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thetriumphantpanda · 10 months

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two for the price of one | joel & tommy miller

Summary | Tommy has always been the loyal and doting boyfriend, the literal man of your dreams. Ready to take things to the next step, you soon find that Tommy is unable to have children. A family is all you've ever wanted, and neither of you are going to let this get in your way. Enter Joel, dark and mysterious and willing to do anything for his little brother, including fucking his girlfriend to get her pregnant. That's what brothers are for, right?

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader & Tommy Miller x F!Reader

Warnings | Like, I literally don't even know anymore. Tommy is a cuck in this one, Joel is a dirty talking menace. Pre/No Outbreak AU. Talk of infertility, mention of consuming alcohol, Breeding kink, girlfriend sharing, masterbation (M), oral (F receiving), unprotected PiV sex, creampie, plenty of dirty talk, praise kink.

Word Count | 4.2k

Authors Note | I just want to shoutout the anon who left this request in my inbox. It rotted my brain and now we're here. Special shoutout to the JFC - specifically @sinsofsummers for telling me I could do this and @dinsdjrn and @cavillscurls for their help with some of the dialogue here. This is just filth. Pure unadulterated filth. Enjoy.

That damn piece of paper was haunting you, even from its place deep in the drawer where Tommy had stuffed it when he’d opened it and showed you. Its words telling you what you’d both anticipated but had wanted to prove wrong. Tommy. Infertile. Dashing those hopes of your beautiful babies with thick curls and big, beautiful eyes. He’d taken it hard, like it was an abject failure of his own manhood – the one thing he should be able to do beyond anything else, give you the child you so desperately yearned for, he couldn’t.

There was a week of tension, where you treaded on eggshells, trying not to bring it up, despite desperately wanting to discuss other options. Then came his acceptance of his emotions, late at night, curled up behind you in bed. It started with a light sniffle, then you could feel his tears drip onto the skin of your shoulders, then the whole-body sobs as he held you, told you he was sorry. You’d turned in his arms, wrapped your arms around his neck and held him, whispering softly that it was okay, that it didn’t matter, that you had options. You could still have a family, just perhaps not in the traditional sense.

Then came the weeks of appointments. You’d met with an adoption agency first. They’d talked you through the application process, what they expected of you, talked about the type of family you want, but Tommy had been adamantly against it for your first child. He wanted something borne of your blood, of your flesh, even if it wasn’t his that joined it.

Then there were the medical appointments talk of special drugs Tommy could take, or the possibility of IVF, even a sperm donor. It had started to look like these could be an option until the cost was placed in front of you. There was no way either of you could afford it, not even together, not even if you sold the house for something smaller. You’d reached the end of the line with no answers and the thought that you’d have to resign yourself to being childless.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? You could take all the love you’d wrapped up for a baby and put it somewhere else. You could love your niece Sarah harder, give some of it to the children you worked with each day at the school – you didn’t need to be a mother to feel complete. The longer you sat with it though, the more you felt something missing. The end of the line was frustrating and lonely. That was, until Tommy came up with an alternative.

It's late on a Thursday evening. You’ve just cleaned up from dinner and you’re lounging on the couch with Tommy’s arms wrapped around you, your head resting on one of his shoulders.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” He muses above, settling his lips on the crown of your head.

“Always.” You squeeze the hand you’re resting on his thigh.

“What if we ask Joel?”

“To fix the back steps?” You ask, referencing the rotting steps that had needed sorting since winter cleared, “Can’t you just do it yourself?”

“No sugar,” He clears his throat, “Y’know what, forget I said anythin’.”

“Tommy,” You grumble, pushing yourself off his shoulder, you rest an arm across the back of the couch where he’s sitting, “You can’t just say that and not elaborate.”

He’s nervous. You can see the bouncing of his knee, something you’d clocked was a nervous habit on your first date. He’s also running a hand along the back of his neck, exactly what he always does when he’s got to say something difficult. You can also see the start of prickles of sweat on his brow. He’s not just nervous, he’s uncomfortable. You rest a hand on his shoulder, the way he’d taught you to do it when you’d first met, when he was still grappling with the anxiety and PTSD of being a veteran.

“I’m worried I’m gonna scare you, sugar.”

You run a hand through his thick head of curls, “Tommy, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise to just hear me out before freaking out, okay?”

You stick your pinky up, motioning for him to join his own with yours, “Pinky swear, Tommy Miller.”

“What if we ask Joel, you know….” He trails off, mouth opening and closing like a fish as he searches for the words he needs, “Fuck, I don’t even know how to say it.”

“Just take a deep breath and say it all at once.”

He takes a deep breath in like you instructed, blowing it out through his mouth, “What if we ask Joel to help with gettin’ you pregnant?”

It takes a minute for what he’s said to properly sink it. Your first train of thought, stupidly, is that Joel is a carpenter, not a doctor, so there’s no possible way he’s qualified to help with this. Then it washes over you all at once. Heat prickling at your cheeks, breath hitching in your throat, you think you might be sick.

“You want me to sleep with your brother?” You ask, tone coming out far more accusatory than intended, you soften your expression and squeeze his shoulder when you notice how hurt he looks.

“Well, it certainly ain’t my first option, or the second and third for that matter,” He sighs, “Look, it was stupid, forget I asked.”

He moves to get up from the couch, but you’re dragging him back down, fingers gripped around his wrist, “It’s not stupid Tommy, but you gotta help me understand how this is an option.”

He’s looking at you now, big brown eyes with a hint of sadness staring into your own. He cups your cheek in one of his palms, “I know how bad you want this sugar, how much you want a family,” He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “And I’m sorry I can’t give that to you, sorry we can’t afford the fancy drugs that would make this easier,” He sighs deeply, “The only option we have is to do somethin’ like this, and if I’m gonna let another man touch you, I want it to be someone I trust, and he’s the only person I would ever trust with this,” He rubs a hand over his face, “Least I know it might have a chance of lookin’ somethin’ like me too, instead of goddamn Steven from Ohio or whoever they’d use.”

You feel your gut twist when he speaks. This absolutely batshit crazy idea is actually coming from an incredible place of care. He knows you want a child; lord knows you were trying your hardest together to make it happen before that damn piece of paper had to go and ruin it all.

“You wouldn’t find it weird, knowing I’d had sex with your brother?”

“Well, it doesn’t mean anythin’, does it baby?”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” You shrug, it was just a means to an end, “You think he’ll agree?”

“I don’t know baby,” He answers honestly, wrapping you back into his arms, “I’ll take him out this weekend, ask him and see what he thinks.”

There’s still something here that doesn’t sit right with you. Sure, it makes sense, and of all the people who you could choose for yourself you’d probably have settled on Joel too. Stoic and sensible Joel, brooding and grumpy Joel. He’d always been kind, had welcomed you into the family with open arms, praised you multiple times for finally keeping his brother on the straight and narrow. He was a good man, loved his little girl with all his heart, would never hurt a hair on your head, but you were still uncomfortable.

“If he does agree,” You shift nervously on the couch, “I want you to be there.”

“You don’t trust him?”

“No, of course I trust him Tommy,” You sigh, “I’d just feel more comfortable if you were there.”

“Anythin’ for you, sugar.”

It’s early on Sunday morning when Tommy rolls into bed, 3am to be exact, smelling of whiskey to tell you he’s finally asked Joel to help you. He slinks onto bed and wraps his arms around your waist, kissing over your neck and down your shoulder to wake you. When you finally grumble and admit you’re very muchawake now, with his hand gripping your hip, he’s speaking in a hushed whisper.

“He said yes.”

“He take much convincing?” You ask, shuffling around in his arms so you’re facing him, his face gripped in your palms.

“He was wary, thought I’d lost my mind for a good few minutes,” Tommy leans forward, pressing a kiss to your lips, “Told him it was my idea and you’d thought the same, but he came around, think he knows how much we both want this.”

A part of you had thought he’d say no. That there was no way that stoic, sensible Joel would ever consider sleeping with his brother’s girlfriend in order to knock her up, but he’d proved himself a man of many surprises before. As Tommy presses kisses to your lips and settles you both to sleep, there’s the bubbling of nerves in your belly, of doubt. Are you really doing the right thing? Is this going to make the dynamic between the three of you awkward as hell? Sure, you’re all grown adults and this is just a means to an end, but there’s still the unknown of what comes after.

Tommy goes out that morning and brings back a bag, filled with ovulation tests and, perhaps a little prematurely, pregnancy tests. You do one of the ovulation tests that morning and as expected, the screen shows a sad face, gratefully showing you that you still have time to prepare for what you’re going to do. Three days later when you do the test again, there’s a grinning happy face, almost taunting you that it’s time to face the music. You show the test to Tommy, who places a palm on the back of your head, bringing your forehead to his lips. He murmurs that he’ll tell Joel, and that’s how not even twenty-four hours later, it really is time to bite the bullet.

It's late, Joel having insisted that he needed to make sure Sarah was settled and asleep before he came over. You’re sitting at the foot of the bed, legs dangling aimlessly whilst you wait. You really had no idea how this was going to play out, so you’d dressed yourself in a simple cotton nightdress, silk robe tied around your middle for extra coverage. There was an empty whiskey tumbler on the nightstand. You’d had three, maybe four? Enough to take the edge off, but not too much that you weren’t aware of what was happening.

You hear the doorbell chime and then Tommy’s heavy footsteps downstairs as he opens the door. You can hear his voice and Joel’s mingling together, but you can’t decipher what either are saying. You probably don’t want too either. What could two brothers’ possibly have to say to each other when one is getting ready to sleep with the others girlfriend? You listen to them talk for a bit before you can hear two sets of feet ascending the stairs. You stand from the bed, wrapping your arms around yourself for another layer of comfort when there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in!” You call, bouncing nervously from foot to foot.

The door swings open and Joel is stood there, dressed in his usual attire, dark wash jeans and a black t-shirt, work boots obviously discarded downstairs, Tommy knew you hated people tracking dirt into the house. He takes a moment to take the sight of you in and you think you must look ridiculous, silk robe making way to bare legs – it had seemed like such a good idea at the time, he could just push the material up, do what he needed to do and be gone, but now you wonder if it looks like you’re trying to seduce him.

“Hey sweetheart,” Joel’s voice is soft and when you look into his eyes, they are too, and it does put you at some ease, “C’mere.” He’s motioning for you to step closer, opening his arms so he can pull you into a hug.

You’ve hugged Joel hundreds of times before this, in much the same way. One of his arms wrapped around your shoulders, the other squeezing into the middle of your back. It’s usually friendly, meaningless really, but when you take in the press of his broad frame, you can’t help but realise you’re going to know him far more intimately than you’d ever imagined by the end of the night.

He releases you and you’re semi-aware that Tommy has slunk into the room behind his brother, he’s leaning against the wall as he watches Joel take hold of your hand, guiding you back to sit on the bed where you had been before. God, you think, he’s not wasting his time, he wants this to be over just as much as I do. You look up at his broad frame towering over you, if this was anyone else, you’d be intimidated, but he’s still got that soft look to his brown eyes. He shocks you next, cupping your jaw in his hand and running his calloused thumb over your bottom lip.

He turns his head to Tommy, “You wanna tell me what she likes?”

Oh. Oh. You’d expected something much more clinical than this. You’d never imagined he’d work to make sure you enjoyed it. You also turn your head in Tommy’s direction. He’s still leant against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other with his arms crossed.

“She likes getting her pussy eaten, don’t you baby?”

Joel is gently coaxing your face back to look at him, staring directly into your eyes, “That right, darlin’?” You look up at him as you nod, mouth open a little in shock, “Wanna make sure you enjoy this,” He’s saying, “Gonna take real good care of you.”

Then, he’s dropping to his knees at the front of the bed, shifting so your legs are draped over his wide shoulders. Whilst Joel is focused on kissing trails from your knee, slowly up the expanse of your thigh, you look to Tommy, who has moved from the wall to sit in the small chair in the corner of the room that you would usually use to read in. He gives you a nod and a small smile, silently telling you to enjoy yourself. Your turn your attention back to Joel between your legs, who has slowly hitched up the cotton of your nightdress to pool at your hips, exposing your pussy to him.

You can feel his hot breath skittering across your skin and there’s an anticipation building that you hadn’t expected. You’re moving your hips, almost subconsciously, to chase the relief you know his mouth was about to bring. Joel has his big palms on your hips then, holding you steady before he’s licking up the length of your pussy, tongue dipping ever so gently between your folds to find your clit. You let out a shaky breath that you hadn’t noticed you were even holding in, then Joel is moving again, tongue dipping into the entrance of your pussy, licking all the way up again before he’s laser focused on your clit.

Your hands instinctively rake through his hair, gripping the strands between your fingers to keep him in place as he uses the tip of his tongue to run tight, wet circles to your bundle of nerves. You’re propping yourself up with a hand on the mattress behind you whilst the other keeps its place locking in Joel’s hair. Then, you’re actually grinding your pussy into his mouth, desperate for more but scared to ask for it.

“It’s okay baby,” You hear Tommy speak from his place on the chair, “We want you to feel good, don’t be shy about askin’.”

You look down between your thighs and see Joel looking up at you, mouth still latched to your aching pussy, “Joel,” You groan, “Fingers, please.”

“So polite, darlin’.” He murmurs against your skin before he’s doing as you asked.

He’s still showering your clit with attention, the sounds of his literal slurping doing nothing to stop the flush of arousal you’re feeling right now, as he pushes two of his thick fingers inside your slick cunt. You don’t know what you’d expected of Joel in this kind of scenario, perpetually single Joel, who never really seemed interested in anyone. You knew now, as he was curling those fingers inside of you, pressing into the spot that had you crying out and gripping his hair tighter than ever, that it wasn’t because of his abilities that he was single.

“Fuck, holy shit Joel, I think….”

“You gonna come for him baby?” You hear Tommy ask from the corner of the room.

“I think…” You let out a sharp cry, “Don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t. He keeps thrusting his fingers into your pussy, tongue still running those tight circles over your bud, but now he latches his lips around it and sucks, actually sucks at your clit. You’re lost. Your elbow buckles and you collapse on your back onto the bed, crying out a string of expletives as Joel works you through your high. Pleasure has burst across your skin, finding every single possible nerve ending and setting you on fire, your thighs are gripping his face as you ride out the last of the shuddering aftershocks on his fingers, pussy walls fluttering around them as you try and catch your breath.

You can feel Joel recoiling from between your thighs. You can hear the sound of him undoing his belt and then it clattering to the floor. You use your weak arms to push yourself up the length of the bed, head settling in the pile of pillows at the top. You turn your face to Tommy and gasp, hunger igniting in your belly at what you see. Somewhere in the middle of Joel shattering your world between your thighs, Tommy has shucked his jeans and underwear down just enough to free his cock. He’s using his fist to work himself in slow strokes at the sight of you.

You can feel Joel’s body clambering onto the mattress with you, settling between your thighs with his wide hips spreading your legs an obscene amount to accommodate him. He’s taking hold of your jaw in his hand, dragging your attention back to his face, “You’re fuckin’ me tonight pretty girl,” He growls, “Eyes on me.”

It isn’t a torturous job by any means. Joel is weathered, his skin holding the early sign of wrinkles at his eyes, beard starting to grey, but you can’t deny that he’s handsome. Especially when he’s looking at you with eyes that are begging to devour you. He sits back on his knees, taking hold of the belt that is keeping your robe shut across your body to undo the loose knot you’d tied in it. He’s dragging you up by a wrist just far enough to shuck the material from your shoulders, laying you back down to play with the straps of your nightdress.

“Can I undress you properly, darlin’?” He asks.

You gulp. Finally noticing that he’s stripped to just his boxers, outline of his incredibly hard cock visible when you let your eyes drag down that far.

“Go on baby,” Tommy encourages from across the room, “Let him see how beautiful you are.”

Your eyes are back to holding court with Joel’s own and you nod. He’s pulling you up by the wrist again, sitting you up so he can drag that final bit of material off your body. You lie back down and watch as his eyes drag over every single inch of your skin.

“Pretty as a fuckin’ picture.”

He’s got those wide palms dragging down the curves of your sides, holding you in place to just watch you for a second before he’s hooking his thumbs into his underwear and dragging them down his thighs, freeing his cock. He’s fisting himself a few times before he hooks your knees over his arms and slides himself into your waiting cunt.

It’s all you can do to let out a high-pitched moan at the intrusion, but fuck he feels good. You look up at his face, eyes closed and breathing deeply as he stills inside you once he’d buried in you to the hilt.

“So fucking tight, darlin’,” He groans as he pulls himself almost all the way out before starting the long, torturous thrust back inside you, “So fuckin’ perfect, ain’t ya?”

“Fuck Joel,” You throw your head back into the pillow, “Feel so good inside me.”

He’s picking up the pace now, thrusting into you in earnest now. The angle he’s got you folded into means his cock in brushing that fucking spot inside you that is driving you crazy, raising goosebumps and setting you on fire, drawing high-pitched whines from your throat whenever he finds it.

“Touch yourself baby,” You hear Tommy’s throaty request, you don’t dare look at him for fear of the sight of him finishing you off, “Joel’s gonna want you to come on his cock, so show him what a good girl you can be.”

Joel is already circling your wrist with his hand, dragging your fingers to your pussy as he watches where his cock disappears inside you. Your own movements are sloppy but the slick that Joel’s mouth has dragged from you make the movement of circles on your own engorged and sensitive clit easy. It doesn’t take long for your second orgasm to hit you, clenching your pussy around Joel’s hard cock which hasn’t let up for a single second since he started pounding into you.

“She’s so fuckin’ pretty, Tommy,” Joel’s voice is low and husky above you, almost desperately so, “So fuckin’ pretty when she comes like that.”

“Don’t I know it, brother.” You hear his strangled reply.

Joel is all of a sudden flipping you on the bed, your legs straddling his hips, palms planted on his chest to steady yourself.

“Take what you want darlin’,” He’s groaning, “Ride my cock and knock yourself up.”

You do just that, grinding your hips backwards and forwards on his cock with your fingers digging halfmoon shapes into the meat of his chest as you lean forward, bouncing on his cock in earnest.

His palms are gripping the globes of your ass, knees coming up to rest on your bare skin as he starts fucking up into you, meeting your thrusts halfway. The sounds of your skin slapping together is obscene but oh so delicious.

“You like when my brother fucks you like that?” Tommy’s deep voice draws your attention to him, he’s still got his cock in his hand but he’s thrusting up into it and you can tell just by the look on his face that he’s close.

You look him dead in the eyes, breathy moan falling from your lips when you say, “I fucking love it, Tommy.”

It all happens at once. Tommy is moaning and you can see him start to spill across his hand. Then Joel is gripping your hips, stilling your movements as you feel him start to come inside you, filling you up with his cum, your name falling from his mouth with a tangle of expletives built in for good measure.

“Fuckin’ take it, pretty girl.” Joel is growling from beneath you, pushing his cock impossibly deep inside you like he’s begging your pussy to soak it all up, to get it to take.

The room is silent save for the sounds of the three of you trying to catch your breath. You collapse, somewhat unceremoniously off Joel’s body and onto the mattress, placing an arm over your eyes to try and calm yourself down. Why the fuck was that so hot? Is all you can think. You’re only semi-aware of him shifting and gathering his things, only semi-aware of Tommy cleaning his hand off on his jeans to re-dress himself. You’re almost asleep when you feel the press of a kiss to your cheek, opening your eyes to find it was in fact Joel who did it, thumb running soothing circles across the skin of your hip.

“Thank you.” You say meekly, reaching up to cup his face in your palm.

“My pleasure, darlin’,” He smiles down at you, “I hope it helps.”

Then he’s gone, following Tommy out of the bedroom and back down the stairs. You can, once again hear their muted voices, but this time, instead of setting you on edge, it lulls you to sleep. By the time Tommy comes back, climbs into bed and spoons you from behind, you’re almost asleep.

“Did so fuckin’ good for me baby,” He murmurs into your ear, “So fuckin’ proud of you.”

Through the haze of sleep taking over you, you manage to mumble out, “Hope it works.”

He chuckles, his body shaking your own where he has you wrapped in his embrace, “Me too baby, me too.”

Within minutes you’re asleep. So asleep that you don’t feel his hand resting above your womb, silently praying that sooner, rather than later, he’s going to start feeling you swell there. Silently thanking the good lord for giving him such an understanding brother and a girl willing to do anything for him.

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somanyratsinthewalls · 8 months

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Bad Decisions (+18)

Bad Decisions (Sanji x f Reader)

Summary: Your hunger and your impulsivity both get the best of you and you end up in a compromising position. You ask Sanji for help, but it might be even more important to him than it is to you.

Pairing: Sanji x afab!reader

WC: 3500+ oops

TWs: vaginal sex, pet names, oral sex, fingering, crying, begging, virginity loss, it's porn with a brief plot idk man

You were starving. You and the crew had just finished a rough fight on a random island and brought back several chests and bags of treasure back to the ship. For over an hour after your return, you sat on the wooden floor of the deck with Nami going through bags full of gold, silver, and rare jewels.

“Once we find somewhere to turn all this into berries we can buy the CUTEST new outfits!” Nami shouted with her back to you, head buried in a treasure chest.

“Nami your closet can barely close and you still have stuff with the tags on it, what the hell do you need new clothes for?” You quipped back while rummaging through a burlap sack.

“I’m a pirate, I can do whatever I want y/n.”

You rolled your eyes and continued going through the bag. Your hand felt something… fleshy? Like the soft, tender skin of a banana. You grabbed it and pulled it out to see a strange pink, oblong fruit. Your immediate thought was that this was a devil fruit, but it didn’t bear the signature swirled texture.

“Nami... come look at this…”

A door was suddenly flung open from the galley.

“Hello my beautiful girls! I’ve prepared you an aperitif to keep you satiated before dinner is ready! My sweet y/n here-“

Sanji stopped in his tracks after his sudden intrusion.

“Where the hell did you get that? Put it down!” Sanji swiftly placed the tray he was carrying on a barrel and snatched the strange produce out of your hand.

You were confused as to why Sanji suddenly looked so concerned.

“Sanji what the fuck is your problem? I found that fair and square!” You snapped at him, your piracy-addled brain wanting to keep it for yourself since it was clearly of value at this point. He held it behind his back as you approached him.

“Mon amour you don’t understand, this is a very dangerous berry and should not be consumed under any circumstance.” Sanji stepped forward, eyes dark with concern.

“Ok weirdo keep your purple banana, I’m here for the diamonds.” Nami said as she carried several of the bags downstairs on the Sunny to the storeroom, leaving you and Sanji in a stalemate on the deck.

“I’m putting this away.” he said as he walked back into the galley. You followed him quickly, not even letting the door close behind him before threw it open behind you and snipped at him.

“Ok give it up cook, what’s your deal with this thing? Why is it dangerous? It’s not a devil fruit, right?”

“You don’t understand. These are very rare fruits that are native to the South Blue. I’ve only heard tales from patrons at the Baratie of what this can do to you. It’s the worlds most powerful aphrodisiac.” Sanji’s hands were shaking as he placed the fruit on the kitchen island.

You snorted trying to keep your laughter in but it fought its way to the front. “Hahaha oh stop it! Those are old wives tales, Sanji. If it’s not a devil fruit, it’s harmless. You’re afraid of it, why? Afraid that it will make you what? Too horny? Come on, be serious!”

“I’m as serious as a heart attack, love. You have NO idea what this can do to someone. And there’s only one way to reverse the affects.” He met your gaze with his last sentence. You expected him to wink or pull something perverted, but his blue eyes showed nothing but worry. You sighed and backed off, realizing that the fruit probably wasn’t worth any money. You returned to the deck and going through the bags Nami left behind.

—-

After another half hour of treasure picking, you heard the growl of your stomach and was painfully reminded of how hungry you were. You silently cursed the curly-browed chef that dinner was taking so long. You made your way to the galley to see how the cooking process was going.

You walked in to find an empty kitchen. Sanji was probably out having a cigarette. He stopped smoking in the kitchen as much after Robin found a pile of ash in her scrambled eggs one morning. Sanji felt so bad that he cried and groveled for three days.

You remembered where Sanji stashed that fruit in the ice box.

Curiously you lifted the lid of the ice box and grabbed the strange berry. As you rolled it in your hand inspecting it, your stomach panged again. Long term thinking had NEVER been your strong suit, hence why you ended up on a dangerous pirate crew with little experience at sea.

Impulsively, you popped the fruit in your mouth.

And god, fuck, it was the most magical taste you’ve ever experienced. It was like dark chocolate, raspberries, lavender, all the most tender, delicate flavors rolled into one. You audibly groaned as you tongued it around your mouth. You didn’t want the experience to end but you had to swallow. Right as the fruit hit your stomach the door to the deck opened and there was your blonde lovecook. He looked at you, then at the empty fruit stem in your hand.

“Tell me you didn’t…” he stood there, mouth agape.

“So what if I did? I was hungry and you’re dragging ass with dinner. Those stories aren’t even real, I’ll be fine.” You confidently strode towards him trying to move around his tall, slender frame when he grabbed the sides of your arms and forced you to look at him.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW DANGEROUS THIS IS?”

“Get off me!” You were young but you were strong and you shook off his grasp with ease. “I’ll be fine. Stop worrying about me. I can handle myself.” And you ducked past him and walked out onto the deck and back down to your room. You would be fine, right? He had no evidence other than stories from dirty old men on the Baratie. You spent awhile in your room reading before the crew was called for dinner. It was a beautiful spread. Luffy was dominating the serving platters while you sat next to Robin and joked about something gross Franky had done earlier in the day with a large bottle of cola.

Halfway through the meal you started to feel warm. You ignored it, blaming the summer heat. But the warmth grew, spread to your cheeks and deep in your tummy. Your skin felt like you had a fresh sunburn. Robin rubbed your arm accidentally while laughing at a joke and you jolted forward, your skin being so sensitive and hot.

“Are you okay y/n?” Robin asked looking into your eyes, visibly concerned.

“I’m fine I think… I think I’m just tired… maybe I need to go to bed.”

You looked across the wooden dining table and Sanji was staring directly at you. He had clearly been watching you the whole time, eyes filled with concern for your physical state. You ignored his glare and excused yourself back down to your room. This feeling was unlike anything you’ve ever felt in your life. It was like static electricity going straight through your veins. You went straight to the bathroom and splashed cold water on your face repeatedly. After a big sigh you buried your face in a towel. Looking up into the mirror you notice something. Your nipples were completely erect.

You couldn’t possibly believe that this fruit did what Sanji said it did… but you realized you were growing increasingly wet between your legs.

“You’re kidding…” You audibly curse to yourself.

You went back to your bed and grabbed your book to start reading and calm yourself down. You stared at the pages, your brain unable to focus on any of the words, only able to focus on the electric feeling in your body.

Your body was no longer just hot, it was BURNING. You were wearing a large grey t shirt and light pink panties. You look down and see that you’ve soaked them completely through. Frustrated, you throw your book on the table and lay fully on your back. You want to resolve the issue quickly without problems so you reach your hand down into your underwear and start to circle your clit with your right hand.

It wasn’t enough.

You insert your pointer and middle finger inside of yourself the way you always do when you need to release. It wasn’t working. You were hurting. It simply wasn’t enough. You kept trying. You were panting and sweating, your hair plastered to your forehead and grunting in frustration as you struggled to reach a peak. Your skin was so sensitive but you simply couldn’t get there. You were starting to feel sick…. The hot, sweating feeling becoming too much for your brain. An idea suddenly hit you-

“There’s only one way to reverse the effects.” Sanji. He knew. He knew how to fix this. You sprinted out of bed, still in a t shirt and panties and grabbed your baby den den mushi and called the Sunny’s landline, knowing it was in the kitchen and Sanji would be there washing dishes. It rang. You waited. Sweat beads dripping down your forehead, pain radiating through your lower half, you kept waiting for a response.

“Y/n? Mon amour? Are you okay?” Sanji’s concerned, deep voice came through on the line.

“No I’m not. You were right I was wrong, okay? I need you to get down here now.”

He breathed heavily on the other end, having an idea as to what you were going through. He didn't respond.

“Sanji. You told me you knew how to fix this. Please…” your voice was trembling and broken.

As soon as he heard the desperation in your begging he knew it was serious. He had an obligation to his crew mate.

“I’ll be there right now.” And he hung up.

Barely a few moments later you heard rapid knocks on your door and the knob turning. Sanji was fully unprepared for the sight he saw when he entered your room.

There you were. Laid out on your bed, but thighs clamped together so desperately trying to get any sort of friction on your aching clit. Sweat from your neck had stained your large, old t shirt. Your breathing was so heavy he could see your breasts rise and fall tiredly, clearly not wearing a bra.

“I told you not to do this…”

“Okay! I know! I get it! I should have listened to you! But right now Sanji I-… I need your help.. please…”

He had imagined it so many times… you spread out in bed, begging and pleading for him. Was he dreaming again? He fisted his cock late at night so often thinking about this exact situation. But as a gentleman he was hesitant. Would you be begging for him like this had you not ingested that fruit? Would it be right to touch you like this? You weren’t drunk, you weren’t on drugs, but is it right? His brain was going a thousand nautical miles a minute until you spoke again.

“Sanji…”

You looked at him as you sat up on your elbows. You let your legs fall apart as far as they would go so he could see the massive soaked spot on your panties.

“Sanji please… it hurts so much…”

Hurts. You said it hurts. You were in pain. He could see the tears threatening to fall from your lashes. He has never seen you like this a day in his life, even 2 years ago when you first joined the crew and you were new to piracy. He had seen you take blade slices and Chopper sewed them up with no anesthesia and you barely winced. He could barely imagine the pain and frustration that was causing you to have this reaction now. He vowed to never leave a woman in distress, and you certainly were.

“Let me go get Chopper, he will know what to do.”

“NO!” You shout at him. “Don’t you dare tell anyone on this ship what happened. You said you could help me and I need it.” You were pleading with him. He saw the look in your eyes. So much desperation. So much lust. How could he leave you writhing in all this pain?

Screw it.

Sanji quickly slips off his shirt jacket and it falls to the floor. He strides toward you loosening his tie. He sits down next to you on the bed. He was more than a little hesitant but he couldn’t resist anymore.

“I need you to understand... that if I help you with this… we won’t ever be the same… I need you to tell me that’s okay.”

You grabbed his hand. It was so soft and delicate in yours. Slender fingers slotting in between yours. You looked up into his all-blue eyes, you could see the worry. He looked at you like a porcelain doll that he might break if he takes it off the shelf to play with. But you could tell deep down, he wanted to play.

“It’s okay. I need your help Sanji. Please help me.” You breathed out, the feelings getting so much more intense. Your pussy was clenching around nothing after just feeling his hand in yours… your pulse was so high… You needed release soon or you thought you might have a heart attack.

“Fine. But if anything feels wrong you’ll tell me to stop, love, right?”

You nodded your head aggressively and lifted your torso off the bed and removed your shirt. Tossing it aside you then shimmied off your panties, leaving your body fully naked on the bed for him. He had never seen something so beautiful… pert, full breasts heaving on your chest, a sheen of sweat covering your skin. A puddle was forming on the sheets between your legs…. He knew this wasn’t normal. The wetness your pussy was experiencing was nothing human at this point, dripping far more than was normal for any biological person. It was clearly aching.

Sanji got to his knees at the base of the bed, fully taking his tie off now and undoing several buttons of his dress shirt. “Ok love, I’m going to fix all of this.”

He grabbed the backs of your knees and yanked your sweat covered body to the edge of the bed so that he was face to face with your hot, dripping sex.

“Merde…”

Sanji knew this was his dream. Sure the All Blue was number one but this was the best thing he’s ever seen or smelled. He leans forward towards your bare pussy to deeply inhale your scent. You cover your face, embarrassed at his lewd, perverted actions.

“Sanji please…” you were whining and writhing, waiting for him to touch you.

He firmly grabs your hip with one hand and holds you down while he spreads your lips with two fingers from the other hand. No longer able to resist your sopping cunt, he dives in immediately and latches onto your throbbing clit.

You scream out underneath his touch, your skin so painfully sensitive that it feels a thousand times more pleasurable with his mouth. You moan loudly as he laps and sucks at your most sensitive area. With the affects of the fruit and the pleasure Sanji is giving to you, your brain short circuits. You instinctively fist his blonde locks and pull him deeper into your cunt. You needed release and you needed it now.

Sanji was in Heaven, your sweet sounds and the taste of your rapturous pussy he could barely think straight. Things were going beyond well… especially for someone who has never done this before. Sanji has never touched a woman, let alone had sex. This was a show. He snuck some of Robin’s erotic novels months ago and tried to understand how to please a woman should the opportunity arise. Sanji’s hands were shaking on your thighs, trying to make sure everything was perfect for you. He remembered reading that having fingers inside a woman feels good when done right. He inserts two fingers and crooks them upwards, pulling slightly while his lips were wrapped around your clit and you shouted out in pleasure.

“Sanji! Oh my god! That’s it, please! It’s perfect, right there! Don’t you dare stop, please!”

Hearing you simultaneously praise and beg him made his head swim. He never thought he’d be able to pleasure a woman like this. He ruts his crotch into the side of the bed as he slurps down all of your sinful juices, trying to suppress his own sexual desires.

You felt the tension and in your belly start to reach its peak and you aggressively grabbed Sanji’s head.

“Im… cumming!” You shrieked as you released all over his face. You laid back and heaved and felt relieved.. but only for a moment…

He pulled off of your cunt, goatee soaked in your release. He greedily licks his lips, smirk forming at the corners.

“My love… it was the best meal I’ve ever eaten in my life… and as someone with a refined palate, I simply can’t say what an honor it’s been.” He tries to compose himself and put his tie back into place as he stands up from the bed. You grab his wrist.

“Sanji… I need more… all of it… please…”

He couldn’t believe that he was hearing. Was this it? He needed you almost as bad as you needed him at this point.

“My darling… do you mean that?” He asks hesitantly

“Of course I do. It still hurts, Sanji. I can’t get rid of this unless I feel all of you inside of me… please…”

Sanji rips off his clothes at lightening speed, stumbling over his trousers in the process. Thick cock slapping his stomach as he pulls down his briefs. He climbs back onto the bed and hovers over you. Remembering the books he read, he grabs an extra pillow and shoves it under your ass, grabbing an experimental squeeze as he does it. You giggle.

“M-my love… I’ve… I’ve never done this before.”

You look up at him, shocked and bewildered. A virgin? Maybe it was because of the mysterious fruit’s effects, but this man had just given you the most earth shattering orgasm you’ve ever had. How can this really be his first time?

“Oh Sanji I’m sorry I just can’t help it, if you don’t want to-“ He cut you off with a sloppy, passionate kiss on your lips. It was messy, it was frantic, it was needy and so, so good. He pulls back panting and says to you,

“I want to. My love, I want to more than you know, please let me help you.”

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding and reached up to cup his face with one hand and pull him into a kiss. With your other hand you reached down and guided his throbbing, virgin cock into yourself.

Sanji groans against your lips, you suck a breath in, finally feeling the fullness your body has been violently craving for what felt like an eternity. He leans back from your kiss, seemingly trying to catch his breath and compose himself. He knew it would be good, but the feeling was far more than he’d ever imagined. Your insides were so warm, so wet and open for him, fitting him inside you so perfectly like the last piece to a puzzle. He was broken out of his trance by a desperate whine from underneath him.

“Sanji… baby please… I need more, fuck me now please?” You bucked your hips upwards into him deeper, trying to fuck yourself on his cock desperately trying to fix the painful ache in your lower half.

He pulled out of you slowly, still hesitant as to what to do, this being the first time he’s ever made love to a woman, let alone someone he felt so passionately about. He leans forward and fully pushes his sensitive cock back inside of you and you let out a high pitched whine. He repeats his actions as he finds a comfortable rhythm.

“Oh Sanji thank you so much, thank you so much, it feels so good baby, just like that…” You punctuated his thrusts with explicit compliments and loud moans. Growing confident, he leans back and places his hands on the back of your thighs and pushes them up to your chest. He speeds up his hips and you feel his thick cock reach the perfect spot at this new angle.

“Sanji! There!” You were screaming at this point. Sanji had half a mind to cover your mouth, knowing every other person on the Sunny could hear you calling out his name in pleasure… but the other half? The thought of everyone knowing that HE was the one giving you such intense pleasure that you can’t help but shriek his name throughout the ship? That was the half that was winning.

You feel like you’re about to explode. It was right there, you could feel it. Tears begin streaming down your face as your love cook destroys your sloppy pussy with vigor.

“My love you’re so close, I can barely pull myself out… Please cum for me? Mon amour, I need to see it again. I need to feel you cum on me, please? You’re so beautiful when you cum, you’re perfect, darling, please?” Sanji was shamelessly begging you to release on his cock. He desperately drilled his hips into you, pushing your further up into a pretzel.

“Yes Sanji I’m right there, fuck baby I’m cumming, SHIT-“ you screamed. The orgasm ripped through your entire body, unlike you’ve ever felt. It was an almost painful, intense pleasure. Sanji continued to plow into you, so incredibly close to his own peak, trying to talk you through it but your ears were ringing.

“So perfect baby, such a perfect, gorgeous pussy. My perfect little pussy, so good for me…I love you so mu- oh my darling, I’m going to cum, please let me fill you!”

Your brain short circuited, so broken by your orgasm, body almost numb. “Yes of course, I want all of it Sanji please! I want your cum inside of me.”

And with that, he did. He moaned your name loudly as he slumps forward meeting your forehead with his. He lets your legs fall comfortably, but stays on top and inside of you. Nothing but heavy breathing and the sound of waves hitting the side of the ship could be heard. After a few minutes he pulls back and he looks into your eyes, seeing the relief, that you’re finally rid of your pain, he smiles. You smile back. You both start laughing.

“Sanji, thank you.” You finally breath out after catching the giggles, not even believing what just happened.

“It truly was my pleasure, darling. Just… just promise me you won’t do anything that stupid again?”

“After how incredible that was? I can make absolutely no promises.” You laugh. “Hey remember when you said you loved me?”

Sanji buried his face in your neck with a groan, clearly embarrassed and hiding his shame. It wasn’t a lie, he just knew you didn’t feel the same way. He didn’t know what to say, he wanted to throw himself into the ocean outside the window just to get away from confronting this. He pulled out of the crook of your neck to look at your face.

“Y/n I-“

“Shhh…” you press your finger to his kiss-bitten lips. “Stay here tonight. We can talk tomorrow.” You assure him while stroking his cheek. Sanji sighs in relief, kissing you gently and laying his head on the pillow next to yours. With nothing left to say you both drift off to sleep, limbs tangled together on your mattress. You can talk about this in the morning.

#one piece smut #one piece #one piece netflix #one piece live action #one piece fanfiction #one piece fandom #one piece fanart #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #black leg sanji #sanji #one piece sanji #sanji vinsmoke #sanji smut #one piece anime #one piece manga

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dollfaceksj · 7 months

Text

the pink pill | myg version (m) — “no one else”

➥ banner by @jkndigo.

➥ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: In each of these universes, you find yourself consuming what is known as the pink pill. This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ porn with plot ⋆ exes

➥ CATEGORY: one-shot [part of the pink pill series]

➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, angst, exes but also idiots, degradation kink, unprotected sex (dont be like them), rough sex but also love-making??, did i mention a bit of angst, multiple positions guys yoongi is catching up for missing u all those times likeee, spankingggg, making out w tongue, overstimulation, claiming/possessiveness, multiple orgasms for reader, extremelyhorny!reader, cocky exboyfriend!yoongi…. yeah., hes a sick son of a bitch but thats why we like him besides he’s pretty tame in this i have worse yoongi’s up my sleeve this is nothin, neither of you have moved on, mutual pining but mutual STUBBORNNESSSSS for fucks sake, filthy words, creampie, oral sex (f. rec), embarrassingly quick climaxes likeee, minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 9.8k

a/n: and at last, yoongi’s ver of the pink pill is finally out!!! thank you for loving jk’s version! i hope you enjoy yoongi’s. beware of a bit of angst and complicated feelings<33

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

Your trembling thumb hovers over the blue arrow next to your unsent message, eyes scanning over the message over and over again. Your heart might implode in your chest the moment you hit send, which is why you’ve been staring at the message that would cause more cons than pros for the past 5 minutes.

Well, would it, though? It’s just a favor. You need a favor.

It’s like your brain is talking directly to your heart. Your brain is telling you how bad of an idea this is whilst your heart is just rolling its non-existent eyes at the nagging, as if your heart isn’t about to slide up your airways into your esophagus, travel straight up your burning throat and launch out of your mouth. You need to calm down.

The aggravating lump in your throat doesn’t let up.

And that’s when the pad of your thumb impulsively hits the damn blue arrow that’s been mockingly staring at you for the past few minutes.

[11:12PM]

from: You

to: Ignore

can you come over

Once the small letters that say ‘delivered’ pop up under your blue message, you internally scream into the void. Your eyes stay glued to your phone, the back of your phone is becoming slimy in your grasp due to the sweat your palms are rapidly producing.

You barely blink as you stare at the screen, your lips twitching as you wait and attempt to ignore the anxiety bubbling in your chest.

Your gaze slowly shifts upwards on the conversation, rereading old messages. The last you heard from him was 4 months ago. The two of you broke up around 9 months ago but still slept together for a good 2-3 months after.

The last message between you two from 4 months ago was you asking him when he could come pick up the rest of his shit. He came, picked up his shit and that’s when you last saw him. You barely exchanged any words. You had anticipated having sex one last time but he just wordlessly collected his stuff and left.

So, it’s understandable why you’d be so worried about asking him to come over and… well, ask him if he can fuck the shit out of you.

Your heart plummets into the pit of the earth when you notice the ‘delivered’ has turned into ‘read 11:13PM’.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

He’s not responding.

Why is he not responding?

One minute passes. Two minutes pass. Three minutes. Four.

You’ve been staring at your phone the entire time and not once did the bubble that indicates he’s typing pop up.

What if he doesn’t even want to talk to you?

Fuck.

What the fuck were you even thinking?

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

After cleaning up the coffee table that was covered in snacks and empty cans that you used to take your mind off the excruciating arousal pooling in your core, you start heading into your once-shared bedroom with your head held down. It’s been 12 minutes since you sent that message and you haven’t gotten a response.

You’re a damn loser.

You plan to start slipping out of your plain shirt and shorts, cringing when you realize you’ve completely soaked through your cotton shorts. How fucking embarrassing. What the hell is in that pill?

Right as your fingers tuck under the hem of your shorts to pull them down your legs, you hear a rhythmic knock on your front door.

What? Who could…

Wait.

It possibly couldn’t be.

The lump returns to your throat at lightning speed as you start heading down your corridor, sluggishly dragging your feet across the floor.

You press your hand flat against the door in an attempt to gather your thoughts and collect your breath before you slowly start opening up, his familiar feline eyes staring at you with an agitated look pooling in them.

“What do you want?” He doesn’t even have the decency to greet you, he just stands there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants.

You quietly swallow as you cross your arms over your chest, stepping to the side to wordlessly invite him in. When he gives you a raised eyebrow in confusion, you say, “I don’t need my neighbors hearing my business.”

The exasperated sigh he lets out slightly stings but he walks in nonetheless. You close the door behind him but he’s showing no intentions or moves to take his shoes off. He just stands in front of the door, annoyance draped over his features.

You silently stare up at him, hoping he doesn’t notice your strange demeanor.

“So? Are you gonna tell me what you want or are you just gonna stare at me and continue to waste my time?” His words are blunt and brutal—the bitterness that he still holds in his heart for you hasn’t left him, it seems.

You finally find the courage to speak up and quietly say, “I need a favor, Yoongi.”

He blankly stares at you for a few moments. Humorlessly laughs at your request. Drops his head. Shakes it from side to side in disbelief.

You can’t help but glare at his reaction, fighting the urge to roll your eyes and spew insulting words at him. This is kind of selfish of you.

“Why would I do you a favor?” he asks once he’s stopped laughing, staring you down with hooded eyelids and no traces of mock amusement left on his face.

“I’ll owe you,” you say, failing to hide the clear annoyance in your tone. You want to strangle him.

“You already owe me.” His response is almost immediate, leaving you speechless for a few seconds as you stare up at him with a frown etched onto your brows.

“Excuse me? What the fuck do I owe you?”

He tilts his head to the side with an irritated look on his face before he says, “I don’t know, you wasted 3 years of my fucking life?”

You exaggeratedly roll your eyes at his words, shaking your head in exasperation. “I could quite literally say the same to you.”

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, his intense stare down never letting up.

He decides to ignore your remark and repeats, “What do you want, Y/N?”

You swallow again, looking to the side to avoid his penetrating gaze as you think about how the fuck you’re going to ask him what you want to ask him.

How do you even begin to ask?

Hey, you haven’t heard from me in months but could you fuck me real quick?

“What? Do you need money?” he asks in a neutral tone, although you can sense the concern tinged in his words.

“No,” you mumble, the collar of your shirt is starting to feel like it’s closing in around the perimeter of your neck with the goal of suffocating you.

He continues, “Then what? An alibi?”

You throw your head back in exasperation as you groan, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

It’s quiet for a moment and it makes you look at him. You notice he’s staring straight at you like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on and what you aren’t telling him.

“Need some lovin’?” he asks with a certain humorous tone, the joke causing you to glance up at him through your lashes with big eyes.

It seems like only then that he takes notice of your swollen lips, your dilated pupils, the thin layer of sweat on your forehead and the quickened breathing with the way his eyes scan your entire face and the frown on his brows slowly disappearing when the realization dawns on him.

He narrows his eyes at you and his hands leave his pockets, swiftly moving to cross over his chest as his lips twitch, something you can only describe as him trying to stifle a smirk. “You actually asked me to come over so I could come fuck you?”

Your mind travels at incomprehensible speed to come up with an answer, leaving you scrambled and almost stuttering. You blurt out, “It’s your fault.”

This makes his brows pinch together in utter confusion. “How the hell is it my fault?”

A deep sigh pushes past your lips as you drop your arms from your chest, hands resting on your hips as you look at the floor in shame. “I was cleaning shit up and I came across that dumb pink pill you bought that you wanted me to try but never got the chance to,” you explain, peeking up at him through your lashes momentarily before averting your gaze again.

“Pill? What pink pill?” he repeats, the frown on his face deepening further as the word leaves his mouth.

“Yes, that stupid pink pussycat pill, Yoongi. We bought it as a joke to try on our anniversary but then we had that stupid fight.” You try to get him to recall the events of a year ago, the quick wince on his face at the mention of your anniversary fight doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Anyway, I didn’t want it to go to waste and I was wondering what it might feel like or if it even works. So, I took it earlier today, for shits and giggles.”

He slowly nods to your words as the memories come back to him, seemingly remembering how excited he was for you to take that pill. “So, I reckon the pill is doing what it said it would?”

You merely grunt in response.

He’s silent for a few seconds before quietly chuckling, shaking his head. His chuckle is so deep and sultry, it shoots a tingle right down your soaked panties.

You huff, “What’s so amusing, you dickhead?”

He glances at you through his brows for a moment before averting his gaze, his eyes roaming his surroundings as he looks around your once-shared home. “I’m just flattered, is all.”

“Flattered?” you repeat, a disapproving frown on your features. He’s turning this entire thing into a compliment for himself.

You really can’t fucking stand him.

“You could’ve flaunted that pretty face out at some bar and gotten someone to fuck you without needing to offer any favors,” he explains, giving you a glimpse of his thought process, those words making your body heat up all over again.

Damn him.

You know Yoongi has always found you insanely attractive but him so nonchalantly reminding you has set your insides aflame.

“You know I don’t do that stuff,” you mumble with a shake to your head.

His bitter, humorless chuckle booms in your ears. Why does it sound like he’s literally inside your head? “That’s exactly how we met, you dirty liar.” He reminds you of how his hips were slamming into yours an hour after you met him and no rebuttal comes to your mind.

You silently stare at him, bringing your hand up to wipe some of the sweat off your hairline with the back of your index finger.

“Yeah, you know what? I don’t know why I even texted you. You can leave,” you say, a surge of anger coursing through your veins as you reach for the door handle but Yoongi is quicker than you.

His hand quickly reaches for yours, fingers wrapping tightly around your wrist. “I can tell you why you did,” he quips, cockily.

You glare up at him but make no effort to remove his hand from your skin, the single touch of his skin against yours sends lava down all your veins and every single one of your nerve-endings. Fuck, you wish you could pounce him right fucking now. You finally gather your thoughts and say, “Oh, please, do enlighten me.”

“You asked me here because you don’t want all that arousal to go to waste on someone that doesn’t know your body like I do.” He starts closing the gap between you two, face closing in on yours. “They won’t do the things you like.”

Your throat tightens at his proximity and his words, your lungs seconds away from imploding in between your ribcage.

“And you’re too shy to tell them because you know you like filthy things.” He moves his other hand up to trace the shell of your ear with the tip of his index finger, his eyes glued to how his finger glides down your skin.

If he noticed his touch instantly awoke the goosebumps on your skin, he doesn’t comment on it and continues to play with your ear, fingers coming down to rub your earlobe in between the pads of his thumb and index finger.

“No one knows your body like I do, no one else.” He drops his hand from your ear to trace the collar of your shirt, the tip of his finger occasionally grazing your neck. “No one knows how filthy you are. How needy you are. How you like to be touched and kissed. That’s how I know,” he concludes.

He adds, “You clearly haven’t moved on.”

He was doing so well, too.

Haven’t moved on? Son of a bitch.

“Yeah, well, what about you?” you blurt out. You watch as his thick eyebrows scrunch together in smug mockery.

“What about me? Don’t turn this on me, sweetheart. You’re the one asking me to come fuck you.” He starts to take off his shoes, kicking them aside like he used to do.

Cocky asshole.

“You showed up 10 minutes after a simple ‘come over’ text, no questions asked.” You remind him of tonight’s events and his face slowly turns into a scowl, his usual quick witty comebacks suddenly nonexistent.

“So what?” he mumbles, not in the mood to fight you for this any longer because he knows he’ll lose.

“Just admit you want this as bad as I do instead of being smart about it,” you say, rolling your eyes as you take a step back to create some more distance between you two. You hadn’t realized he’d gotten that close.

He shrugs his shoulders with an air of nonchalance, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “I wouldn’t say as bad as you.”

Right, because you took that pill and your arousal is off the charts.

He must think he’s sooooooo funny.

“You’re a lia–”

Before you can even finish speaking, he takes a step closer and it inevitably traps you in between his body and the wall behind you. He arrogantly adds, “Want me to push my fingers into your panties and check?”

Fuck.

He shouldn’t still have the ability to knock the oxygen right out of your lungs with just silly words. He shouldn’t.

You stare up at him with a furrow in your brows, eyes wide and lips almost quivering, simply at the thought of him touching you. Damn him.

And he knows.

Because his gaze drops to your lips before back to your eyes, the corners of his own lips curling up at something he’s thinking about.

“What?” you grumble, your voice barely coming out and leaving you for dead in your time of need.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head and adds a shrug to his shoulders for extra nonchalance. “I just think after you ran your mouth like this, it’d be more fun to make you beg for it.”

Your hands come up to his chest, pressing flat against him to push him back but he doesn’t budge an inch because there’s no real strength behind the push and he knows it.

“I hate you,” you quietly say, hands still pressed up against his chest with the tiniest bit of pressure to make it seem like you don’t want him.

Unfortunately, Yoongi knows you too well.

“That’s fine, as long as you’re good to me.” The words leave his mouth in a breathy chuckle that drapes over your lips as his face closes in on yours, plump lips grazing the skin of your jaw. “You were always so good to me.”

“Why did you leave me, then?” Your voice comes out a bit choked, a big gulp following your question and it’s almost like you’re attempting to swallow the words back down. You can’t believe you just blurted that out. Is one of the side effects of that dumb pink pill being emotional as hell?

He freezes for a few seconds before pulling away and searching for your eyes. His expression is decorated by a frown and his pretty lips are pressed into a thin line.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, just lets the deafening silence settle around you. Stares at you as if one of the world’s greatest unsolved mysteries is being revealed to him and the answer is in your irises. Watches as you idly blink at him and it makes his lips twitch. Seems to be in deep thought and you can’t figure out what’s going through his mind for the life of you.

Then, he speaks.

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

His words paired with his intense gaze sends a jolt of electricity down your spine, leaving your legs to wobble like they’re made of jelly.

You both stare at each other for a while in complete silence. His familiar, black, feline eyes staring into yours so intimately summon a vine that wraps around your heart, digging its sharp thorns into your most beloved organ until it bleeds out all over your insides.

He’s right.

You clearly haven’t moved on.

“Let’s just,” you pause and shake your head free of those thoughts. You don’t bother to finish your sentence as you wrap your fingers around his wrist, leading him toward your once-shared bedroom and he simply lets you.

As soon as you walk in, you let go of his hand and reach for the hem of your shirt. You yank it off your body without a second of hesitation before tossing it somewhere on the floor and it makes him chuckle for some reason.

You turn to glare at him. “Something funny?” you snark, arms crossing over your chest like a child that wanted the purple lollipop instead of the yellow one.

He stares at you from the entrance of your room, an amused smile still on his pretty lips. His eyes scan the walls and the furniture as he slowly makes his way in, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “I see that you’ve changed the entire room.”

Your eyes follow the direction of his gaze, scanning around the room as if you’d forgotten what you changed about the place. “Yeah.”

He struts toward you, getting so close that he’s practically pressed up against you. His onyx eyes stare you down, one of his infamous unreadable expressions plastered on his face. “Trying to act like I never existed?” he asks, hands still buried in his pockets and fuck, how you wish he would just give in and touch you.

You simply blink up at him, your eyes pingpong-ing between his eyes from left to right continuously as you try to think of a way to answer.

Should you lie? Should you just be honest?

As if on cue, your question is answered when he lazily places his right hand on your hip, pulling you even closer to him.

Be honest.

“No.” You shake your head slightly, never breaking eye contact with the enticing man in front of you. “I was never going to forget about you if everywhere I looked just reminded me of you.”

His hand tenses on your hip, a muscle in his jaw tenses up and your eyes are just in time to catch the way his Adam’s apple bounces up and down.

You shift your eyes back up to his, blinking your eyelids at him so innocently yet so full of temptation. He slowly starts nodding his head as if he just had an epiphany and then moves his hand from your hip to your waist.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, thumb rubbing circles onto your bare skin.

You shrug your shoulders smugly. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He doesn’t need anything else. His lips are on top of yours the moment the words leave your mouth, teeth clashing at how quickly he lunges at you.

His mouth devours you like a man starved as his other hand grips the back of your head to keep you in his grasp, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth.

Several soft moans resound in your throat that he simply swallows, hand balling into a fist on the back of your head, gripping your hair at the root.

You mewl, your hands coming up to squeeze his biceps as you try to grind your hips into his. Fuck, you’re like a fucking animal in heat.

“Fuck, I’m barely touching you and you’re this needy,” he whispers against your open mouth before shoving his tongue back in.

Your insides are set ablaze when he starts pushing you backwards with his own body until your calves hit the mattress and automatically makes you fall backwards, dropping onto your bed.

He wastes no time climbing on top of you, lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down the column of your throat to the strap of your bra as he gently starts tugging them off your shoulders.

You automatically arch your back off the mattress, encouraging him to unclasp your bra and he does.

Whilst he unclasps your bra, he coats your collarbones in soft kisses and absentmindedly throws your bra to the side as he brings his hand back up to fondle your breast in his large hand.

“Fuck,” you whisper, every single inch of his touch electrifies your body and sets your soul alight. Damn, you’ve missed this.

His thumb gently teases your erect nipple, rolling it around whilst he continues to nibble on the skin of your neck.

Your hips involuntarily buck upwards into nothing and you almost flinch at the way his breath grazes your neck when Yoongi softly chuckles, clearly finding your extreme level of arousal amusing.

“Can you just stop teasing me?” you whine, legs spreading wider and wider without a second thought.

“You’re gonna have to ask a lot nicer if you want me to do that, sugar.” He lifts his head off your shoulder and closes in on your other breast, wrapping his lips around it whilst his hand slowly travels down your stomach to your clothed sex. He starts sucking on your nipple and the effects of that pill makes it so it feels like he’s touching you all over, on every part of your body, on every inch of your skin. Causes you to squirm and moan under him like a fish separated from a body of water.

“Fuck,” he chuckles, “I should’ve made you take that pill so fucking long ago. Look at you.”

You simply grumble, “Fuck you.”

He lifts his head off your breast to stare at you directly in the eyes and you instantly regret running your mouth. “Yoongi, I just want–”

Smack!

“Ow!” you cry out, the warmth of the slap on your pussy spreading through your skin like wildfire. You instantly whimper, “I’m sorry.”

The apology means nothing to him, though.

He shakes his head. “Always running that fucking mouth of yours.” His fingers tuck under the hem of your shorts and he slides them down your legs before tossing them aside like he has personal beef with the article of clothing.

“Holy shit,” he whispers as he glances at the massive wet patch on your panties and all the slick smeared around your inner thighs, eyes practically bulging out of his eye sockets.

You can’t help but frown, though. “What?”

“No wonder,” he says, seemingly answering his own unspoken question. “You are completely soaked. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this fucking horny.”

You whine, tucking your thumbs under the hem of your panties to drag them down your legs and he doesn’t even try to stop you, just simply stares at you in awe but your panties don’t budge an inch when you stop and decide to just give in, in hopes he’ll fall for your tricks.

“Please, just,” you yelp, “fuck me. Please. I think I’ll die if you don’t.”

He throws his head back as he laughs, his gorgeous neck on full display for you. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Yoongi,” you pause, “I’m so fucking serious. I’ve been thinking about you fucking me all day. I need you to. Please.”

He searches your face and seemingly takes note of the desperation and earnestness in your eyes. Shortly after, he drags his gaze down your exposed body, simply staring at your naked figure.

Sprawled out on your bed, lips swollen, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin, pupils dilated, breasts bare with nipples standing at attention and your arousal that has already started dripping onto your sheets.

He slowly starts to nod his head and in the blink of an eye, he yanks his own shirt off.

The view of his bare chest brings back so many memories, all the times he fucked you good come rushing back to you and it isn’t fucking helping your case.

A persistent lump forms in your throat that refuses to disappear but that’s when you realize that it’s not just a lump but words. The words ‘I miss you’ are forcing their way to the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill.

But you absolutely refuse to let that happen.

Just bite your tongue.

“All day, huh?” he muses, talking more to himself. He quickly ditches his sweatpants in the meantime and tosses them off the bed. “What took you so long to text me?”

You silently watch as he crawls back over to you in just his black boxers, settling right next to your body and supporting his own weight with his elbow while his other hand returns to your panties. Teasingly plays with the hem. Presses his lips against your neck. Inhales your scent.

You stay quiet for a few moments, eyes shut tightly at the tip of his fingers brushing against your pelvis. So close yet so far. “My pride,” you finally reply.

He simply chuckles at your words and slowly tucks his fingers under the hem of your panties, groaning when the back of his knuckles brush against the sticky patch of your arousal on the inside of your panties. “I don’t think I’ve seen this amount of wetness. Not even in porn.”

His skin finally makes contact with your sex, running right up your wet slit and collecting all of your arousal on the tip of his finger. “Holy fucking shit, Y/N.”

You mewl, hips already thrusting up into his hand but he simply uses his palm to press down on your pelvis.

“Stay still.” The demand makes your insides twist into a wringed out shirt and makes your pussy clench around nothing.

“I can’t,” you whimper, legs shaking at the simple touch of his fingers smearing your arousal all over your sex. “I’m trying to but I can’t.”

It’s like you have no control over your body whatsoever. You just want to be fucked.

“Why can’t you?” he quips as he plunges two fingers right into you, groaning when your slick walls tightly hug his fingers. He already knows, he just likes to push your buttons.

“Because I want you,” you breathe out, moaning at the sensation of his fingers slowly pumping into you. Your sensitivity is off the fucking charts, just his fingers being buried in your pussy without any movement whatsoever could have you cumming in no time.

“I can tell,” he cockily chuckles. His sultry laugh is so full of mockery, the type that would usually piss you the fuck off but in this moment turns you the fuck on. “I just need to prep you, baby. Can’t be hurting you simply because you’re writhing like an animal in heat.”

You quickly shake your head. “I don’t need any fucking prep,” you moan as his hand picks up in pace. “Please, just fuck me. I’m already wetter than I’ve ever been. You literally just said it yourself.”

He lifts his head off your collarbones and searches your eyes for a moment, a stern frown on his brows. “Are you sure?”

Yoongi’s always been into manhandling you and being rough but only when it’s pleasurable for you. He’d usually go down on you or work you towards an orgasm using just his fingers, in hopes it’d have you ready to take him.

So, no, he’s not used to just jumping in and fucking you.

You quickly nod your head. “Never been more sure.”

He stares at you for a moment longer but the sincerity in your eyes is prominent. He then simply spreads your folds with his sticky fingers, smearing your arousal all over your sex before pulling his fingers out of your pussy, the sounds leaving your sex almost embarrassing you.

He slides his hand out of your panties and glances at his hand, eyes scanning his fingers coated in your pussy slick.

“Fuck, look at that,” he whispers but doesn’t even grant you the time to look when he immediately shoves his fingers into his mouth, sucking all your arousal off his digits.

“Yoongi,” you whine, clenching around nothing as you watch him.

“Fuck, princess,” he grunts as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth. “It’s been too long. I’m gonna need to eat that.”

You want to protest but he’s already pulling you toward him by your thighs, settling in between them as he’s now face to face with your slick-covered panties.

“I want to be fucked,” you whine, staring down at him between your legs but his eyes are just focused on your panties.

He replies, “And I want to fucking eat you out so you’re gonna have to be patient, you little brat.”

You don’t have the time to whine any more when he pushes your panties to the side and the single action could have you coming undone, right here, right now.

He idly stares at your glistening pussy like he’s Monkey D. fucking Luffy and he found the One Piece after years of venturing the seas.

“Why are you staring like that?” you quietly ask, unfortunately not possessing enough strength to close your thighs out of self-consciousness.

With a simple shake of his head, his face closes in on your sex and he licks a long stripe up your pussy, collecting a great amount of your arousal in a single swipe of his hungry tongue.

But you’re oozing so much wetness that he simply keeps going, licking all around your sex before focusing on your swollen, angry clit. He wraps his lips around your sensitive pleasure nub and starts sucking, coating his entire chin in your juices.

“Fuck!” you cry, reaching over to pull on his roots, fingers tangled in his soft black locks.

The sensitivity you’re experiencing is too much. “I’m gonna fucking cum, Yoongi.” You’re not even joking.

“Already?” he hums in mockery before wrapping his lips around your clit again and sucks some more with no regard of overstimulating you.

You quickly nod your head and within the next few seconds, you’re cumming all over his tongue and around his mouth. A cry rips through your throat and you’re sobbing at this point, pulling so hard on his roots that it causes him to hiss in pain.

Grinding your hips up into his face, into his nose, into his mouth. You can’t believe how quickly that stupid pink pill has you levitating off the bed, it’s like you don’t even belong on Earth anymore.

The orgasm hits you like none ever before, leaving you even more sensitive. You came within barely, what? A minute of stimulation? Two? Oh, you’re so done for.

You push against Yoongi’s head in hopes he’ll stop and he does—after giving your swollen clit one last slurp.

“Holy shit.” You can’t believe that just happened.

“That was really fast. What was that? A minute? A minute and 30 seconds?” he laughs as he sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“It’s that fucking pill,” you mumble defensively, trying to catch your breath.

A low chuckle leaves his mouth before he glances down at the bulge in his boxers. “Well,” he pauses, “you should take that pill more often.”

You roll your eyes with all the brattiness you can muster, hoping it annoys him as much as he annoys you. “This is the last time I’m even letting you in here, I hope you know that.”

His eyes shift back up to yours and he tilts his head to the side in question, blinking at you with a glimmer in his eyes that you can’t quite describe.

You stare back, trying your best not to look fucked out right now but you know you’re failing horribly at it when he simply shakes his head and lets out a bitter chuckle.

“You just wanted to use me one last time, hm?” he scoffs as his fingers tuck under the hem of his boxers, sliding them down his thighs and tossing them off the bed.

A surge of guilt spreads through your chest when you realize how that must’ve sounded to him. “You know that’s not what I meant, Yoongi.”

“No?” he muses, placing his hands on the back of your thighs before pushing them all the way against the mattress on each side of your body. You know your body isn’t supposed to be able to do this, apparent by the strain in your inner thighs but for some reason, it doesn’t bother you as much.

“No,” you whimper as he uses his own weight to keep your thighs spread, sliding his rock hard dick in between your folds handsfree, but not entering you just yet. It has you squeezing your eyelids shut, trying to focus on the feeling of his rock hard cock—all the ridges and veins on his dick—rubbing so good against your swollen clit.

“I don’t believe you,” he says, watching as you squirm from the slightest bit of friction that he has full control over. It makes you want to smack that grin right off his face.

“I swear,” you sniff, not even being able to thrust your hips up for more friction because Yoongi’s weight and strength keeps you restrained.

He simply hums in response, continuing to slide his dick over your slit, completely coating his shaft in your slick. “If you want me to believe you,” he pauses as his eyes shift up to yours, “you’re going to have to beg and convince me. Tell me how what you just said isn’t true.”

“Please,” you say, no hesitation. “Please, I didn’t mean that. I–just fuck me. I swear I don’t want anyone else to be in your position right now, I only want you. No one else knows me like you, no one.”

He continues to simply watch your face twist in borderline agony from the lack of friction, the sensation you so desperately crave.

“That so?” His tone is filled with so much arrogance that it makes your veins burn with lava.

You merely hum in response and finally crack your eyelids open, just to see him staring into your eyes with that familiar glint in his. Fuck.

“Ready?” he whispers, lining his tip up with your hole and cockily chuckles when you eagerly nod your head.

He abruptly freezes. “Ah, fuck, wait.” His dick is not on your slit anymore and it makes you frown at him.

“What?”

He groans, “I have no condoms.”

For fuck’s sake.

“I mean,” you start, “you’re the last person I had sex with. Did you have sex with anyone after me?”

You’re not sure you even want to hear about it but in this moment you’d do anything to just have him finally fuck the shit out of you.

He avoids your gaze as he keeps it glued to his dick sliding up and down your slit. “I have.”

Oh.

“But it was protected, always,” he adds with a quickness, tone calculated and quiet.

Oh.

Okay.

That’s good but it doesn’t make you feel any better.

You have to swallow your emotions at this moment because your pussy is basically screaming at you to just swallow your pride. “Okay, then just do it without.”

He peers up at you through his thick brows with a frown. “Are you sure?”

You mumble, “For fuck’s sake.” Your hand quickly reaches for his shaft but he slaps it away just as quickly.

“I know you’re horny as fuck but I need you to be 100%,” he pauses when he sees you glaring at his dick. “Look at me, dammit.”

Your eyes shift to his and you childishly groan. “Yes, Yoongi, I 100% consent to letting you fuck me raw. Now, will you please just–”

He doesn’t even let you finish talking as he slides his dick right into you, bottoming out completely. You yelp at the intrusion, your slick walls stretching around his shaft so well, like it always has.

“Holy shit,” he whispers with closed eyes, the disgusting squelching coming from your sexes is proof of your arousal and the moans falling from his lips as your pussy tightly hugs him sounds like a choir of angels sustaining a high C.

You try to keep quiet, you try not to squirm, you try not to say the craziest things right now. Like ‘I love you’, or ‘I’ve missed you so much’ because you’re just horny and dumb.

“Move,” you whimper, needing more than he’s giving you right now. He hears you loud and clear, sliding out of you and right back in. The disgusting squelching reaches your ears but you can’t bring yourself to care at the moment, not when Yoongi finds it hot and throws in occasional ‘fuck, listen to that’s and ‘you’re so fucking wet’s.

You cuss, eyes rolling to the back of your head when your sensitivity reaches its peak. A few more thrusts will already have you cumming, you’re sure of it.

He continues to thrust, slowly starting to pick up his pace and he finally cracks his eyelids open. His eyes find yours as he stares at you—scanning your pretty face that he loves to look at—especially when it’s twisted in pleasure like that.

Brows furrowed, lips swollen, pupils dilated, mouth agape, a thin layer of sweat draped over your forehead and building up in your hairline.

Somewhere along the line, the eye contact becomes too intense for you. Your hand snakes around the back of his head, closing the distances between you two by pulling him closer to you, licking and sucking on the honey tinted skin of his neck.

After a while of sucking and nipping at his neck and his thrusts never coming to a halt, your orgasm starts approaching you rapidly again. “I’m gonna cum,” you cry, tears pricking in your eyes from the pure pleasure that’s setting all your insides ablaze.

“Already?” he murmurs as he leans down, kissing away the tears that have subtly started rolling down your temples. “But I have yet to ruin you.”

Fuck.

“Whatever, though. I guess you’re just going to lose count of the amount of orgasms I’ll fuck you through.” He states it so nonchalantly because he knows only he could ever make you feel like this, make you desperate like this, make you a needy mess like this.

His hips continue to harshly snap into yours, the indescribable sensation of being fucked at this angle and pace has your thighs clenching. Unsurprisingly not long after, your orgasm hits you full force once again.

A sob rips through your throat, your trembling hands grab at his shoulders, nails painfully digging into his skin as he fucks you through your high. His low chuckle rings in your ear, breath hitting your throat as he lowers his face into the crook of your neck.

“Cumming all over my dick and sucking marks on my neck. Are you trying to claim me again?” he whispers, knowing how possessiveness was big a turn on for the both of you back in your relationship.

You simply cry under him, the orgasm lasting longer than any you’ve ever had before. His dick kisses your cervix repeatedly, your breasts bounce continuously from the momentum of his thrusts and the sound of his skin slapping yours only increases in volume the longer he fucks you.

“I asked you something,” he says, lifting his head off your shoulder to stare down at you. “Where’d that bratty mouth that I love so much go?”

You simply grunt in response, teary eyes glaring at him as you slowly come down from your high. The corners of his lips curl up in a twisted smirk at the sight in front of him, you know he enjoys seeing you in this state and him being the sole cause of it pleases him greatly.

The overstimulation is starting to catch up to you. Your hand basically moves on its own, pressing flat into his lower abdomen in order to get him to slow down.

However, it means nothing to him. He simply continues to thrust into you like he’s got something to prove. “Answer me, Y/N. Do you want to claim me again?” he repeats.

You mewl, sinking your cranium further into your soft pillows, exposing more of your throat and neck to him as tears continue to pour out of your eyes.

“Fuck you,” you whimper, digging your nails into the skin around his belly button but it doesn’t elicit a single reaction from him.

He simply chuckles at your snarky comment as he lowers his lips onto your throat, sucking and nipping at it. You know he expected you to say that. No one else knows you like the back of their hand like he does.

“There’s my girl,” he mumbles against your skin. His words paired with the simple act of kissing your neck has all your insides clenching and twisting with something you can’t quite describe.

Butterflies?

Something you’re not going to admit out loud.

“I don’t appreciate you talking to me like that, though.” With one more thrust, he pulls out of you and harshly flips you onto your stomach. You don’t even have the time to react when he gently grabs your hips yet roughly hoists your ass up off the mattress.

A sharp sting spreads through your asscheek and that’s when you realize his rough hand came down on your bum, spanking you hard.

“Ow!” you screech in pain yet pleasure, every vein in your body pumping blood faster and faster as you anticipate exactly why, of all people, you called Yoongi over.

He doesn’t even give you the time to come down from that spanking before he gives you another one. And another one. And another one.

“You ask me to come over after not talking to me for months, then beg me to fuck you. I give you what you want and you still have the audacity to be so rude to me?” He clicks his tongue loudly and immediately after the scolding, spanks you yet again. “Biting the hand that feeds you. Tsk. I should cum in that filthy mouth of yours for talking to me like this.”

He shoves his dick back inside without a warning and continues to assault your poor asscheeks, rough palms continuously coming down to your ass in loud smacks.

You hoarsely cry out under him, most likely from the embarrassment because thanks to that damn pill you might cum from just being spanked at this point.

As if he heard your thoughts, the spanking comes to an end and his hands are now flat on your back, keeping you pressed into the mattress with his weight while he starts fucking into you again. “You like getting fucked from the back, right?”

Your ass bounces back against his hips with each thrust, adding more and more sensations to your body. You’re not going to last for very much longer.

He mumbles, “No, that’s not it.” He leans forwards, pressing his chest into your back, lips grazing the shell of your ear and he places his hands against the mattress on each side of your waist, supporting his own weight. “You just love being fucked like a slut.”

Fuck.

“Isn’t that right? You don’t care in what position you get fucked in, as long as you’re getting fucked, hm? Like the horny slut you are.” He remembers exactly what you like and it’s embarrassing. “My slut, though. No one else’s.”

And you admit that yes, you wouldn't just want any stranger to talk to you like this.

It only works with Yoongi because he knows you. Because he understands you. Because he loves you.

Or he did once, at least.

But him showing up at your front door, no questions asked, 10 minutes after you asked him to, might be proof of something you both are trying to deny. Not like it matters.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you moan. You’ve already lost count but it doesn’t matter, not when he’s fucking you so good.

“Cumming so quickly from just being talked to like this. I bet you’ve missed my filthy mouth just as much as I missed yours,” he whispers into your ear, pressing soft kisses to your skin in a way only a lover should. “I fucking love it.”

The soft kissing and the low volume of his voice are a stark contrast to the rough pounding of his hips and the degrading words leaving his lips.

And you can’t help but love it.

“Tell me I’m right,” he demands as he picks up the pace, snaking one hand around to wrap around your throat and pull you up until the back of your head collides with his shoulder. “Tell me it’s true.”

Now with your orgasm approaching, he knows you’d do anything to get there.

He knows you too well.

“Fuck, I love it!” you cry as your nth orgasm washes over you, your body violently jerking under him from the overstimulation you’re experiencing.

“I know you do,” he chuckles as he fucks you through your orgasm. “That’s my girl. My fuckin’ girl.”

Fuck.

He has no idea what those words do to you.

Well, it’s Yoongi. He definitely knows what it’s doing to you.

Because you are not his girl. Not anymore.

But you don’t have the energy to correct him nor do you want to. Because at this moment, it feels like the two of you never separated. Like you never spent a day apart. All of the nostalgia, love and hate comes rushing back to you. Surely it’s that stupid pink pill’s fault.

He pulls out in a swift motion and turns you onto your side before he lies down behind you on his side as well, chest pressed into your back as he pulls you closer.

Fuck, how many positions is he going to fuck you in? Is he making up for all the time you spent apart?

Now that you’re in spooning position, he gently places his hand under your thigh and lifts it up to spread your legs. His hand leaves your thigh as he uses the same hand to guide his dick to your pussy again.

Your thigh almost wants to give out and drop, your chest still dramatically rising and falling as you chase your breath.

Another cocky chuckle rumbles in his chest at how you struggle to even move now, his hot breath draping over your neck and his hand returning to the same spot on your inner thigh as he lifts your leg again and pushes into you.

Your head falls back, falling deeper into his embrace and he welcomes that by pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. “I don’t know how I survived all those months without y–” he pauses, “your pussy.”

Hmph. He’s the pussy if he doesn’t want to admit he misses you.

But then again, he was never that type. Yoongi was never the type to show his love through words but rather through actions and services, he had difficulties expressing his affection with words.

Like when it took him a year to say ‘I love you’ yet everyday after he came home from an exhausting day at work, he’d pull your feet into his lap and massage them in hopes of offering you some kind of relief.

Or when the topic of wedding vows came up and he said he finds them useless yet he’d buy you a fresh set of bouquets every week until down to the very week you broke up.

Or when he’d place a glass of water on your nightstand everyday when he left for work, whether he fucked the shit out of you the night before or not.

Yoongi always just showed you.

And now that he’s balls deep in your pussy, now that the effects of that pill are clouding your mind, now that his proximity is distorting your mind and setting all your nerve-endings alight again, you have to consciously stop yourself from asking him to come back home—back to you.

Your mind is so distorted that you don’t even recall the bad moments or the reason for your break up right now. You just miss him.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers in your ear, thrusting his hips into you at a considerably slower pace but by no means lacking in strength and passion.

“Like I’m fucking floating on a cloud,” you mumble back, body almost falling limp at his proximity and his dick rubbing your walls so deliciously.

He simply chuckles, “That’s what I like to hear.”

He continues to fuck into you, occasionally groaning and fondling your breast. “Fuck,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to the back of your neck.

“Yoongi, I–”

“I know.”

You don’t even know.

You don’t even know what you were going to say.

But his confident ‘I know’ proves to you that he knows.

Thanks to his slow pace, it takes your orgasm a little longer to approach and thank fuck for that.

“I’m gonna cum soon,” he tells you, rubbing your tummy from the back. “Where do you want it?”

“I don’t care where you cum as long as you kiss me during it.”

Damn. Why the fuck would you say that?

Great. He just abruptly stopped thrusting. You’re such a fucking idiot.

You would have never been able to admit this if you didn’t take that stupid pill or even if you weren’t facing him with your back.

He swiftly pulls out and wraps his fingers around your bicep to turn you around, making you face him now. Still in spooning position but this time facing each other, he pulls you close, lifting your leg onto his hip as he guides his dick back into you and propping your head up on his bicep.

His hand finds its way back to your asscheek and squeezes the soft skin in his rough hand as he pulls you even closer, pressing your chest right into his.

“Cum with me, baby. You’re doing so good.”

He’s so mean for doing this. So mean for the things he says, so mean for fucking you exactly as you like it, so mean for making you feel like you still belong to him. Like he belongs to you.

He thrusts his hips into you faster and sure enough, the effects of the pill get to work because your stomach starts twisting from the inside immediately after the change of pace and his request of cumming together.

Your fucked out eyes meet his determined ones, staring into those black bottomless pits of his as he chases his own release.

He simply stares back, eyes occasionally dropping to your lips. In this moment, his eyes are everywhere you look, his breath hits every inch of your skin, his hand on your hip holds you so tightly that you think be might crack your hipbone. He’s inside your head. He’s everywhere. He’s everything.

It seems like he wants to say something but his attention gets disrupted by the sound of something buzzing on the nightstand behind you.

It’s his phone.

He tears his eyes away from yours, reaching for it whilst still being inside of you and by the guilty look on his face, it doesn’t take a genius to decipher it must be someone whose arms and bed he found comfort in after separating from you.

When he thinks you must’ve realized, he tosses his phone off the bed and returns his attention to you.

But he doesn’t owe you anything. Not an explanation. Not an apology. Not even love.

It’s quiet for a few moments, just your occasional soft moaning and his heavy breathing as you close your eyes to avoid his gaze.

Until you crack your eyelids open again and find out he’s been staring at you the entire time. Your walls tightly clench around him again, indicating your orgasm is close. “Just call me your girl again,” you whisper, allowing the vulnerability to escape your system once again.

Dumb bitch.

“You are. You are my girl,” is all he says before pressing his lips against yours as promised, grabbing a handful of your asscheek as he snaps his hips into yours and forces his tongue into your mouth.

You let his tongue force itself past your swollen lips, crying into his mouth as another orgasm sends electricity down all your limbs, making your brain explode with ridiculous amounts of dopamine and launching you straight to your Utopia.

You murmur some shit into his mouth that even you don’t understand, voice coming and going whenever it pleases, more and more slick gushing out of your completely drenched pussy. Tears continue to escape and roll down your temples, your nose is runny, your voice is hoarse.

A soft moan resounds in Yoongi’s throat when his own orgasm hits him, thrusts getting inconsistent and rough as he starts painting your walls with his warm cum, groaning loudly into your mouth which you happily welcome.

This is otherworldly.

Nothing will ever feel like this moment right here and you’re not sure whether you’ve accepted that yet.

He fucks both of you through your orgasms, pumping his load into you like it belongs inside of you and fuck, have you missed the feeling.

With a few more sloppy thrusts, creating a mess everywhere, his thrusting comes to a halt yet he never stops kissing you.

He curls his arm so your head shifts on his bicep even closer towards his face, keeping his dick buried in you, eliciting a simple sigh in content from the ex-girlfriend in his arms.

After an extra few minutes of nonstop making out with a man that was once yours, you’re the one that pulls away. Your stomach clenches with something you can’t describe when you watch him still chase your lips until he realizes you’ve pulled away, making him slowly open his eyes.

Is it guilt? Is it desire? Is it regret?

Fuck. Fuck. This whole idea just wasn’t smart.

You did your best to rid yourself of the stain he planted on you, closing the mark where he sunk his fangs so deeply into your skin, into your soul. You’re letting him reopen it and you’re so damn fucking stupid for it.

And you don’t understand why he’s the only one you want. No one else.

He stares at you for a moment before pressing his forehead against yours, still trying to catch his breath.

You stay unmoved for a few more moments before he delicately pecks your lips again and gently pulls his softening dick out of you, your nose scrunching when his load starts to leak out of you and onto your sheets.

He doesn’t say much else as he gets up from your bed, eyes searching the floor for something before he hunches over and slides his boxers back up his legs.

He leaves your bedroom without another word, making you simply frown at the ceiling but he quickly reappears with a glass of water and a damp towel.

He hasn’t changed a bit.

He takes care of you like nothing’s changed, cleaning your body up, changing the sheets while you don’t move a muscle, tucking you under the fresh covers and making sure you drink your water before opening the windows in an attempt to get some fresh air after you’ve fogged up the windows in the room.

He sits at the edge of your bed, gently tracing your hairline with the tip of his finger. “How are you feeling?”

If only he knew.

Your mouth slightly curls at the corners, a lazy smile plastered on your lips. “I feel amazing.”

Another sultry chuckle leaves his mouth as he nods his head in agreement.

This is nice.

But your mind changes when you silently watch him rising to his feet and slowly reaching for his clothes.

Ugh.

You’ve been vulnerable enough.

You asked him to come do one thing and he did it. You can’t ask much more of him.

But your heart works faster than your brain.

“Can you stay the night?” you quietly ask, fidgeting with your fingers under the sheets, relieved that he can’t see.

He glances at you over his shoulder, a frown on his brows. It seems like he thinks about it for a moment before parting pretty his lips to say, “What?”

Fuck.

Your voice goes even quieter, thinking of a way to reformulate the question. “Do you want to stay the night?”

He idly blinks at you, eyes staring straight into your soul as if you just asked him the most absurd question that you could’ve asked him. “Do you want me to?”

The neutral tone of his voice simply makes you shrug your shoulders in response, avoiding his intense gaze that always makes you feel like no one else exists in his mind but you.

Stupid.

“Y/N,” says Yoongi, quietly. Your eyes twinkle up at him, the clear look of a dilemma plastered on your face. He closes the distance between you two, hovering over your body before repeating his question with a bit more bluntness. “Do you want me to?”

Your swollen bottom lip is trapped between your teeth, veins pumping with anxiety and anticipation.

You sniffle a bit in hopes that it makes the tension and silence less awkward. “Yeah.”

Your eyes trail his features, remembering how gorgeous he actually is. How could you ever forget? His thick brows, his sharp eyes, his plump lips, his soft nose, his beautiful hair.

The next few words that leave his mouth rip you right out of your thoughts.

“Then I’ll stay,” he pauses, “for however long you want me to.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

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captainsboonie · 2 months

Text

Allergies

words: 3961

Warnings: Implied sexual content, hormones (oh god hormones!!!!!!!)

Additional tags: reader is a sergeant, a/b/o dynamics, pack dynamics, scenting, omega!reader, alpha!price, no y/n used, kneeling-aftercare not sex-aftercare, john price is a BIG man, reader is very sad and stressed but doesnt realize it :(, uncomfortable leather couches = best kneeling session ever, readers hormones go wild cuz of scent blockers

Summary: It was becoming such an issue that it interfered with your job and your abilities. You couldn’t do your paperwork if an Alpha had brought you the papers, as it would end in you having to evacuate the room to not disturb the other people working with your wheezing. If an Alpha had cleaned your gun in the weaponry, you couldn’t use it until it was fully cleaned and reassembled again by a Beta. It was getting worse and worse throughout the weeks, and honestly, it was stressing you out. You might lose your rank, or even your job, for this.

After suddenly getting very sensitive and reactive to scents, a lone Sergeant is in desperate need of help. Captain John Price, as it happens, had her on his list for possible recruits for the 141. Losing a possible member was not ideal to him - so he decides to help out.

notes: this literally took all my motivation thats ever existed. i dont know why. just eight pages of pure suffering is what this is (also havent i used a yellow color for the summary text before? or is it the same as the orange??? where'd yellow go). its 01:14 so if beta read is bad its just cause im tired

You’ve gotten allergic to certain scents.

Or, that’s the only reasonable explanation for your current suffering, anyway. That, or you accidentally breathed in or consumed some weird chemical on a mission that was fucking your sense of smell up. You doubted both former and latter, but at this point, you were desperate for answers.

Being an Omega wasn’t so bad. However, being an Omega while living in the same building as an uncountable amount of military Alphas, was worse. Everything about them stunk. Wherever you went, that musty smell of dominance coated everything: walls, tables, chairs, rugs, the toilet paper, and even the cutlery. Just raising a fork to your mouth was enough for your brain to short-circuit, making you drop the fork on the plate which was loud – so loud that everyone turned their heads towards you as you sneezed into the bend of your arm.

It was becoming such an issue that it interfered with your job and your abilities. You couldn’t do your paperwork if an Alpha had brought you the papers, as it would end in you having to evacuate the room to not disturb the other people working with your wheezing. If an Alpha had cleaned your gun in the weaponry, you couldn’t use it until it was fully cleaned and reassembled again by a Beta. It was getting worse and worse throughout the weeks, and honestly, it was stressing you out. You might lose your rank, or even your job, for this.

Management obviously noticed, and instead of firing you, put you on scent-blocker pills. Now you could at least eat and wipe without coughing your lungs up, having constant throat burn, or getting nosebleeds every time you sneeze due to the constant irritation of your airways. It got slightly better, good enough for you to be able to work, thankfully. You finally got your paperwork done, not reacting to the scent of the Alphas as if you inhaled pure black pepper. The constant stench was still annoying, but compared to the hell you’ve been through the past weeks, you considered it durable.

But suddenly, the pills decided to start a fucking war with your hormones. You felt like total shit; even the slightest inconvenience either set you off, or left you quietly sobbing in a corner. There was no inbetween for the two weeks that the pills were in effect. It got so bad that you growled at one of the Lieutenants, which ended in one of the Betas having to pull you away from said Lieutenant (which, unfortunately for you, turned out to be an Alpha) to prevent any unnecessary scuffles.

After that incident, which was witnessed by practically every soldier on base, a few others got involved. Remarkably, management tried to find other solutions after making you stop taking the pills. You thought that they would have fired you long ago, sparing themselves from the complications and total waste of their time. Normally, you wouldn’t be complaining about getting free food and housing, but your worsening condition prevented you from enjoying the luxuries. At this point, you would rather have them fire you than let you stay and suffer through the agonizing pain and distress.

Thankfully, some higher-ups found a fitting nurse on base that was willing to investigate your troubles. Well, basically every nurse in the infirmary was willing to, since Omegas weren't researched to the same extent that Alphas and Betas were. Getting the chance to investigate and witness a rare case as yours seemed to greatly attract the nurses.

The nurse visited your room barely three hours after you got the notice from management. She entered quickly, closing the door gently behind her as she introduced herself. The meeting turned out to be extremely short, to your surprise. After just a short physical examination and some questions, she was done.

“It’s stress.” The nurse concluded while taking off her sanitary gloves, which she had used to feel your scent glands only seconds earlier. Your eyebrows immediately scrunched slightly, eyes narrowing. As she threw the gloves in a nearby trash can, you started pondering. How was this caused by stress when you only felt stressed after this happened? Your eyes followed her as she walked around the room, packing her tools back into the bag she brought them in. She looked over at you, and tilted her head a little. “You look confused.”

“I mean… yeah,” You mumble, looking around the room to avoid eye contact. Had you caused all of this chaos just because you were stressed? You suddenly felt guilty. You had always been able to control the stressful environment at base and on missions – what had managed to go so wrong now? The nurse looked at you curiously while holding her bag, as though she was leaving. You ended up quietly muttering, afraid to accidentally make her feel insulted. “Sorry, but I don’t think that’s possible.”

“...Why wouldn’t that be possible, Sergeant?” She sighs, but the look in her eyes proves that she’s not tired of you. She looks at you with care – not with the usual sternness you’re used to from the Lieutenants. She puts the bag down on the floor, and goes to sit on the bed next to you. Her calming scent wafts through the air, making your previous guilt slowly fade, and muscles release their tension without your command – making you feel a little sleepy. That’s why most nurses are Betas; the natural ability to calm being almost essential. Your thoughts gather way faster now than before, the Beta’s scent doing wonders. You sigh, and look over at her on your left side. “I’m not stressed. I’ve never been too stressed, cause I would’ve noticed, right? I was perfectly fine until this happened. This is the thing that’s been stressing me out, but nothing before that.”

“You’ve misunderstood me,” She smiles, and puts a warm hand on your left knee. She was extremely grounding, and you understood perfectly why management chose her specifically. “It’s not you, hun. It’s your Omega that’s stressed – that’s most likely why you haven’t felt it until it became real bad,” she pauses for a moment, ”tell me, have you done anything recently to calm it down?”

“Well… no. Not really. ” You murmur after a few moments, in thought, as you think back on the recent months. It’s first now that you notice the signs: you stopped getting the urges to nest only a few months after you first moved to this base, you started to rub your scent glands often, and eventually you even stopped scenting your own room. You have no pack, no mate, no bonds. How were you supposed to keep your omega content when you didn’t have someone to care for you? The nurse purses her lips and pats your knee softly to bring you out of your thoughts. “That’s what I suspected. You practically dozed off when you smelled my pheromones, you’re that sensitive. Plus, I can smell the scent of a stressed Omega, and I shouldn’t even be able to.” She’s right. Only Alphas and your pack should be able to identify that.

“I know that you’re confused, but I think I may have found a solution for you.” You look over at her from the corner of your eye, sighing. “Is there even a solution at this point? I’ve got nobody to calm it down.” You answer shortly, giving up hope. You had already tried to find packs, especially here on base, but none were too keen on taking in a stray. Your heats, which you fortunately only experienced twice per year, were solved by mere one-night stands with no aftercare. It left you broken, but it especially broke your Omega. It was hurt, and had nobody to seek help from. The nurse brings you out of your thoughts once more. “Don’t get all caught up in those depressive thoughts. You know that Lieutenant that you slightly …reacted towards?”

“...That’s a fancy way of saying it. But yes, I do. Why, what about him?” You cringe, cheeks turning vibrant as you think back. He’d taken the last protein bar. And you’d growled. You sigh and rub your forehead, and the nurse chuckles. “I didn’t mean to make you think back, since you seem to have taken it so hard. What happened wasn’t your fault.” She goes over to the bag, that’s still laying on the floor, and pulls out the notebook she had been using to write down your symptoms. She walks over to the bed while flipping to another page, sitting down and showing you the messy writing while explaining. “His Captain knows about you. You’d apparently been on his list of people he might interview for the 141, but when you started reacting this badly to scents, he decided to keep an eye on you. I contacted him before I got here and told him my suspicions, and he’s happy to help.”

You swear that your cheeks are going to ignite. All of this came to you as a shock – you’d been on his list, he kept an eye on you, he wanted to help you? The thoughts were rushing through your head all at once. The nurse visibly saw it on your face and put one of her hands on your shoulder gently. Her gaze was reaffirming, calming, as she spoke. “He’s a Captain, he knows what he’s doing. He’s been taking in strays since he joined the military – I can guarantee that he will take care of you.”

After some more conversing you found out that the nurse had already booked a meeting, on your behalf, with said Captain. She said that it was better for you to meet him as soon as possible, so she booked it for this evening. Sigh. You had no time to prepare yourself for what was about to happen, no time to gather your thoughts, as you decided to go to his office immediately. He’d apparently never said when this evening, so as you knocked on his door, you hoped you’d arrived at a suitable time. After an awkward second of waiting outside his door, the handle lowered. The high-pitched squeaking of the hinges slowly grew as the door opened wider, and revealed Captain Price.

He was a huge man, standing tall and wide in the doorway. His size was anticipated however, due to his secondary gender. Large muscles protruded faintly from his tight long-sleeve, cargo pants stretching tightly around his thighs. Jeez. Did this man even buy clothes his own size? His hair was ruffled slightly, some spiky ends pointing in all directions. His beard, however, was well groomed, showing off his lips as he smiled.

“I’ve been waiting for you. Come in.” He rumbles, quite literally. His voice was deep, tone commanding, as you stepped inside his office. As soon as you stepped over the threshold, his smell hit you like a shockwave. You were sure that you could smell coffee and leather, but there was just too much. It overwhelmed you, making you immediately cover the lower half of your face with the thick hoodie you’re wearing, to escape the odor. It worked to an extent, but it certainly wasn’t enough to block it out. Price noticed what was happening, and studied you as he walked over to his office chair. “Had some Betas in here for a while, thought that it would drown my scent out enough for you to be comfortable. Guess it didn’t work then, did it?”

“No, sir.” You mumble from underneath the hoodie, standing straight, muscles tense. You really didn’t want to be here, in a room all alone with someone who could overpower you within a few seconds. An Alpha that you’d never met before, your superior, that you barely knew the motives of. You had no idea how he acted – had no idea what he was like in general, and it made you nervous.

Price knew it too. The way the scent in the room was drastically changing from his own to one of chemicals proved an Omega in distress, but what gave it away was your tense shoulders and knees, as well as the way you wouldn’t make eye contact.

“You seem uncomfortable.” He says, looking at your eyes from across the office table. It was decorated with the usual office stuff: Pencils, ballpoint pens, a monitor, and a few small plastic plants.

“I… I don’t really know what to do,” you speak up after a few seconds, words once again muffled by your hoodie. You looked up at him, finding his gaze already set on you and observing you. He sighs, leans back in his chair, and spreads his legs slightly. “I know that we’re not pack, and that this may make you uncomfortable, but you have to try. Let’s just… get to know each other, yeah? Then we’ll take it from there.”

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

It was difficult not to trust Price, even with how tense you were. His gentle and caring demeanor helped you relax enough to be able to sit next to him in the uncomfortable leather couch that stood in a corner in his office. It was thoroughly used, cracks decorating the leather, branching out like lightning over the worn material. You wonder what had made it so appealing in the first place as you shift uncomfortably, your back feeling like you’d sat against a brick wall for hours on end. You both had managed to keep a steady conversation going since you first arrived, but your squirming interrupted the mood.

“...Uncomfortable?”

As he speaks, you swear that you could see a shiny glint of mischief in his eyes. It disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, promptly replaced by a neutral look that you couldn’t interpret. You sighed quietly, faking a smile and shaking your head. As you did, he smirked somewhat, looking away from you and shaking his head as the smirk grew. He could see right through you. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that. We both know that’s not true, love.”

The nickname had, what you assumed was, the desired effect. Cheeks hot, you look up at him, puzzled. He looks back at you, his gentle eyes reassuring you once more. The eye contact is intense – and eventually, his scent gets more intense. You could feel the beginning of an itch in your throat, making you draw back and raise the collar of your hoodie above your nose. He looked slightly disappointed at your retreat, but gathered himself quickly. He cleared his throat, gaze diverting from you. “Let’s not circle around the elephant in the room any more than necessary. You need me to take care of you, correct?”

“...I mean, according to the nurse, yes.” You mutter out from underneath the hoodie, turning slightly grumpy at the thought. You’d been so invested in the conversation that you’d forgotten why you were here in the first place. He rumbles a singular hum at your wording, interested. “But not according to you, then?”

It was like he could open your skull, reading thought after thought as if you were a simple book. You supposed it was natural considering his position, but it still felt eerie. “No. I don’t feel stressed.”

“You’re out of your mind – straight nonsense, that is.” He chuckles, voice rumbling, almost reverberating inside his chest cavity. His lips were stretched thin as he genuinely smiled, looking up and in your eyes a short moment later. “The scent of stressed Omega is practically drowning me, inside my own office, Sergeant. Are you really so sure that you aren’t stressed?”

You huff at him and look away, eyebrows scrunching slightly as you close your eyes. He was good company at first, but now you just wanted to leave. He could most likely feel the scent of stress increasing, fighting his instincts to care, making him squeeze his eyes shut and lower his head. He let out a deep sigh. “Just let me try to help. If it doesn’t work, no harm done. If it does work, you’ll be able to live normally again.”

“So much for living normally in this line of work.” You shoot him a glare from the corner of your eye, much to his disappointment. He raises his eyebrows as he keeps a neutral expression. You huff once more, obviously not keen on his idea. “What are you even going to do? How are you going to help me?”

“Me? I’m not going to be doing so much.” His gravelly voice boomed cooly. You look over at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He seemed oddly comfortable on the unbearable couch, gaze cool and steady. His body was wide, legs parted, taking up as much space as possible. He was so confident, and it somehow made you feel… safe? He slowly spoke again, calmly, as if he didn’t want to upset you with what he was about to say. “You’ll have to kneel for me, Sergeant.”

Kneeling. It was something you’d never done before. It was the ultimate act of trust between Omega and Alpha – explaining why you’d never experienced it. You had never had someone to trust enough to kneel for, especially not within the military. The thought of kneeling in front of Captain Price, someone you’d met just a few hours ago, was dizzying. Your eyebrows scrunched, not sure how to react to such a thing. “Kneel?”

“Yeah. Kneel. You know how it works.” Thing is, you don’t. How are you supposed to know when you’ve never done it before? You suspect that Price reads you once more as you glare over at him. His eyes widen – in remorse or something else, you don’t know – as he raises his chin slightly. He keeps his eyes on you, observing, but eventually lets out a sigh. “Guess it was stupid of me to assume. Don’t worry, I’ll guide you through it – it’s as simple as it sounds.”

“It sounds sexual.” You sigh, as he grabs a soft pillow from the couch and puts it on the floor between his spread legs. He lets out a small chuckle, and looks up at you as he prepares. “Yeah. It’s going to look sexual too, love, but you’ll just have to trust me with this.”

He finishes quickly, somehow managing to find a comfortable position on the couch. His legs are spread wide, ready to accommodate you in between them. You blush once more, realizing that you’re basically going to have his crotch in your face.

You immediately try to stop your train of thought, eyes widening as you realize the scent in the room is changing. You can’t identify it, but Price sure can; pupils blown as he looks over at you from the corner of his eye. “Don’t do that if you don’t want this to have a completely different outcome.”

After stalling a few times, you finally dare to drop to your knees on the pillow. You were completely rigid, muscles filled to the brim with tension. Price immediately tries to get your attention. “Hey, look at me,” He orders, and as you obey, he rewards you, “there you go, just like that.”

The praise gave you goosebumps. You were now looking up at his eyes, pupils expanding as you soak up the praise. He smiles and nods once down at you, rewarding you for listening. “Good job. Now, I’m just going to do something real quick, and you’ll feel very good. Trust me.”

The position you were in made you trust him, made you obey his commands. You had no idea if it was instinctual or if you were just depraved, but at this point you didn’t care. It felt good to kneel for him, and the praise was just an extra bonus. You nodded slowly at his words, and after your confirmation, he started slowly moving his right hand towards the left side of your neck. As his fingers grazed your bare throat, you could feel his scent growing sweeter. Instead of bitter coffee, he now smelled like sweet chamomile tea – making you drowsy. You could feel a pressure that you didn’t know existed in your airways die down, and all of a sudden, you could breathe.

His palm was now gently laying on the left side of your neck, and your eyes slowly started closing. He was murmuring sweet praise constantly, telling you how good you were for him, and how everything was going to be okay. Suddenly, his hand moved slightly up to your scent gland, and pushed on it ever so slightly. The sensation left you speechless, only capable of releasing a relaxed sigh as you push your neck further into his palm. What you couldn’t currently see due to your closed eyes, was the proud smile Price was wearing. He knew that if you could purr, you definitely would. The expression on your face was just pure relaxation as you float – experiencing a heavenly, ethereal feeling that was unknown to you. Price continued murmuring those sweet words, and you couldn’t think straight anymore.

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

You don’t know how much time has passed. You must’ve fallen asleep, since you woke up leaning on Price’s left thigh. You could feel a large and warm hand on your head, holding you steady against his thigh so you wouldn’t topple over. You gradually open your eyes, pupils trying to adjust to the harsh lightning as you do.

“G’morning.” Price’s voice affectionately murmurs down at you, starting to stroke your hair slowly as you adjust. “How’re you feeling?”

“...Tingly.” You respond quietly, almost in a whisper. The Captain chuckles, and you look up at him softly as he keeps stroking your head. His voice is intentionally soft, not wanting to accidentally startle you. “I wasn’t expecting an answer. Post-kneeling is always difficult for Omegas to describe.”

As you slowly woke up and regained your rational way of thinking, you noticed that you smelled entirely of Price. There wasn’t a single hint of your smell left, and you looked up at him, blushing. “Did… Did you scent me?”

His eyes widen and look down at you almost immediately. He scoffs, shakes his head, and looks away once more. “No, I absolutely would not scent you without your permission. You might smell like me after the kneeling, though.”

Price desperately tried to ignore his instincts. You, a stray Omega, definitely looking for a pack and a mate, smelling just like him. His Alpha took that as a sign that he’d claimed you, and Price tried, with all his might, to prevent himself from escalating the currently wholesome situation to something… not-so-wholesome.

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

You were surprisingly content half-asleep between his legs, sometimes dozing off enough for you to almost fall over. But, all things have to come to an end, and sooner than later you were being escorted out of Price’s office by the man himself.

It was difficult to say goodbye. You two had just done something that you couldn’t undo, made an unbreakable bond, practically tying you two together with a short invisible string that couldn’t be cut. You both knew it – yet, there were no regrets.

As you step over the threshold after saying your goodbyes, Price’s hand stops you by grabbing your shoulder. You turn around curiously, looking up at him with wide, expecting eyes. “Meet me here at six, tomorrow afternoon. I’ve got good news for you.”

You got the job that Price had originally put you on the list for, and soon after, you met the 141 for the first time. They all looked at you curiously – you smelled just like their Captain, after all. After sparing a glance over at said looming – seemingly protective – alpha, they managed to piece it together.

taglist!!!: @cadotoast

#captain john price #captain john price x reader #john price #john price x reader #captain john price x fem!reader #captain johnathan price #john price cod #captain price #captain price x reader #john price x you

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fire-emblem-drabbles · 4 months

Text

Pairing: Gale x reader (tav)

Prompt: Soulmate AU (sharing pain)

Description: For most of your life, it was normal things; cuts and bruises, sprained ankles and such. Your love must have been some sort of spell caster, from all the magic burns and forces you felt too. But then one day... it hurt so bad. The darkness, the pain, the hunger you felt... At least, it was a burden shared.

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: minor descriptions of pain/wounds, descriptions of Gale's arcane hunger,

Notes: I wanted to write for Gale so so bad but nothing was coming to me. Until I was like "fuck it back to the basics" also these fics are such a good way to use all my screenshots. I have so so many. kinda lowkey don't like this but I've had it sitting in my drafts for so long, and just needed to finish it lol

You had thought the greatest pain you could feel in this life was that which your soulmate bore; a great, arcane hungering force that festered in the chest. Though only they bore it truly, you felt it as if it was your own pain. And you, too, felt that hunger, felt relief when it was sated and knew the pain of going without. Knew what to do when you felt it fester and want only more.

But you didn’t know what to think when you felt a sharp pain in your left eye, felt it crawl and wrench it’s way into your brain. How could you? It was something you had no explanation for (what had your soulmate been up to, then, to feel such a way?) It was only when you were abducted by the nautiloid, faced with a mind flayer and it’s tadpole, that you notice how sickeningly familiar the sensation of a worm, crawling into your left eye to make home for its self in your brain was.

So, imagine then when you met not one, not two, but six other people with tadpoles as well. You couldn’t be sure if any of them were your soulmate… but you also couldn’t rule it out. That, and you kept hearing that even more people were infected than the people you now traveled with. Realistically, finding your soulmate should probably not be at the top of your list when you did have a mind flayers tadpole… but the idea that they could be so close to you did have you excited!

But what if they were part of this strange Absolute cult? What if they had already been turned into a mind flayer (would you feel that? Would they even have a soul for your to connect to at that point?) There was a lot to worry about… Chief among them being that familiar growing hunger within your chest. But having been recently dumped off a ship, you have very little to your name to feed it…

“This locket…” You held it aloft in your fingers, soft light from the torches around your tent catching it. You had gotten it from Arabella’s mother after saving the poor girl from Kahga. You could use it’s magic to feed your soulmate’s hunger… but would the other’s notice it missing? How would you explain it’s been consumed?

“You seem to have a lot of your mind.” Gale’s voice catches you from your thoughts, causing you to snatch the locket and pocket it.

“There’s much to think about.” You hum, looking up at him. “How can I help you tonight, Gale?” You change the subject, smiling at him.

“I’ve just come to remind you to eat dinner.” He holds a bowl of something that smells far too good to be camp provisions, leaning down to hand it to you.

“You made this?” Your eyes widen as you accept the food, stomach growling in anticipation.

“Oh this is nothing,” He waves his hand dismissively. “Were we back in my tower at Waterdeep, I would show you the true extent of my culinary talent.” You take an experimental bite, smiling at the savory taste that welcomes you.

“It’s very tasty! I’m nonetheless impressed you made this with supplies from our camp packs.” You praise him, seeing the smile that lights up his face. You have to admit, it’s rather charming even if he is a little haughty. “Thank you for coming to hand this to me, I may have forgotten otherwise.”

“You’re welcome! We can’t have our leader falling behind.” He smiles, but seems like he wants to say something more before deciding otherwise. “You have a goodnight, _____.” You decide not to question it on it. Though you like to think you’ve grown close to him this past week traveling together, not enough to push boundaries quite yet.

“You too Gale!” You give him a little wave, watching as he goes back to the campfire where he must have cooked dinner. You retreat to your tent, closing off from everyone else at camp. Another, uncomfortable pang of arcane hunger hits you and with a soft groan, you put down the food.

“Fine, fine.” You groan and hold your throbbing head, pulling out the locket with the other. You study it a moment, before closing your eyes and holding it to your chest, willing that great, unknowable force within to feed on the weave it held. When the next terrifying moment it is done, and that deep ancient, hunger is sated once again. You let out your bated breath. At least for now, it is sated…

Across camp, Gale can only take a shuddering gasp as he feel’s the orb within him sated. While this hadn’t been the first time his soulmate had helped him sate the orb, this time it almost seems serendipitous that they should do so when he finds himself with nary a magic artifact (nor a tresseym to go out and hunt for one).

Once, as Mysta’s chosen, Gale had wondered what use a soulmate would do him when he was chosen by a Goddess. To be favored by Mystra, mother of the weave… It was quite an addictive feeling, admittedly. But to fall from that grace, to lose the bulk of his powers and have to face the consequences of the orb within him… only for someone who cares for him to feed that hunger, to save him hurt when they may not even know him… It’s quite bracing, and enough to bring a smile to his face. Someone out there cares, despite the pain he has caused them, and despite, for a time, thinking he could live without them.

Still, it is a burden he would rather like to take care of himself. With that in mind, Gale readies himself to tell you (and the rest of the party, though they haven’t quite earned his trust like you have) about the orb at the earliest convenience. You seemed a little troubled tonight so when the day came, he would find the time.

However, it seemed like you had much planned for the day following. Though he was there to watch you agree to raid the goblin camp, Gale hadn’t expected the strides you would make in that endeavor today alone. Already your small party had cleared out the abandoned village before the camp and now you were checking out the surrounding area.

“Excuse me, _____, if you have a moment.” Gale pops up beside you a moment as you survey the area. “I have something rather important to share, if you can spare the time.”

“You’re among friends Gale, go right ahead.” You smile at him, and notice how his face softens at that.

“Yes well,” He takes a deep breath, eyes never leaving yours. It always caught you off guard, how easy it was for him to capture your gaze. “Ever since you freed me from that stone, I’ve seen you demonstrate remarkable guile and courage.” You watch his hands move up and around, something you’ve noticed he does often when he talks. “When you defused the situation between Aradin and Zevlor, or how you saved that young girl from Kahga…” He shakes his head a little, dark eyes meeting yours once more. “In short, I’ve come to trust you.” He smiles at you, that same boyish smile that you can’t help but smile back at.

“I’m glad you said so, I feel the same way.” You see his smile grow wider a moment, before he continues on.

“The reason I go on to say this is that I’ve grown confident enough to tell you something I haven’t told another living soul. Except for my cat.” He looks troubled for a moment, watching your face for any change of emotion. You try to keep your reaction even, merely raising your eyebrows for him to continue. “...You see, I have this… condition. Very different from the parasite we share, but just as deadly.” You watch his hands move before his chest in an almost frantic motion, before falling swiftly as he looks to you.

“...Okay.” You nod, looking at him carefully. “What… kind of condition?” You half frown, seeing how strange he was being about this. Not that he wasn’t already a little queer, but in this moment Gale seemed so… tense.

“The specifics are… rather personal… but suffice to say it is a malady I’ve learned to live with-- though not without some effort.” He gives a little grimace, but continues, learning in closer to you. “What it comes down to is this; every so often, I need to get my hands on a powerful magical item and absorb the weave within.” Your eyes wide (in what you hope is a normal way) and you nod.

“So this… illness causes you to consume magic.” You repeat plainly, nodding. “While that is strange, I don’t think it will be so hard to accommodate.” You nod at him assuredly.

“You… don’t have any questions?” Gale asked, seemingly dumbfounded.

“Well of course I do. But it seems like you shared as much as you were willing to on the matter already.” You offer him a small smile and watch the relief spread on his features.

“I thank you for your trust in me. It shall not be unfounded.” He looks rather serious for a moment, before continuing. “Thankfully, I am sated for now, but its merely a matter of time before my craving returns. So I turn to you; I need you to help me find magic items to consume. It is vital, dare I say, critical.”

“Of course. I’m happy to help in whatever way I can.” You smile big for him, hoping he can’t hear the pounding of your chest.

“You have my thanks. Again, your trust in me will be rewarded in anyways I have at my disposal. I’m sure we won’t have to look far, Faerun overflows with magic treasure! As do our packs, in fact,” Your breath hitches at that. He was of course, talking about the locket you got from Arabella’s mother… the very one consumed last night by you (and by extension, your soulmate). What if he asked for it now? How could you tell everyone its gone already? But just as you go on to panic over a response, Gale continues.

“But, I know the allure magic artifacts hold, and their power. All this to say, I understand the sacrifice I ask of you. But if I may be so bold, its for a very good cause indeed.” Gale pauses a moment, and makes sure to catch your gaze once again. “I hope I can count on you.” You nod at him, which seems to please him.

With that, you continue on your way, heading further into the mountains to reach the goblin camp. You couldn’t help but be distracted though. How many people in the realm needed to consume magic for a ‘condition’? And… of those people, how many of them have also been infected by a mind flayer tadpole? You couldn’t help but wonder that-- distracting you enough that as you walk out of the destroyed village and over a bridge, you walk right into the next goblin camp.

“Look Klaw, look’s like dinner’s come to go.” The goblin sneers at it looks up at you. Your eyes widen as you take in the goblins. At least three in front of you that you see, some strange pack animal, and surely more in sniper points. You might be able to talk your way out of this…

“Remember, goblins often come in the dozens, not just a few.” Gale warns.

“Why’d you come this way?” The goblin huffs again, looking up at you with disdain. Yes, you could easily talk your way through this. You can feel the tug of a parasite in this one. Authority. But another, desperate part of you wants to see. If you or Gale got hurt in this battle, would you be able to see the wound on the other… Could he really be your soulmate?

You don’t remember quite what you said to anger the goblin so much, before you knew it battle had started. Thankfully, you had Lae’zel with you to enter the front lines and take out those pesky pack animals, while Gale and Astarion provided support from the rear. Though it wasn’t an easy battle by any means, the more goblins dead, the better in your opinion.

You tried to see if you can feel pain in any place you didn’t remember getting hit, but all of you had gotten one or two bad hits. There was even a point you had to help poor Astarion back to his feet after he had taken out the war drum that would call in reinforcements.

“How does everyone feel?” You call out. “I haven’t quite used all my healing spells yet, so if anyone needs a little pick me up…” You look around to your allies. Lae’zel seemed fine, having had a healing potion to take care of her wounds, and Astarion was looking decent after you had cast Lay Hands on him. You turn to Gale, to find him looking rather haggard, despite being relative safety (sans from a few archers, if you recall).

“If you don’t mind.” Gale calls you over, and you happily oblige, moving over to him while readying the spell.

“Where does it hurt?” You ask, raising your two hands as they glow with healing magic.

“Everywhere, really.” Gale laughs softly. “I feel like I got thrown around quite a bit that battle.” He shakes his head. “I’ll need to be more careful…” he shakes his head.

“You did fine, no need to worry.” You assure him, placing your hands just before his chest and letting the magic flow to him. He sighs in relief and smiles at you. “Don’t forget about yourself, though.” He adds.

“Oh I feel fine.” You assure him. A little better than the moments before, even. “I have potions if I really need them. I would rather save my magic for my allies, anyways.” Sure that everyone was feeling well, you continue to the goblin camp proper, trying your best to distract your self from your ever growing thoughts.

~*~

It isn’t many days after that (though its hard to tell, with all the battles, all the information, all the people you’ve met and helped) that you notice a familiar presence within. That aching, consuming hunger. Thankfully, in the days since you’ve gained plenty of magic items, any of which would more than be able to help Gale. Though this time, it had you nervous.

If you gave Gale an item, watched him consume it before your very eyes, and felt the pain melt away like a soft lullaby… what then? If he truly was your soulmate… what would that change between the two of you, if anything? Was Gale even interested in following his fate like that? It was all so worrisome… And, even if he wasn’t… Would you still have that familiar warm feeling in your chest when you caught his gaze?

Soulmate or not, you had… feelings for Gale. Ones that you couldn’t claim for the rest of the party. And despite everything, you still knew so very little about him. It seems as though your thoughts summoned him, as you look up to find Gale coming your way.

“Come to grab a snack?” You tease, seeing him approach you somewhat seriously.

“I…” He seems surprised a moment before recovering. “How could you tell? I thought I had done rather well in hiding my affliction…” He doesn’t seem embarrassed, more so surprised.

“Oh!” You couldn’t very well say it was because you had also begun to feel the ill effects of going too long without consuming magic. “You just seemed… a little strained today is all. Not that it effected you in battle in any way!” You assure him. “Just that it all took a little more out of you than it might usually…” Gale is quiet a moment, studying you. You can’t seem to meet his gaze, too busy studying the dirt between the two of you.

“I hadn’t known you to be so observant,” In the next moment, Gale is smiling softly. “You’ve read me correctly. My condition is… rather hungry, and I find that feeding it sooner rather than later leads to everyone being happier.” You nod at him, shuffling over to your travelers trunk where you seem to keep all the armor and weapons and goodies from your adventurers.

With your back to him, digging in the trunk, you speak. “If you don’t mind me asking… how does it feel?” You were looking for a specific ring you had picked up, one you were certain everyone would have no problem with parting with. “I mean… is it painful?” Fingers finding the cool metal of a ring of Color Spray, you carefully pull it from the trunk, ready to turn back to Gale for his answer.

“It’s…” He pauses a moment, taking time to consider his words carefully. “It starts off as uncomfortable, and if left unattended quickly become painful.” He frowns softly. “Though it has a number of unwelcome side effects, chief among them seem to be nausea, headache, chest pain…” You can’t help but grip your own chest as you felt a pain go through it. Yes, at this point, you were almost certain. There was just one thing left to do to prove that Gale was your soulmate…

“Um, I’m sorry if this is strange… but could I talk to you in private a moment?” You gesture to your tent right next to you and Gale seems surprised.

“Is this about…?” He stops himself as you shake your head no vigorously.

“It’s um… complicated. But fear not, I’m not going to deny you an item.” Gale seems concerned a moment at how you seemed to be uncomfortable but merely shakes his head.

“Very well.” He allows you to open the flap for him, and you follow him inside. It’s not as if he hasn’t seen the inside of your tent-- you often opened the flaps of it to let everyone know you were free to talk or do other things. But it felt much more intimate to be inside it, closed, with you. You seemed so different with your heavy armor and weapons to the side. In your camp clothing, you seemed so much smaller than the courageous paladin that led them all in battle.

And even now, as you looked upon him with rosy cheeks and worry, Gale couldn’t help but admire you. Who would have guess you would be so shy when it came down to it?

“What did you wish to ask me?” Gale chooses to speak first, seeing how you seem to be struggling just a tad with what to say.

“There… is no easy way to say this.” You admit, half frown fitted on your lips as you look to Gale. “If I am wrong this would be… one of, if not the, most embarrassing thing of my life.” You shake your head again, seeing the look Gale gives you. “But… I am almost certain of it, and would appreciate it if you would give me the chance to prove it to you as well.” You look to him with wide, pleading eyes.

“Prove what?” Gale watches you worry the ring in your hand, sees how you can barely meet his gaze and how you can’t seem to stop blushing despite nothing romantic or embarrassing happening between the two of you. “Please, tell me what has you acting so strange.” You heave a sigh, closing your eyes.

“Gale of Waterdeep… I think we’re soulmates.” It feels strange, falling from your tongue. Even stranger to see his reaction (how can stay so composed?) “Before you say anything I… can show you.” Before he can object, you bring the ring of Color Spray to your chest and let the arcane hunger within you (within him), feed. You feel the immediate relief, but not only that-- you see the look of awe on Gale’s face, see the tension leaving him.

“Well… that certainly is proof, isn’t it?” Even Gale is left astounded in the moment, looking at you with eyes anew. “I’ll admit I had my own suspsions… but you certainly took matters into your own hands, didn’t you?” He’s all smiles and familiar confidence, but you can’t find it in you to feel as steady.

“I… suppose so” You fiddle around a bit, finding his answer to be neither positive or negative. “How do you… feel about that…?” You ask softly. You had loved him for years and years, and finding out that Gale was the person you had loved and taken care of for so long made you so happy. But…

“How could I not be happy?” Gale moves a bit closer to you, taking your hand in both of his. “You’ve done so much for me… Now, and even before we met. To find out the person who took such good care of me is someone I’ve come to respect and trust so much… who wouldn’t be pleased?” He squeezes your hand.

“So you’re not… disappointed?” You add, rather quietly. Gale can’t help but soften.

“With you? Never.” He seems to think a moment, hesitating. “Still… to think that’s you’ve suffered though this like I have… it’s nearly unforgivable.” He shakes my head. “That my mistake led to you suffering as well.”

“Don’t say that!” You tug him closer with your hands, your strength giving Gale no choice but to comply. “Even if it hurts… I’m glad to be connected to you in this way. If I didn’t care, would I have supported you all this time?” At that, Gale smiles. “I… know it hasn’t been long since we’ve met. Shorter still since this revelation has come to light… but I do love you, even if you don’t feel the same.” You muster up the courage to admit this. “I’ve loved you for years and years… finding out you were the person I’ve been in love with just seemed to make sense.”

“… You really are more than I deserve.” Gale again squeezes your hand. “I’ll admit I… find myself fond of you as well. I was never one to put much faith into a soul mate…” You can’t help but deflate a little at that. Gale, noticing this, quickly continues. “But that’s changed since I was cursed-- since Mystra cast me out.” You blink at him, and he shakes his head. “Now that I know you feel the orb’s hunger as I do… you deserve to know the truth behind it.”

“Are you certain?” You frown softly as his hand leaves yours, but Gale merely gives you a serious look.

“I’ve cursed you as well as myself. This is something that effects us both.” Gale doesn’t beat around the bush. “It all starts with a king named Karsus…” Gale settles in to tell you of how he came to have the orb in his chest. Of the King, Karsus, who created his own weave in his ambition to rivil Mystra and once destroyed her. How Gale wanted to impress Mystra, and merely sought to return a piece of her weave back unto her-- that piece being the orb that was now inside his chest. Their union should have destroyed him but instead, the orb merely consumed his power. That, and his place at Mystra’s side; the goddess cast him aside for his folly and Gale found himself lost.

“I thought I had nothing left to live for. My powers lost, Mystra cast me aside… I was content to let the orb finish me off but…” He pauses, looking to you after staring off into the corners of your tent.

“...I remember. I had been sick and hurting for so long. I was desperate to get back on my feet, and came across an amulet that was supposed to boost my health. But as soon as I put it around my neck, it was gone. Consumed.” You smile softly at him.

“You gave me that first push forward. Luckily, even as a wizard locked in a tower, I had plenty of magic items to consume as well. But I also had Tara to go out and look for me. And… you.”

“You know, I was actually out to buy more items for you to consume before I got abducted by the nautiloid. I had wondered why you were going without for so long… Funny, to think, it was because you were also on the nautiloid.” You can’t help and smile wide. Gale returns your smile.

“Fate truly wanted us to meet, then.” Boldly, he chooses to cup your cheek before quickly pulling his hand away. You could feel your heartbeat pick up, see the flash of color on his cheeks.

“For better or for worse, we’re in this together Gale.” You instead reach out for him, taking his hands in yours. “I’ve only just found you and I’ve no intention of letting anything happen to us. No orb, no tadpole-- nothing.” You tell him confidently. “Come what may, let me help you.” His eyes widen as he looks at you.

“You truly are something else.” He smiles at you. “Very well then. I’ll accept your help.” You squeeze his hands.

You knew you were getting your hopes up, thinking Gale would admit to loving you just because the two of you were soulmates, because you admitted to loving him. But this… perhaps this was just as good. Knowing that he trusted you. That he had already liked you before knowing the two of you were bound by fate… At least now, by his side, you could keep him safe. It was a burden halved, a burden shared.

#gale x reader #gale x tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #soulmate Au

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nightprompts · 1 year

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&. 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝: 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

( inspired from the pun book from the last of us, here are some dialogue prompts of various puns. feel free to edit and change as you seem fit. )

❛ for a fungi to grow you must give it as mushroom as possible. ❜

❛ it doesn't matter how much you push the envelope. it'll still be stationary. ❜

❛ what did the mermaid wear to her math class? an algae bra. ❜

❛ people are making apocalypse jokes like there's no tomorrow. ❜

❛ why did the scarecrow get an award? he was outstanding in his field. ❜

❛ what did the triangle say to the circle? you're so pointless. ❜

❛ a book just fell on my head, i only have my shelf to blame. ❜

❛ i tried to catch some fog earlier. i mist. ❜

❛ i stayed up all night wondering where the sun went. then it dawned on me. ❜

❛ diarrhea is hereditary... it runs in your genes. ❜

❛ what did the green grape say to the purple grape? breathe, you idiot! ❜

❛ i'm reading a book on anti-gravity, and it's impossible to put down. ❜

❛ what is a pirate's favorite letter? tis' the c. ❜

❛ i wasn’t originally going to get a brain transplant, but then i changed my mind. ❜

❛ what washes up on tiny beaches? microwaves. ❜

❛ why are frogs so happy? they eat whatever bugs them. ❜

❛ i don't trust trees. they're shady. ❜

❛ i was going to tell you a pizza joke, but it's too cheesy. ❜

❛ i want to be cremated as it is my last hope for a smoking hot body. ❜

❛ there’s a new type of broom out. it’s sweeping the nation. ❜

❛ did you hear about the man who lost his left side? he’s all right now. ❜

❛ what do you call a bee that can't make up its mind? a maybe. ❜

❛ i tried to make a belt out of watches. it was a waist of time. ❜

❛ i got fired from the calendar factory, just for taking a day off. ❜

❛ did you hear about the guy who got hit in the head with a can of soda? he was lucky it was a soft drink. ❜

❛ tequila may not fix your life but its worth a shot. ❜

❛ why are there fences around cemeteries? because people are dying to get in! ❜

❛ thanks for explaining the word 'many' to me, it means alot. ❜

❛ i once ate a watch. it was time consuming. ❜

❛ why are teddy bears never hungry? they are always stuffed! ❜

❛ i don’t trust stairs because they’re always up to something. ❜

❛ never trust an atom, they make up everything! ❜

❛ i couldn't figure out how to put my seatbelt on, but then it clicked. ❜

❛ how do construction workers party? they raise the roof. ❜

❛ what do you call a dinosaur with an extensive vocabulary? a thesaurus. ❜

❛ when a clock is hungry, it goes back four seconds. ❜

❛ i made a pun about the wind but it blows. ❜

❛ it's hard to explain puns to kleptomaniacs because they always take things literally. ❜

❛ what did the ocean say to the beach? nothing, it just waved. ❜

❛ i have a joke about chemistry, but i don't think it will get a reaction. ❜

❛ i'm on a seafood diet. i see food and i eat it. ❜

❛ why did the restaurant on the moon get bad reviews? it has no atmosphere.❜

❛ how do you organize a space party? you planet. ❜

❛ i once heard a joke about amnesia... but i forget how it goes. ❜

❛ the frustrated cannibal threw up his hands. ❜

❛ it takes guts to be an organ donor. ❜

❛ why is the mushroom always invited to parties? he's a fungi. ❜

❛ a guy walks into a bar... he was disqualified from the limbo contest. ❜

❛ jokes with punch lines can be painfully funny. ❜

❛ so what if i don’t know what apocalypse means? it’s not the end of the world! ❜

#the last of us #sentence starters #funny sentence starters #roleplay memes #inbox memes #ask memes #rp memes #dialogue prompts #writing prompts #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #tv

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frenchkisstheabyss · 8 months

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☾ Wild Horses ☽

☾ Pairing: boyfriend!bang chan x reader

☾ Genre: angst & fluff all stirred up in a pot

☾ Summary: Your boyfriend comforts you when your depression sneaks up on you during a night out with friends.

☾ Word Count: 924

☾ Warnings: themes of depression/mental illness and the feelings that can come along with them

☾ A/N: I wrote this because having depression has led to a lot of loneliness for me lately and I needed some comfort. I hope that by sharing this someone else having similar thoughts/feelings to mine might find a little comfort too 🖤

☾ "No sweeping exits or offstage lines could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind and wild horses couldn't drag me away" - The Sundays, Wild Horses

People can’t imagine what you go through. It’s not a case of bad nerves or run-of-the-mill sadness. Too often you’ve found yourself sitting alone wishing that you could find the words to make them understand that depression is so much more than that. Depression is a parasite that’s wormed its way into your brain wholly consuming you.

The consumption’s gradual sometimes, ravenous at others, but exhausting all the same, stealing little bits of you that you aren’t quite sure how to get back. Everyone says, “I hope you feel better. Hang in there. Keep your chin up” but it’s not simple. And maybe they mean well, maybe that’s all they can say because they don’t know how to fix it, but it only makes you feel lonelier.

The thing is, you’ve never wanted anyone to fix it. You don’t need bandaids to cover the bullet holes in your heart. You just want someone to hold your hand through the pain. It’s why the tiniest flame ignites in the darkness that haunts you when the kind, comfort of Chan’s mahogany eyes lock onto yours, honing in on the most vulnerable parts of you.

“I know sometimes you feel like you have to pretend you’re okay,” he says, the warmth of his palms shielding your cheeks from the autumn breeze, “But you don’t have to do that with me. I’m here for you no matter what. You know that, yeah?” You nod, sucking back tears as you notice the small group of late-night partiers crossing over to your side of the street.

With your back to the wall of a closed restaurant not too far from the club you just left, it’s impossible not to be nervous about the faces that pass you by. Even with Chan somewhat obscuring the view, your stomach churns at the possibility that people might see you falling apart like this. “Hey, look at me” Chan whispers, using the sleeve of his black hoodie to catch the tears that drip down your cheeks like water from a leaky faucet.

The gentle act brings your attention back to him. He cracks a tight-lipped smile, happy to have you back with him. “Don’t worry about them. Come here.” He takes you into his arms, offering you his shoulder to rest your head on. You accept the invitation, nuzzling against him to bathe in the comfort and safety that comes with his embrace. There’s a woodsy scent to his cologne that feels like stargazing by a campfire at night. It puts you at ease. Everything about him does.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your night” you sniffle, playing with one of the strings that dangles from his hood. Tucking his hands under your jacket, he massages your lower back, soothing the tension coiled around your spine. “Baby, you could never ruin my night. The guys were too busy drinking to notice anything and even if they did, who cares? You’re what matters to me.” The emotion in his voice leaves no doubt that he means it wholeheartedly.

You are what matters most to him in this moment and the next. It means nothing to him that a night out at some club had to be cut short because the mask you put on to conceal your pain had begun to crumble, the synthetic laughter and forced smiles becoming too much to maintain. Chan gets it, hiding behind a mask with a happy face painted on it, he does it sometimes too but he doesn't want that for you. He’d rather be out here with you baring this beautiful, teary-eyed face of yours than in there where you feel the need to hide.

“I just,” you take a deep breath, slightly trembling at the truth about to roll off your tongue, “I’m afraid I’ll scare you away one day.” “Scare me? Do I look like I scare easily?” he asks, putting on a brave face the way that a child might. It gets a weak giggle out of you, even at times like this he knows how to get to you in the best way. “No, but I know there are times when things get really dark for me and I can get so lost in it...” He kisses you on the nose, a cute little wet one that turns icy when the wind blows across your face.

“As long as I’m here, and I always will be, you’ll never get lost in it,” he promises, “I know I can’t drag you out of it but you can always call me and I’ll come running in after you.” You need time. A second or two, maybe even a minute, to take in what’s been said. He gives it to you, patiently rocking you in his arms as he lets you process it in silence. A year into your relationship and it still feels strange to be loved in the moments where you feel most broken.

Chest to chest, his heart beats in sync with yours, reminding you that, even in the absence of words, you're cared for. “Where’d you come from?” you ask, fingers tracing the contour of his jaw. “Sydney. Don’t tell me you’re just noticing the accent” he teases, summoning his best pouty face for extra effect. He gets another giggle out of you, still faint with an air of sadness but he’ll take it.

Chan hugs you tighter, kissing your fingertips. “I love you” he whispers. You close your eyes, letting the world around you fade away and your insecurities with it. “Love you too.”

#bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan angst #bang chan fluff #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #bang chan x gender neutral reader #stray kids x gender neutral reader

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cherry-pop-elf · 3 months

Text

A Moment Of Peace

Morax x Chronic Pain Reader

Requested by Anon

You suffer from chronic pain, and that doesn’t help when you are in hell. You just wish to have a moments peace, and your designated nurse offers a idea

Warnings: 18+ ((gore wise)) talks of pain, chronic pain, gore, mental health, also it’s What In Hell Is Bad so is gonna be heavy in its sexual tones. NO ACTUAL SEX THO-!

Writing Commissions open

“Child of Solomon-?” You heard him knock, before entering the bedroom you were given. It wasn’t quite your speed, but it’s better than nothing. Very…..Red. Red and well….Yeah it’s a room Lucifer would give you. At least it was very comfy. Snuggled into a bed that was built for an orgy than a single person. Least it made it less suffocating, when you are trapped to lay there for hours at a time. All the free space to stretch, and make things work to exist.

“Come in, Morax.” You called, as you cuddled into one of the pillows. The stress of everything was finally catching up to you, and your body was suffering. Even in hell, you still could never find words to describe it. The aches, the burning, the existing. It’s hard, but Morax was the one demon that can grasp it. The designated healer, who has seen more than any one should. Demon, or not. It’ll take a toll.

“Ah, there you are. I figured. I could feel the heat of your nerves from half way across the castle-“ He announced, as he would come to your bed. There were books in his bandaged fingers, and a tray of sweets with drinks. You were very confused by it, as your stomach was not ready for such a thing. Your stomach was twisting and turning, not to mention lake of motivation at all to consume. Yet, he’s never shown incompetence with the field of medical care. Had you curious.

He was soon sitting next to you, in a chair by your bed, as he set the tray on the table. He was also working his clothes off. As if that’s a surprise, but even Morax had more politeness than this. He didn’t completely strip. Couldn’t if he tried, since he was soaked in bandages. Left to his shorts, and wrappings. Blood forever seeping through, and gore to be mush under the texture. That one working eye looking down at you, and holding so much emotion in it. He seemed excited even. Those hands would claps together, as you watched him. Holding your pillow so tightly.

How it was utterly fascinating to look at him. How you have seen him taken on so much pain, yet keep going. Acting like everything was fine. How familiar. For once, someone could genuinely understand your perspective. How much it sucked. Course, you couldn’t help but feel dramatic about it. Given you’ve seen under those wraps. The missing flesh, the gouged eye, the scars, blood, cuts, bruises, the falling out organs, all of it. Yet, he never dared compared. Your pain was just as real, to him, as the blood soaking the bandage over his empty socket.

“As you know, I take on the burdens of those with wounds and pain. Hence why I have not healed my own, as they are constantly being fresh-“ He begins, as if you didn’t know this already. He was still the smarter of the demons, so you didn’t say anything. You knew he was going somewhere, but your brain was just so foggy. You could hardly hear him honestly. It’s just a blur of noise, and ringing from the pain. Seemed he was aware of it, as he was soon silent. Allowing himself to let actions speak louder than words.

Before you knew it, he snuck into bed with you. Not a first, by many demons, but a first for him. You were about to question it, before you suddenly held immense clarity. It was like a thick blanket was lifted off of you. Your heart wasn’t ringing in your ears. Your breathing was steady. Your limbs didn’t tingle. You could actually comprehend the world around you. It was beyond words. You didn’t know such a feeling was possible. You were, for a moment, normal.

“So warm-“ You heard him mutter, as he was snuggling you. He couldn’t deny the comfort it gave him. A beautiful excuse to hog you all to himself, while everyone else had to go do important demon stuff. He was able to hug you, smell you, even taste you. It was worth taking all your chronic pain, and holding it. It was so worth it. How his fingers were dancing across your skin, and his breath inhaling you. Savoring the scent of human, with ancient magic. It was delicious, and sweet.

“It doesn’t cure it, does it?” You had to ask, as he shook his head. Figured. Makes sense. There were demons born without limbs, and he couldn’t exactly give them limbs back. They were born with it, so the body was forced to function as such. A default, if you will. Regardless, you were hugging him tightly. Just thanking him in your own way. Swore the bastard might jizz himself if you held him too tightly. He’s earned it, in your defense. His eye out right fluttered, as you held him tightly.

“Whenever there is a moments rest, between this war, I hope this can bring you some peace. I know I can not offer perfection, but I’ll be heaven bound if I do not try.” He said, as you were squeezing him tightly. It was mind numbing to have your body not be in this constant pain. You knew this would still be a drop in the bucket for Morax, but in a morbid way it was nice. Nice to know you weren’t burdening him with this. That he got a relief, in your stolen pain. pretty sure the bastard har to have developed a kink for this by now. Had to.

"New order, you sleep with me now.” You demanded, as you were going to get your use out of him. He held zero arguments, was giddy if anything, when you gave that command. How he snuggled into your neck, to inhale more of your sweet human scent. Seeming to be in his own pure heaven, well hell, by such actions. Now you knew why he brought the books and snacks. So you could actually enjoy a quiet moment, that he’ll hardly provided. He found a way to give you peace. He really did it. He found a way, in this madness.

You would grab one of the books, as your other hand would rub his back. To try and give him some emotional support all the same. To show him how grateful you were. Oh sex was so on the table for him. You knew damn well you COULD enjoy sex, even more, with him. Given the physical content meant he took your pain away, leaving you in true pleasure. That had you excited. You had so much energy again. The world was your oyster.

For now, though, you were going to finally enjoy something so many people took for granted. You found yourself a comfortable position to snuggle him in, and started to read. Actually able to focus on the words, and feel the pages in your fingers. The brain fog finally gone, as you snuggled him. How wild that your pain was also his pleasure, as it finally gave him an excuse to get a nap in as well. To heal his own wounds, he has taken for others. Your pain was his excuse.

This was going to be your new normal, and you were excited for it. To have clarity, and be able to focus again. To read the book, and study up more on hell, while Morax finally was getting rest. To finally get some healing done, while you could have a moments rest from the pain. To comprehend the sounds around you, like the distant rumbles of hell shifting and turning. The smell of fire, wine, and death. The textures of the blankets. You could actually be in the moment.

Despite how much energy it gave you, the escape from pain just made you crave sleep. Real sleep. Out like a light you were, with lying against Morax. How your body curled against his, and his arms tangled around you. The book left to be open next to you, drinks emptied, food eaten, and just at peace. Knocked out cold, and having a deep slumber. No tossing and turning from muscle spasms, and no nightmares from the anxiety and pain. You were resting, and with someone all the same.

It was peaceful. You had peace, for the first time in your life. Morax was truly your savior, and he deserved proper rewards for it. After you BOTH got a well deserved nights rest. A tangle of limbs, soft breathing, and the sounds of hell. All to lull you into dreams of hope, prosperity, and joy.

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fishbrain-glubglub · 7 months

Text

Seven months, fifteen days, four hours, and thirty-seven minutes.

It had been that long since Bruce's heart had been violently ripped out of his chest as he watched Superman- his best friend, his partner in-and-out of crime, his sunshine, his husband- crumple lifelessly to the ground, bloodied almost beyond recognition in his tattered uniform worn from his final battle against his home planet's ultimate weapon. It had been that long since the life left the Kryptonian's otherworldly cornflower blue eyes, taking Bruce’s soul along with it. It had been that long since Batman stopped pulling back his punches, beating even common crooks inches within their lives just to feel the pound of flesh against the void that filled his senses. If it was a bad night, the Dark Knight would even allow those same criminals to get the drop on him, allowing these low-level nobodies to beat him senseless just to remember what it was like to feel something, anything other than the bare nothingness where his heart used to reside.

Sometimes, the Batman even allowed the higher level rogues get the drop on him, falling into trap after trap just to feel the thrill of adrenaline at the thought that maybe it was his time, and he would finally be reunited with his zrhomin again in blissful eternity amongst the stars.

This was one of those moments.

"Truly, Batman, I must admit I am perplexed." Edward Nigma circled the captured Caped Crusader twirling his question mark cane lazily in the air. "I have created quite a list of complex contraptions in the past, only for you to masterfully evade and vanquish my plans without so much as a batarang out of place." Nigma stopped right in front of Batman, a menacing sneer warping his pale face. "Yet here you are, battered, bloodied, and barely a threat. I can only conclude that all those seemingly ludicrous rumors are true."

Batman bared his bloodied teeth with a sneer of his own, itching for Riddler to finish his monolog so the fight could commence. The overwhelming inner numbness had already begun to creep within the vigilante's chest, stealing his every breath in its greed to consume.

Nigma only sighed and shook his head slowly, pulling at the question mark end of his cane to reveal a blade. "I had always imagined our final battle to be both a test of brain and brawn, but I guess I must settle for what I am given." He placed the blade against Batman's jaw and leaned in close. "Give my regards to the Man of Steel, will you? At least he still appreciated my riddles in the end."

Behind the white lenses of his cracked cowl, Bruce closed his eyes imagining the golden radiance of his beloved's ethereal form, accepting the final blow and awaited his eternal damnation.

The blow never came.

There was a brief gust of wind, knocking Batman to the ground before his bindings vanished, freeing his aching limbs from their containment. The man's eyes snapped open as he regained his equilibrium, rolling to his feet before he could collapse. He looked around for the Riddler, expecting another ploy to spring any moment.

Instead, a figure clad in a simple black Kryptonian suit hovered just outside the Dark Knight's reach, radiating light like the sun itself despite the sliver of moonlight peaking through Gotham’s cloudy skyline. The man's curly black hair gently brushed against his shoulders, pairing strikingly well with the face of slightly disheveled facial hair that framed the man's face perfectly. His eyes, vibrant and full of warmth, bore right through Bruce’s chest, warming the external chill he had been damned to carry. The sight before him was too good to be true.

It had to be.

"B." The black-clad figure flashed a strikingly familiar smile, sending the Dark Knight's nonexistent heart racing.

Batman took a large step back, crouching into a defensive stance. "I don't know who you are, or who made you, but I will not hesitate to send you back in pieces."

A confused look warped the mysterious figure's face. "B? What are you talking about? It's me."

"You may have his face, automaton," Batman snarled. "But you will never truly capture the essence of the Man of Steel."

Hurt merged with the figure's confusion. "Bruce, please-"

A batarang bounced harmlessly off the black-clad chest, the figure's hand catching the weapon in the blink of an eye. It looked down at the object in both disappointment and slight anguish before raising its gaze back at Batman, its well-crafted eyes pleading.

"Bruce-"

"Stop!" Batman threatened the figure with another batarang. "I don't know how your creator gained that name, but if you say it one more time, I will destroy every trace of your and your creator's existence before the night's end."

The figure held up its hands in a placating gesture, still holding the batarand between its pointer finger and thumb. "It’s okay, B. I promise it's really me." When Batman said nothing, it continued. "Will you let me prove it to you?"

Batman growled. "Nothing you do can prove you are nothing more than a fake."

The figure's chuckle sent a tingling warmth through Batman's body. It was so familiar, so realistic, he could almost imagine this automaton was the real Man of Steel. The figure's mouth curled up into an accurate teasing grin. "Try me."

Batman quickly internally rattled off a list of questions, only to just as quickly dismiss them from thought. Many of them contained information accessible to the public. Questions related to Justice League information unknown to the public could still be obtained (though if that were true, Bruce would've been alerted before it could ever be transplanted into a fake). Still, there were so few options for the figure to truly confirm its identity.

Unless...

Batman straightened from his battle stance, storing his batarangs back in his belt and looked the figure directly in its eyes. The automaton slowly lowered its arms to its side, dropping the batarang to the dusty warehouse floor. A hopeful smile danced on its perfectly sculpted features, eyes gleaming similar to Bruce's memory.

The Dark Knight took a moment to brace himself, taking a deep breath before speaking as calmly as the numbness would allow.

"There lies the heat of summer

On your cheek's lovely art;

There lies the cold of winter

Within zhao,tes lonely heart."

Recognition and joy lit up the figure's face as it made an aborted motion forward before forcing itself to stay.

"That will change, Vikhzhao,

The end not as the start!

Winter on your cheek then,

Summer in your heart."

Before Bruce could even register the movement, he was lunging forward into the figure's- into Kal's- strong yet gentle arms, burying his bruised face into the crook of his husband's neck. The comforting warmth of the Kryptonian filled the crushing void that hard tried to consume Bruce for months, restarting his heart and sending a rapid rhythm under his skin. Seven months, fifteen days, four hours, and fifty-two minutes worth of anguish and sorrow bubbled violently to the surface of the Dark Knight's psyche, threatening to escape through his now trembling lips.

A gentle hand began rubbing soothing patterns against Bruce's tattered back while the other held him close, not daring to let go anytime soon.

"Hey now, B. It's okay." Kal's soothing tenor sent another wave of relief amongst Bruce's other overwhelming emotions threatening to consume the man. "I'm here, darling, I promise."

"You idiot!" Anger swelled above everything else, causing Bruce to pull away from Kal's embrace enough to look his husband in his beautiful otherworldly eyes, pounding half-heartedly on his perfect chest. "You fucking moron! You weren't supposed to die! Not until I was long gone, our life full of happy memories and zero regrets!"

"And that can still happen." The Kryptonian's smile didn't waver as he cupped his partner's jaw, lighting up every inch of Bruce's being. "I'm here, aren't I? There's still plenty of time."

"No."

Confusion shrouded Kal's smile. "No?"

Bruce tightened his grip on his love's waist, scowling without any heat behind it. "No. We have seven months, fifteen days, four hours, and fifty-six minutes of catching up to do." He glanced at the distant Gotham skyline before returning his now heated gaze to his partner. "And Bruce Wayne has a mandatory quarterly review meeting in six hours and twenty-seven minutes."

A darker, more mischievous grin spread on Kal's face. "I can get us home before you can list all of the things we have missed."

"That's not fair." Bruce huffed. "That's a very long list."

Kal scooped Bruce into a long familiar (yet still embarrassing) bridal carry before leaning down for the most heart-felt kiss Bruce had ever experienced in a long time. His body was instantly filled to the brim with warmth and love and happiness and Kal, melting away any physical or mental pain from Bruce's mind. Everything was realigned once more, life becoming worth living once more.

After what felt like a millenia and yet only the briefest of a millisecond, Kal pulled away, his brilliant sapphire eyes gleaming with light Bruce never thought he'd see again.

"You better get started then."

He never did finish that list.

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oohbuggypie · 1 month

Text

"and as he wept, he wept and said, 'Oh, my.. Oh, my.. Would to God I had died for He'"

this is fully inspired by @goferwashere 's PO!! Monster Hunter AU 🩷 depicted is Don Flamenco in his monster form being held in his last moments by Joe. the writing that describes their fight, Don's death, and Joe's regret are all below the cut as its very long. but WOW i just could not get this idea out of my head . thank u soo much Gofer for the amazing AU and thank u to the whole community for being my courage to be brave and release something a little less cutesie than usual ! 🥹 additional details i rlly want to be known::

-the tattoo on Don' torso is an altered version of that in the regular PO!! universe; the one depicted reads "COLOSSIANS 3:2" :: the verse's meaning is "Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things". this is meant to reflect his disdain for humans, and how he views them as lesser

-the stab wound placement is below Don's right pectoral; this is in reflection of Jesus Christ's 5th wound he suffered whilst being crucified. additionally, it is said that what seeped from the wound wasn't only blood, but water as well; i found this very fitting for his character for obvious reasons lol

-the lyrics above the drawing are a condensed / altered version from the choral piece "David's Lamentation", one of my favorite songs ever !

phewph okay writing time ! unfortunately i have never written angst, let alone fighting OR death .. this is also being released about half an hour shy of midnight on bad sleep so proofreading is out of the question.. this is prob a hard read but I STAY CONFIDENT ! here we gooo 🩷::

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

Don hissed and swung his fist in an aimless direction, hearing the collision's result come in the form of an agonized grunt from the man near him. Blind rage mingled with fear consumed Don's body in a way God himself forbade, yet he continued to batter any flesh that came into contact with his.

Joe's entire being ached, his eye now burning from the knuckles that dug into it just moments ago. He clenched it shut and let the obscurity of his vision drive his instincts to wherever they were necessary. He aimed to return the punch with his own fist plunging to meet Don's stomach, momentarily knocking the air from his lungs. As Don's arms instinctively lowered to gaurd where his sore flesh was struck, Joe snarled and drew his left arm back to slam a fist into Don's cheek. The siren felt a coursing agony not only externally, but through his heart. He knew what would come, yet he continued to bare his teeth. He ripped apart anything which bothered him and felt no haunting ring in his mind. Though this time, he feared that the bells would toll.

Joe took full advantage of the temporary stun he inflicted upon Don and wrapped his hands around the man's throat. Joe kicked Don's ankle in so that he buckled beneath his own weight, dropping them both to meet the floor. Joe felt a shake within his bones, like the structures in his own body didn't want him to do this. He didn't want to. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Yet his body moved now without his mind, pressing his entire weight into the neck of the helpless man below him. Don couldn't stand the desperation that racked his body, and above that distaste, he couldn't bare to look up at the deathly eyes staring into his own. The man who he called a friend held less semblance to a human and now closer to a wraith, some wretched figure distorted by horror. His skin appeared a sickly gray in the darkness of the gym's room, and had his hands always been this coarse and cold? Nonetheless, for the present time Don disregarded the friend he once had and viewed him now as a step above a pet; competition.

Don snarled and thrashed beneath the body of Joe and locked his hands around the arms above. His brain felt like a searing gas within his head, but that lack of consciousness was immediately replaced by instinct. Don slid his hands down to grip Joe's wrists and ripped them outwards with a fell swipe. Joe wasn't spared a second to process the motion before his nose was slammed by Don's forehead. A pained cry was all his voice could manage before his vision flickered black.

-----

When he awoke, only seconds has passed since he blacked out. With a horrified start, Joe began to thrash his arms through the water engulfing him. His legs kicked in the same motion, his left heel slamming into an excruciating pressure seeming to bind his right ankle. The force released as soon as it felt his bruising strike against it. Joe desperately made strokes with his arms upwards, looking for any form of light to signify what differentiated the surface from the bottom. Joe felt a darkness reigning upon him as another figure trailed close behind, its presence growing heavier with each struggling wave of his arms throughout the pool.

Joe's face broke the surface. Without a second to catch his breath, he began scanning the area with bewildered eyes for the nearest edge. His loafers felt like bricks tied to his ankles, and the turtleneck he donned was quickly becoming suffocating. A short distance behind him, a splash breaking the water's tension drove Joe into fight or flight. His arms clawed in front of him with strokes large enough to leave his arms aching the next day, yet that same pain was his drive to reach the edge quicker. He gripped the ledge of the hard floor and hoisted himself above the edge, rushing into a position where his knees and one arm balanced his body upright. With his unoccupied hand, he reached where the bells tolled and the colors sank. Joe frantically patted his pocket for where the knife's sheath bulged.

Don arose from the water he resided in just seconds after his former partner. Joe ripped the leather from his pocket and reached into it, gripping the handle as if he was warding death itself away. His knuckles were white with pressure, and his wide eyes locked on the man inches from himself. Don's eyes were sickly and no longer passing as human; the bags beneath them were a bruised purple, and where the whites of his eyes should be were replaced by a glassy blue. His brows dug wrinkles into his forehead like malicious scars upon skin. And the worst of it all was the death-like frown that crumpled his entire facial structure; it drew his eyes in a downward spiral, and his lips curled against his flesh like desperate hands digging into anything for hold.

With his chest exposed and either arms beside him as means to lift himself, Joe raised his blade and drudged it into Don's flesh.

Don's eyes fell like the world's light upon an empty room, and the sharp inhale in his throat thrummed akin to the death rattle. Despite the metal lodged deep within his chest, he managed the strength to drag himself from his home's grasp and to lay on the freezing tile below him. Joe's hands left his mouth as he let out some visceral shout that made cherubs above weep. He scurried across the soaked floor to examine the man before him. Joe slammed himself down upon the floor and struggled to lift him, eventually draping Don's being across his own. Don's arms rested against Joe's bent knees, and his head tilted into his chest with slowing breaths beating against his sweater. The remaining warmth of his breath settling on his own shoulder resembled the comfort of a blanket upon a child's cold body. Joe felt static piercing through his brain and throughout his ears.

He slid his trembling hand to grab the hilt of his blade, yanking it from between Don's ribs with a crumbling expression upon his face. Where the stab wound remained open, Joe rested his hand on its opening and let the blood seep onto his skin. He lowered them to graze the rest of Don's torso, creating an up and down rhythm almost as if to comfort him. He felt a dread in his stomach nothing in his life had ever compared to; he had killed numerous times before this, and for pettier reasons. But the understanding of what he had just done settled upon him like the smothering embrace of a rotting being. Joe lost any remaining thoughts in his mind as small, breaking moans passed the pursing lips of Don.

Don's body felt washed by shades of baby blue. His eyed fixated on an empty and quickly fading horizon. The right side of his body held a sensation that reminded him of familiarity; dripping water and warm waves caressing his flesh. Though this time, the sea seemed to be accompanied by rainfall. Don couldn't muster the strength to look up, let alone turn his head, but he felt warm droplets fall upon his hair. The fog that began swallowing his mind didn't allow him to understand where the water's source was coming from. They dropped rapidly now, dripping enough so that they slid across his own cheeks; they made up for the lack of his own tears. The air that was becoming increasingly hard to keep in his grasp now filled with a tune, a rhythm similar to those he practiced when dancing.

"Je suis désolé, je suis vraiment désolé, oh..."

Don couldn't understand the words, couldn't sing along to the beautiful tune that seemed to hail from Heaven itself. It broke his heart a bit, seeing that one of his greatest attributes was his ethereal singing voice. But the words soothed his soul, and held this wonderous ability to make his eyes feel comfortable closing.

"Oh, mon Dieu... Oh, mon Dieu, pardonne-moi... Pardonne-lui aussi..." Joe heaved, his hands clutching the bloodied skin of Don's torso. His body shook with a might that caused Don's own body to tremor along with his.

Don wished he knew what those words meant. Don wished he could hear the voice sing in his ears forever, let the melody echo throughout the chambers of his fading mind every second of every waking moment. Don's face fell cold, and his body felt as if it was losing its occupation; but fear never crossed his mind when his vision finally began to fade. He loved the hands running up and down his body, loved the warmth cascading against his side, loved the song, he loved this moment. He let his breath soften and slip from his mind's priorities, and now focused on shutting his eyes to rest.

The last thing Don truly felt was the slipping of beads across his collar bones.

-----

Joe removed the rosary from around Don's neck and let its wooden roses slide into a pile inside his unused pocket. He vowed that the blade would make no contact with the necklace.

Joe couldn't and didn't think as he laid the body of his sweet friend down to rest away from his own. He looked once more into the drained yet softened features of Don's face; his lips looked soft against his chin, and his brows no longer furrowed in such a dreadful way. Joe stood for moments, spending minutes staring down at the body now devoid of life on the floor. The worst sight of the entire night was the wound beneath the right side of Don's chest. And even upon staring at it, running his eyes over it again and again, Joe just couldn't think deeper about it.

He turned his back from the death that loomed behind him and exited through the double doors of the room. Joe stalked off into the night, letting the world's air solidify the agonizing tears that stained his cheeks, down to his neck.

END !! thanks 4 reading if u did and thank u 2 anybody who sees this !! now im gonna go ahead and pass out it's 11:45 PM and im sick 🩷

#punch out!! wii #punch out wii #punch out #punch out!!#don flamenco #glass joe #punch out monster hunter au #dewdlebug #my writingz #wow this took like multiple years off my life but ill b damned if i didnt say that i am so genuinely proud and in love with the art for thi #i dont want 2 b conceited dont get it wrong but omg .. i captured exactly what i wanted to down to the lighting that i had to fight with ir #but u know how it be !!#anyhow wow i really hope anybody who likes Don likes this but also u all have permission to throw rocks at me cuz this HURT to conceive bro

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villainessprefect · 1 year

Text

Anonymous asked: hello!! may i request a fic with malleus x gn!reader pls? this is too specific since im having a bad day sooo my request is where reader is having a bad day since they found out their 'friends' talking sh*t behind their back and they didnt attend the whole class for the whole day and ignoring everyone esp malleus (bc reader want some alone time) so at night time, malleus found reader and just comfort them? thank you, have a good day! :)

hello! I hope this fic brings you some comfort!! don't let those types of friends get you down!

title: turn to me

summary: Your latest ‘friends’ turn out to be trash. Their words lead you down a terrible descent. At least someone is willing to reach out to you.

ship: Malleus x gn!reader

word count: 2,167

note: does this need a trigger warning for like. self-loathing?? idk

Read on AO3

You should have known from the start that it would end this way. In this hellish world, you would always be an outcast, the odd one out, the magicless one. No matter how hard you tried to fit in, no matter what you did, you were not part of this world.

But is it so wrong to hope? To think that maybe, just maybe, you could be a part of this world if only for a moment.

Perhaps you were just foolish. Naive. All you wanted was to belong somewhere. Taking a chance to break from your usual friend group had been your own undoing. You should have listened to their warnings and stayed with them. They know these people better than you do. After all, they're just like them, aren't they?

You didn't listen. You let that glimmer of hope lead you down the wrong path. All you wanted was a normal school life. With that, you could believe that you were normal.

"Aren't you tired of hanging around with that magicless Prefect yet? It's so damn boring. We can't do anything with them around!" One complained.

"Just a little longer, we can't lose our gopher just yet." Another says.

"Hey! Maybe we should start calling them our best friend. You think they'll like that?" He laughs. Loud. "I bet they'd think they're part of the group!"

"Man, not even they could be dumb enough to believe that. Although, you know what they say. No magic, no brains."

Vile gossip runs around your latest group of 'friends'. They continue to throw insults your way while unaware of your presence. At some point, you begin to tune out what they're saying. Their voices grow smaller and smaller as you make a run for it, but you can still hear their voices echoing loud and clear in your mind.

You run home, or at least to the place you're forced to call home. The door to Ramshackle is forcibly pushed open, left ajar as you head straight to your room. Your bag and books drop to the ground, supplies scattering on the floor. A part of you thinks to pick them up, another disagrees- what did it matter anyway? It's not like your friends would come over.

Finding comfort in your bed is hard. It's not the best, not the softest, it barely does its job, but its all you have. At least this old thing wouldn't betray you. Hopefully. You don't want to jinx it and have your bed turn into a futon.

You take in a shaky breath and struggle to let the darkness consume you. You're not even tired, but your body aches, your chest stinging with every heartbeat. The longer you stay awake, the more your thoughts haunt you. And the last thing you want to do is let those bastards win.

Your phone catches you off guard. In your haste to hide away from the world, you forgot to toss that aside along with your bag. All you do is dig the buzzing phone out of your pocket and turn it off, not even bothering to see who is blowing it up. Friends, new or old, you didn't want to speak to anyone. You couldn't.

With no more distractions, you lie in bed and succumb to your fate. Nasty thoughts poke at you, prodding at you and telling you how stupid you are. You wish you hadn't been so optimistic about branching out. You couldn't always rely on your usual group of friends, but at this point...it seemed like you had to.

It's impossible to reassure yourself that things are okay. They're not. You think how useless and stupid you are. And that...this is how things should have been from the start. People don't need you, you need them. You're unwanted and alone, and always will be for as long as you're in this world. And when you leave? It'll be like you were never here in the first place.

As the day draws on, you fall in and out of consciousness. You don't recall crying, but your pillow says otherwise. Your stomach craved food while feeling as if it couldn't hold down a single scrap. The only movement you willingly made was tossing back and forth for a more comfortable position.

Ramshackle is eerily quiet. The ghosts aren't hovering over you nor is Grim. The latter is probably with the others. It's fine. He's part of this world, you are not.

Something forces your body out of bed. You don't know what it is. Perhaps its an old habit that takes control of you. One that lets you meet with a dragon fae during the darker hours of the world. He doesn't always show up, and for once you pray he won't.

The cold air hits your body and you shiver. The night air that usually comforts you freezes you instead as you take a seat upon the steps of Ramshackle. The light of the moon reveals all to you. It's truly a beautiful night. One you wish you could enjoy.

A dark shadow looms over you. You don't bother lifting your gaze, merely staring down the legs that have blocked your view.

"Child of man," he starts. You don't move. "You were not at school today."

"Mhm."

"Are you feeling alright?" Malleus asks you. You can't bring yourself to speak. You don't want to have a conversation with him right now. Not with a tainted heart that's laced with the fear of betrayal. Surely he wouldn't be the same as that lot, would he?

No. Deep in your heart you know Malleus would never reach that low. He may be cheeky, but he's always been honest with you. If he wanted to end things with you, he would with the snap of his fingers. But you've always been special in his eyes. You're just...not in the mood to find that spark of hope again.

Your silence causes him to worry. The lack of acknowledgement does as well. Malleus looks forward to being beside you. Your conversations were always odd yet interesting. You never feared getting close to him, physically or otherwise. And your smile was worth waiting a whole century for. Having none of that tonight is a little upsetting. Not at you, but...for you? It's strange, difficult to put into words for him.

"Lilia once told me that silence can be hurtful and comforting, you just need to know when it's the right kind. You do not need to speak and if you wish for me to leave, simply...tell me." The last of his words comes out strained, forced. If his voice could break, you think it would have been heard then.

You take in a breath and decide his fate.

"You can stay."

You don't catch the way he lights up. How his eyes widen in surprise at your answer. His brief moment of joy doesn't last, but he finds it a blessing that you allow him to stay by your side.

Malleus takes a seat beside you. He sits closer to you compared to normal, but you don't mind. You didn't exactly pick the most spacious place to brood.

Having company after being alone all day is a little nice. His warmth helps keep some of those nasty thoughts away. Although you don't think that you really deserve this touch of kindness.

You still refuse to look at him and instead lift your gaze to the stars. You once heard that each star is a different world. With countless stars that fill the sky, that meant there were numerous worlds out there. And if a star went out, that meant the world was gone. It must have been a whimsical tale, yet now you wonder if it's true. Was your world a lost star? Is that why you're here now? Did the heavens think putting you here was better than meeting that fate?

You squeeze your body tightly.

"Malleus..." You breathe out his name, which catches him by surprise. It's unusual for you to not use the nickname you gave him. He makes no comment on it. Only watching and waiting for you to continue.

And when you face him, it hurts to see you.

Tears pricking at the corner of your eyes that are filled with nothing but pain. The sadness you bear is so heavy that he can see it. You look so lost and desperate. The friend he once knew is now broken.

"Do you ever think that...I'm worthless for not having magic?" You ask, pleading for an answer.

"No," he responds, quickly. There's a hint of anger in his eyes. He may not know who hurt you, but the question you posed gives him an idea as to how. "You are an extraordinary human in this world. If you wish to base worth off of magic, then one must do so knowing how to wield it. Even the strongest of mages can prove to be inferior to an amateur who only knows a single spell."

"But I don't know any," you respond. You hadn't meant to cut him off, but it was too late to stop now. "I'm not an amateur and I never will be. In this world, I'm not anything. Just a dumb human who thinks that there might be good in all the wrong places."

"You are not dumb." He responds and reaches out to take your hand in his. You're immediately met with his warmth. He doesn't use magic, but it feels like he cast a spell to soothe your body. "And anyone who says otherwise are the fools here. You have done plenty that others have not, without the use of magic. A hardworking and kind soul such as yourself is admirable. Your valor and resolve are truly commendable." He can't help but smirk. "Who else would dare to allow such weakness in front of me?"

You can't tell if his attempt at cheering you up is supposed to be good or not. It's fitting to come from him though. And it's just enough to make you crack a small smile.

"Only a fool would," you say with no pain in your voice. You can see the little annoyance in his eyes though, disliking at your self-loathing words. But, he allows a pass for the moment.

"Will you show your bravery by telling me what happened to you?"

You take in a breath and grip his hand. The pain from earlier is coming back, almost tenfold. It hurts the same as when you first heard those words spoken literally behind your back.

"Friends. Or I guess they're not friends anymore," you scoff. "I thought I could, you know, be a normal student with a group of friends and..." You shake your head, biting down on your lip.

"Spade and Trappola harmed you?"

"No! No! Not them!" You respond quickly. "Other, no-name, unimportant assholes," you huff out. At least that felt a little good to say, even if the insults were rather weak. "I thought I could befriend a few more people, so just in case...I won't have to be alone. But...that didn't work out."

A loud clap of thunder causes you to jump. Your hold on Malleus tightens as you instinctively huddle closer to him. You hadn't noticed the clear skies being overtaken by dark clouds, causing the night to grow darker. And after catching a flash of lightning, you feared that a storm might be coming.

"Those...not friends of yours," he spits out, as politely as he can. You can feel the anger seeping from his voice as he does his best to remain pleasant before you. "They are unwise for taking your company for granted. Your presence itself is a treasure they do not know the true value of. They are blinded by their own ignorance. If there is no one else that you can turn to, then you can always turn to me. I would never take your company for granted."

You feel a pang of guilt for your earlier thoughts. To even question that Malleus would do you harm- you'd really been a fool.

"Thanks," you whisper and let your head bump onto his shoulder. "I'm sorry for...not being in the best mood tonight. At least I know I can always count on you, Hornton," you chuckle.

Hearing that nickname brings a smile to his face. While the clouds still hover overhead, the sound of thunder and visions of lightning are no more. You release a breath that you'd been holding in and finally begin to relax.

While you know you've been keeping Malleus this whole time, you can't bear to let him go. Not yet. He shined a light upon you that you needed. And maybe, it wouldn't hurt to be a little self-indulgent.

"Can you stay a little bit longer?"

"Of course."

And just like that, the night sky is clear once more.

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia x reader #gn reader #twst x reader #twst #malleus draconia x you #diasmonia #request

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ruishusband · 14 days

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᧔ ˖ ࣪ 💋 ࣪ ⤹kiss the homies

⤷Rui Kamishiro and amab!reader are zesty AF. Just a silly thing sleep deprived me wrote!! NOT PROOF READ

Being Rui's best friend was amazing at first, but over time it became harder to just be friends.. you two would constantly flirt, trying to make the other blush. 'Its just a homie thing, guys flirt with other guys all the time as a joke' you swore, you SWORE you wouldn't get attached, that you wouldn't yearn for something so unattainable, but you did... the worst part? You didn't even regret it. Deep down you enjoyed imagining yourself holding his soft hands, kissing his face aggressively, resting your head against his chest as if it was a pillow... your thoughts consumed you, haunted you no matter what you tried to do to stop your feelings. But yet again, you didn't regret it.. you regret not regretting it, foolish you, using your heart rather than your brain...

You felt your chest burning up, it's so cold and yet you're so warm.. it was embarrassing you were overheating because of a crush. A faint notification sound, followed by more notifications, each getting louder and more aggressive. Your hand is slightly shaky and sweaty, but you presist to look at the multiple texts Rui spammed you. A faint giggle manages to escape your lips, a slight distraction from your previously overwhelming thoughts.

purple guy (theater kid edition): hi just finished practice lol, wanna meet up at the nearby cafe? lmk

Oh, that's right... he had practice. You felt bad for not coming to watch, even though Rui would always assure you that you didn't need to pressure yourself to go to every single practice. You replied quick, not wanting to make him wait any longer.

rizzmeister69: oh? my-my, THE Rui Kamishiro is asking me out? It's a date 😘 be there in 15 minutes

purple guy (theater kid edition): take your time my prince, no need to rush! I'll wait for you ;)

You chuckled, the voices in your head having a conflict of their own. 'God y/n pull yourself together you idiot! Stop getting so flustered over a text' 'OMGOMG OMG HE CALLED ME HIS PRINCE :3!!1!1!1'

You put on a somewhat lazy outfit, but you made sure to look at least somewhat presentable. You took your wallet, heading to the little cafe at the end of the street. You looked for Rui, and he wasn't there, which is ti be expected as the cafe was closer to your house than his. You took a seat, waiting a few minutes. You scrolled on your phone, mindlessly looking at tiktoks untill.. "My sincerest apologies, I didn't keep you waiting for too long, now did I darling~?" he took a seat beside you, slyly putting his hand on top of yours, rubbing circles in it. You had felt slightly sleepy these past few days, so his comforting touch made you yawn slightly. "Nah I've only been waiting for five minutes" you mumbled, slightly tired. "You should really be getting some more sleep, you know?" "Pfft, ironic considering thats coming from you" you tease, he faked being offended, playfully scoffing. You talked a lot, your feelings just became stronger.. fuck.. you were deeply in love with him.. "You okay? You zoned out, are you sure you want to talk, maybe you should sleep instead, it's fine honestly I don't mind-" you snapped out your thoughts as Ruis words hit you like a brick: "Hm? Oh- oh no! I, I'm sorry I just.. got lost in my thoughts I guess" he was about to speak, but the waitress came and took your orders, so he forgot what he was going to reply. You two kept glancing at eachother, awkwardly laughing when you both looked at eachother at the same time.

"Thanks for the date, pretty boy, I'll see you later" Rui winked at you, you forgot you joked about this being a date, so you just stood there dumbfounded.. he giggled, giving you a kiss on your nose. He left, but you stood there, shocked.. 'kissing your homies is normal, right?'

#⤷ಇ.sfw writing #gay mlm #mlm #mlm blog #mlm post #mlm yearning #male reader #amab reader #masc reader #transmasc reader #project sekai #pjsk #rui kamishiro #writing #mlm thoughts

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kaixserzz · 9 months

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Listening to Lost kitten by Metric makes me think about zandik and reader.

Your death was an untimely result of the carelessness of the akademiya, an accident is what the scholars called it, the sages seeing it as a minor inconvenience. zandik, however, saw it differently.

Zandik would see you everywhere, no matter where he went, he could hear you speak to him. his mind was playing tricks on him as a way to cope, wasn't it? he didn't care, as long as you stayed with him, there was no need to stress about hallucinations of the past. even if you weren't real, even if you were long gone, he still needed you.

Was it bad, that even after all these years, he still sees you in his room, in his laboratory, everywhere he goes? Probably.

You still live through his memory, through belief of what would be denial, you never left him.

Even if he sits here, alone and slaving away at his work, he can atleast enjoy the sounds of your presence.

god fucking DAMN it i was about to play league man. i was about to !!! but i HAD to open tumblr and see this!! damn it !! how DARE you put that in my head GRHAHGHGHHHH 😭😭😭 IM IN TEARS WRITING THIS FUCKKKK

it was as if it was only yesterday since the last time you were by your side.

for years, he had long forgotten the cause of your death. does it even matter? you were still with him, aren't you?

he has traveled all over the world, and yet everywhere he looks, he sees you. smiling brightly like the sun, laughing akin to the sounds of the wind chimes ringing through the gentle breeze of the wind, and you'd call for him, his name rolling off your tongue, so naturally it brings shivers down his spine.

you'd talk his ear off, like you used to. you'd ask him questions, you'd point out things that interest you, make jokes and even suggest on whatever he's working on.

but he never answers you, or turn to you whenever you call for him.

he knew it wasn't real. that you were gone, and that his madness was slowly, and will eventually, consume him, along with his grief. he still hasn't moved on, hasn't he? how could he? you didn't even say goodbye to him.

all he saw was your body on the ground, with a white blanket covering your body.

he never went to your funeral, nor ever visited your grave.

he was a harbinger, and yet he was afraid. afraid of reality.

because even if you weren't real, that his mind was merely playing tricks on himself, he finds comfort in your presence. he longs to be with you again, to be with the real, you. alive, well, and happy.

but he only had the ghosts of your shared past. a hallucination. an illusion of what once were.

"come to bed," you voiced worriedly, watching him tinker on a machine for far too long. "you haven't slept in days." your hand reached out for him, to touch him, to convince him, but the illusion can only do much.

what's the point of going to bed when you aren't there next to him? to hold him? to kiss him like you'd always do? to sleep beside him, so he could wake up, and see you first thing in the morning?

he clings to you, he desperately hangs on to what lingers in his withering mind, but it could never compare to the warmth you gave. never compare to the love you shared once.

it wasn't the same. it will never be the same.

you are dead.

and so is he.

guys when i told yall give me brain rots i didn't mean angst (dw anon, i love your brain rot and its so. HUDJKNSALDA grahhh 😭😭😭)

#˚₊໒🔪꒱kai writes₊˚#╰┈➤ il dottore #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #genshin impact

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whositmcwhatsit · 10 months

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An Enjoyable Slide to Oblivion

Chapter 8 A/N Written using the prompt: "You're staring." So, this one got a bit angry and a bit sad, which I guess is in keeping with the time. Warnings for implied drug use, so much swearing, little bit of smut, and a really, really bad temper?

Thank you to @thatbanditqueen as ever for reading and persuading me to post this against my better judgement. Previous chapter: Chapter 7

Chancy did not wake feeling as though she had regained her energy. Saying that, it was just four and half hours later when the telephone beside the bed began trilling. The jangle shattered her opaque sleep into thousands of tiny shards and she lay reeling on the bed, trying to understand what was happening.

When her chemically numbed mind finally slid the pieces of information together like a Rubik’s cube, the phone abruptly stopped.

Staring at the tiles on the ceiling, she noticed that one of them had crumbled away slightly at the corner. How did that even happen? What could have caused friction or disturbance up there? Rats, she decided, the hotel was probably overrun with rats. Her brain instantly embraced this as a certainty and she sprang up into a seated position as if she was operated by a hinge, only for her head to protest this movement by making her feel as though she had performed a loop-de-loop in a fighter plane.

With trembling limbs, she manoeuvred herself to the edge of the bed feeling as though she weighed a thousand pounds, but also like she might float away at the same time. Just as she was contemplating trying to stand, the phone began its assault again. She glanced hurriedly over her shoulder at Elvis, who was sprawled across the mattress. The telephone was about a foot from his head, but he didn’t stir.

Chancy was frozen by indecision. Of course, she didn’t want Elvis to be woken as she had been, so she should have picked up the phone. However, she also knew that the phone in his room only rang if the caller knew the fake name that he was registered under and the codeword that Joe circulated to those who needed it. That meant that the caller was either a member of the group they were travelling with, which was unlikely as they all knew that Elvis would not be awake, or it was someone not on the tour that was close enough to him that he would want them to have a direct line to him. Chancy did not want to answer the phone to his ex-wife or another girlfriend. Even contemplating how awkward that would be made her face flush hot.

Avoidance was the key, she decided. She showered and changed into a pair of jeans and a sweater, shoving aside the masses of plastic covered clothing she had been bought the night before in order to find her ordinary clothes. She put on minimal make-up and combed her hair, smiling at the reflection in the mirror. She still felt like she was suffering from the world’s worst hangover- the balls of her feet even ached- but she looked like herself again.

It was a mistake to look back at the bed before she left the room. Elvis had rolled onto his side, his hand stretched out against her pillow and his face looked soft and vulnerable. The power of the drive to stay by his side was terrifying.

It felt like an intrinsic need to protect him, watch over him, and it made absolutely no sense. She wasn’t his mother or his bodyguard and he wasn’t a helpless baby. She knew this intellectually, but the griping in her stomach as she walked to the door and the pricking sense of unease was real and undeniable and it infuriated her. She stoked that anger, using it as a sword to cut the binds of obligation. Elvis was manipulating her somehow, she told herself, in that magical way he had, trying to get her to stay and become consumed by his idea of who she should be.

On her way out, she let the man sitting outside her door- a new guy she didn’t know very well- know that she was just going across the street to the diner she had spotted out of the car window yesterday. He looked at her a little too long as if he wasn’t quite sure who she was either. That seemed to bode well.

The pancakes at the diner were subpar, but the coffee wasn’t too bad. She had three cups while she flicked through the newspaper and caught up on the Watergate drama. She checked her horoscope- “Beware of those with hidden intentions. Trouble is on the horizon, but you can avert it if you ask for help from a friend”.

The entertainment section was plastered with articles and pictures and blind rumours about what had happened on the set of ‘The Way We Were’. She recalled briefly meeting Barbra in Las Vegas a few years before. Elvis had gone backstage to congratulate her on her opening. It had been strange and uncomfortable from what Chancy could remember, having two such huge stars in a confined room meant very little space and oxygen for the ordinary people. Lucky girl for getting to kiss Robert Redford though.

Chancy’s stomach lurched as she turned the page to be faced with a grainy photo of Elvis belting one of his songs into a microphone. The photo was a couple of years old, but the headline was about his show the night before. Feeling like she was about to be caught, though by whom she wasn’t quite sure, her eyes sped across the type.

There was the usual spiel about Elvis’s fame and position in popular culture, his existence as a phenomenon rather than simply an entertainer, his effect on audiences… Then the jabs started. The first one was odd, noting that the audiences were no longer solely comprised of hysterical teenage girls, making it sound like a weakness to maintain adoration from people as they grew and aged as well as attract new fans. The writer then went on to observe that Elvis was older than he had been when he first rose to fame nearly twenty years before. Get the man a damn Pulitzer. Her blood truly began to boil though, when he observed that Elvis had slowed down a lot since then too and was beginning to look ‘paunchy’. He delivered one final poke of the knife by noting that the fans’ devotion did not seem to diminish as his waistline increased.

Glancing around the diner, she spread her palm over the page and then grabbed the whole thing in her clawed hand and screwed it up into a ball. The rage sat hot and impotent in her belly, and she felt uneasy about how pervasive and fierce it was.

Back in the foyer of the hotel, she raised a hand to wave to Sonny standing by the elevator but soon dropped it along with her smile when she registered the look on his face. "You're staring. Everything okay?"

“Where have you been?” he asked tightly as she reached him.

“The diner over the way. I told the new guy.”

“You don’t tell him shit, he don’t know his ass from his elbow.”

“Well, one day you guys might want to let me know these rules,” she replied, following him into the elevator. “What’s the matter?”

“Priscilla called.”

Chancy nodded, knowing she was right to listen to her intuition and not answer the phone.

“Okay. And?”

“I think Lisa got into trouble at school. Cilla and Elvis really got into it- I guess it must have been bad, because she wouldn’t normally call so early…”

Chancy could hear him as soon as she got off the elevator, though the actual words were largely muffled except for the curse words he was taking the care to enunciate especially clearly. A few people from the show were standing around in the hallway looking tense.

“Joe’s talking about calling the doctor up to give him something to calm him down,” Sonny said under his breath. “He’s lost it.”

Pushing open the door, Chancy had about three seconds to react before a lamp flew in their direction. She tugged the door back towards herself as a shield, flinching at the force with which the metal base thumped into the hollow wood.

Jerry yanked the door out of her hand as he rushed across to check she was okay.

“I’m fine,” she murmured, eyes on the pacing form tearing through the hotel room rather than the one in front of her. Red was standing on the other side of the room, arms folded and shoulders squared as he quietly urged Elvis to sit down so that they could talk it through properly and figure out a solution to the problem.

“Only one solution,” Elvis returned, quieter but still manic. “Only one solution, I will take that bitch to fucking court, so help me. Her and that limp-dick fucking traitor she’s screwing and I will tell them- I’ll tell the whole fucking world- what a lying, conniving cunt she is. Taking my family from me, my baby! Who the fuck does she think she is, huh?!”

Chancy didn’t recognise the wild haired monster spewing such vile things in front of her. She thought about the sweet boy that she had dated, had loved, and imagined him standing beside her looking on in horror at what he was saying about the mother of his child.

“I think everyone said things they didn’t mean,” Red intoned impassively, trying to balance him out, trying to tug him down. “I think once she’s had time to calm down an’ you’ve calmed down, you can talk it out and straighten everything out.”

“I can call Joanie,” Joe put in, talking of his own ex-wife who was friends with Priscilla, “get her to go over and talk to her.”

“I give her everything, man, every- fucking- thing she asks for. She wanted to leave, wanted her own place, and I gave her that. She wanted to move my child to California and I weren’t happy about it, didn’t want it, but I didn’t stand in her way. I paid her what she asked for. I- She got everything and I got the fuckin’ scraps and now she even wants to take that away from me!” He roared, a sound so animalistic and full of rage that even Red, as broad, weary and unimpressed as any man could be, flinched.

“She’ll come round, man,” Sonny put in over Chancy’s shoulder. “You’ll figure it out.”

Elvis didn’t want to hear it, couldn’t hear it. He shuddered like just the sound of their voices disgusted him.

“You just don’t get it,” he spat. “None of you motherfuckers understand, you don’t get how this is tearing me up inside. You don’t even give a shit!” Without another word, he stormed off to the bathroom and slammed the door so hard that a picture fell from an adjacent wall.

The roomful of men stood in silence for a beat, looking at each other and then at their feet.

“Hotel manager’s on his way,” Dick informed them from the corridor. “He’s received some complaints.”

“I’ll deal with it,” Joe sighed. “Jerry, Lamar, can you put the room to rights? Write a list of anything that can’t be salvaged and I’ll go through it later.”

Lamar unpeeled himself from the wall by the bed and bent to pick up the telephone from the floor.

“You sure you’re okay?” Jerry asked Chancy, crouching down at her feet to take care of the lamp.

“Yeah, it got the door not me,” she replied.

“Those were some good fuckin’ reflexes,” Sonny murmured, patting her on the shoulder. Chancy tried to pretend to smile, but it didn’t really take.

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

“Lisa got sent home from school for mouthing off to the teacher and apparently gave Priscilla some too when she tried to deal with her. So Priscilla said she can’t come out and see the last couple of shows.”

“She’s punishing her by stopping her from seeing her daddy?” Chancy asked, sure that she had misunderstood.

“Yup, Ice Queen strikes again,” Lamar remarked.

“Hey now,” Jerry murmured.

“I said what I said,” Lamar shot back.

“Someone needs to check on him,” Red said pointedly, stopping by the doorway where they were huddled. And if there had been any chance of his words being misconstrued, the pointed way he was staring at Chancy with his eyebrows raised left no room for doubt.

“Aw, give him a minute to cool down,” Charlie put in, pouring himself a drink from the minibar.

“We know how he cools down, man,” Red returned. “A minute is too damn long.”

Chancy nodded and crossed quickly to the bathroom, pressing her ear to the door. She knocked tentatively.

“Baby, it’s me.” She looked to the group of men standing at the doorway watching her and hated the performance. She turned, put her back to them, and rapped on the door harder.

“Elvis, let me in please.” She put iron in to her voice, picturing her grandmother, her mother, Mrs Presley, her sister, all the tough women in her life. She heard the lock being turned and nodded to herself, letting out the breath she had been holding.

Elvis was standing over the sink, his hands splayed on the counter as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Closing the door behind herself, she watched his jaw muscle flex as he visibly ground his teeth. Her eyes lowered to the black case on the counter, a couple of the drawers not quite pushed all the way back in.

“Honey,” she started, reaching out a hand, but she stumbled back when he swiped his arm and gestured for her to stay where she was.

“Where were you?” He was hoarse, she wondered how long he had been ranting.

“Across the street at the diner. I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t think you’d be awake for hours.”

“Why’s she doing this to me, Cha-Cha?” His head dropped as his voice all but disappeared. “I know I wasn’t a good husband to her, I know that, but I’ve tried so hard… I- That child is the only thing that matters to me and she knows that.”

“For what it’s worth, I think she’ll change her mind, like Red said, when she calms down. Sounds like things got real heated between them and she went for the only thing she knew that would get through to Lisa.”

“Would you talk to her? Make her see what this is doing to me? Please?”

Chancy stared at his bloodshot eyes pleading with her from beneath his lowered brow and she sighed thickly. Her gorge rose as she envisioned it, those dry, overcooked diner pancakes catching in her throat.

“I don’t know that it would do any good, darlin’. We haven’t spoken in… forever. And what could I say to her? I don’t have any kids, I’d be talking out of my hat. What about Patsy or Grandma? She’d be more likely to listen to them. I can call and ask them to call her?” He nodded, levering his arms down so that he was propped up on his elbows rather than his hands.

“I just…” He shook his head slightly. “I just don’t know what I’d do without her.” His words slurred and thickened, fading into nothing.

“I know, sweetheart, but it won’t come to that.” She tried stepping forward again, watchful for any sign from him that he didn’t want her near. He turned foggily as she brushed against his side and stumbled, struggling to maintain his balance. She grabbed him as he wrapped his arms around her. Oh so gradually, they sank down, Chancy using all her strength to slow their fall.

“It’s okay, s’okay, s’okay,” Elvis murmured softly, like she was the one who was dropping and he was taking care of her.

As soon as her butt hit the floor, Chancy swallowed down her grief and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She wanted to cry, her lips were trembling and her throat ached with unshed tears, even her skin was icy cold with pain, but she was sure that if she started she would never stop. And he needed her. He needed so much.

Elvis hummed to himself before quietly singing in a falsetto. Chancy blinked as she recognised ‘Walk like a man’ by Frankie Valli.

“You know,” he mumbled, “that was playing in the hospital when we were waiting for her to be born.” He snorted, resting his head on her shoulder. “This nurse came barrelling in and turned off the radio like hearing someone else’s song’d make me mad. And… And I remember thinking it was a sign. Ain’t no coincidences, there was more to it than met the eye. Things were about to change and I was gonna find out what kind of man I was.”

“Aren’t the lyrics about walking away from a girl that’s been doing him wrong?”

“Yeah,” he huffed. “Maybe should’ve listened closer to that part too.”

She took a moment just to breathe and assess the situation. They were on the floor in a hotel bathroom, which was not the most sanitary place in the world, but there was no more yelling or throwing things. Elvis was high, undoubtedly so and to the point where he could no longer stand, but he was talking largely coherently, at least to her attuned to thick Southern drawl ears. It could be worse. Could be better, but could be a lot worse too.

“So, wait, did the nurse think that you just, what, listen to yourself all the time? You have a jukebox with all your own records on it?” He started laughing and it was such a blessed sound that she did too.

“Yeah, and I walk round shooting out car radios and in stores…” He dissolved into uncontrollable giggles, dropping down until his head was in her lap.

“Disc jockeys hear that you’re coming in town and just-“ She made a record scratch noise and mimed tossing a record like a frisbee. “And play your latest single on a loop. Where do people get their crazy ideas?!”

“Goddamn tabloids and gossip magazines,” he sighed. His face creased as he burst into another fit, unable to even explain what had set him off. Whatever it was tickled him so much that he ended up gasping for breath, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Oh Lord!”

“Crazy boy,” she murmured affectionately, combing her fingers through his hair, working out the sleep knots. He hummed, fighting the giggles, and rolled so his face was turned towards her stomach.

With a sly smile, he lifted her sweater and stuck his head underneath. She shivered as she felt his lips brush against her rib cage. The scrape of his stubble tickled just above the waistband of her jeans and she couldn’t help the way her stomach muscles twitched beneath his kisses.

“Need a flashlight or a miner’s helmet in here.” His voice was muffled beneath the fabric and she felt a huff of warm air against her sternum as he laughed. She rolled her eyes and pulled back the neck of the sweater.

“Oh hey, fancy meeting you here!” she remarked brightly. “You big goof!”

There was a sharp rapping on the door and Chancy knew before she even heard the voice that it would be Red. It was his kind of knock.

“Hey boss, uh, everything all right in there?”

In response, Elvis reached up and grabbed hold of her sweater to make sure to keep it over his face. Chancy watched and also felt him pressing his whole face into the soft hollow of her stomach like a little kid’s attempt at hiding.

“Uh, everything’s fine!” she called out instead.

“Well, I, uh, just wanted to let you know that we were gonna go to lunch, unless you needed us for anything. Dave’ll be just outside the door and you can reach us down in the restaurant.”

“Okay, thank you, Red!”

“Yeah, uh, take it easy.”

The sound of the door clomping shut signalled their departure. After that brief intrusion from the real world, the humour ran right out of their situation. Once a couple of minutes had passed, Elvis pulled back from underneath her sweater and squinted around them.

“Uh, Cha-Cha, why’re we on the floor?” he asked in a bemused, childlike drawl. She blinked and a tiny, stupid tear sneaked out of the corner of her eye and trickled against her earlobe.

“You fell down, baby, don’t you remember?”

“No, I didn’t!” he muttered dismissively. He went to sit up, but it was clearly a struggle for him and she gave a helping hand where she could until he finally made it leaning back against the counter.

“Can you go check they’re all gone?” he asked quietly. She nodded, reaching up to grab hold of the edge of the sink and pull herself to her feet. Cautiously, she opened the door a crack and peered out.

“They’re all gone, honey. It’s just me and you.”

“’K. Then take those damn clothes off.” She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. “I bought you half a fuckin’ clothing store last night, woman, and you’re wearing jeans. Blue fuckin’ jeans!”

Whatever he had taken had stolen the fire right out of him along with his balance, and his rant was breathy and bemused rather than furious. She bit down to stop herself from smiling, not wanting to test the limits of this muted temper.

“I couldn’t wear an evening dress to a diner,” she pointed out. “I might have spilt syrup on it!”

“And what in the hell were you doing at a goddamn diner?!”

“Eating pancakes.”

“Motherf-” He pinched the bridge of his nose and peered with one eye open at her. “You are so lucky that I can’t get my ass off this floor right now, because you are asking for a whoopin’.”

“Because of my blue jeans?” she asked, leaning over onto the bed and shaking her butt in the direction of the bathroom. She clambered onto the bed, thinking about how soft and comfortable it was under her knees and considering whether she actually wanted to pivot from teasing him to suggesting they both take a nap, when there was a clatter and commotion behind her. The weight of him crashed into her and they both collapsed onto their backs.

“Ow,” she said finally, staring up again at that one tile with the crumbled corner.

“Serves you right,” he muttered.

“All right, all right,” she sighed. “If it bothers you that much…” She unbuttoned the fly of her jeans and wriggled them down her hips and legs, letting them drop from her feet, but when she stretched out on her side beside him, he looked pointedly at her sweater and raised his eyebrows. So, she sighed and tugged that over her head, trying to smooth down her hair with her hands.

“Don’t bother me none,” he murmured, rolling onto his side to face her. “Just don’t understand why you wanna dress that way. God made you a beautiful woman, honey, so be a beautiful woman. Don’t try and be something that you’re not and throw away what He gave you.”

“So, God doesn’t want me to wear blue jeans either?”

“Nope.” He smiled wryly, his lip curling. ”We’ve had some pretty in-depth conversations about it.”

“All those times I took you to church did nothing, did they,” she sighed.

“Woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman’s garment: for all that do so are abomination unto the Lord thy God.” He wrinkled his nose and gave her a smug smile.

“…Women should adorn themselves in modest apparel… not with braided hair or gold or pearls or costly array,” she countered. “If I can’t wear jeans, I also can’t wear jewellery or those fancy dresses.”

“Whoa, whoa, let’s not go crazy,” he replied softly.

“Don’t go crazy,” she echoed. “I’m sitting in my underwear in bed with Elvis Presley arguing bible verse. I think we passed a ‘Welcome to Crazytown’ sign quite a way down the road…”

“Honey, I live in Crazytown.”

“Yeah, you are pretty much the Mayor of Crazytown,” she agreed.

“You ain’t supposed to agree!” He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her down onto him.

“Well, you don’t want me to lie, do you?!” She kissed him, smiling into it as his warm arms encircled her.

“First you insult me and then you kiss me, I see how it is,” he mumbled, opening his mouth, and nipping at her bottom lip. She deepened the kiss, wanting to draw him in, wanting to break through to him, to meld them both together so that no one else, not even spiteful reporters or angry ex-wives could cause them pain again.

He cupped her jaw as he returned her kisses, kneading his soft lips against her like she was fragile. This would have been endearing and lovely any other day, but today gentle and sensitive was not what she was looking for. She hooked her arms under his, digging her fingers into his shoulders and pushed in tighter. He grunted beneath her, exhaling sharply as she rocked into his soft belly.

“Hey, slow down, baby, ain’t a race,” he mumbled. He gently but firmly pushed her back, supporting her neck as she tipped back onto the mattress.

“I just want to be close to you,” she said quietly, feeling her cheeks heat up as she stared intently over his shoulder.

“I know what you need,” he said, his tone teasing. He pulled her in tight so that her side was pressed against his front. She could feel the rise and full of his breathing against her rib cage. And then his hand trailed down to her new white satin panties, fingertips running across the front of them appreciatively. She shivered.

Biting his lip, he slipped his hand under the elastic, fingers sliding slowly between her folds. Even as she melted, he let out a soft, breathy moan, pressing his lips to her jaw, his forehead to her temple, like he had to be in contact with her in as many places as possible.

“Damn, like the fires of hell down there,” he remarked, fingers slipping and gliding as if he was writing his damn autograph. She felt as though he was showing attention to every part except for the bundle of nerves just begging to be explored. “You been burning for me, baby?”

“Mmm hmm,” she managed, jutting her hip slightly to surreptitiously move his hand. In response, he inched slightly further away because he was an ass and a control freak.

“Uh uh, in your patience possess ye your souls, honey.”

“No more… Bible,” she pleaded. He pretended to be shocked at such a thing coming from her good, Christian mouth, but finally took pity on her and kneaded her clit with the pad of his thumb. Her leg spasmed as her nerve-endings exploded with sensation. Elvis draped himself over her side, slinging a leg over hers, his face pressed against hers like he was escorting her on the journey instead of presiding over it. She felt his pillowy lips press against her cheekbone as he slipped a finger inside her, the ticklish drag drawing out a moan.

“I got you, baby, I got you,” he cooed, as she reached up and grasped his shoulder. He set an inexorable pace, his shallow breaths and occasional moans in her ear doing just as much to send her over the edge as his fingers. As the crescendo built, she turned her face and sought out his lips, crying out into his mouth as she came.

When she opened her eyes, she found his still closed, a faint line of concentration between his dark brows. It made it difficult for her to pull away, even as she needed to in order to ground herself. She frowned ruefully when she noticed three thin red lines running from his cheek down to his jaw, the blood already dried on the reddened skin around them. She reached up to touch, realising that her fingers lined up perfectly. Elvis winced slightly, finally opening his eyes.

“You’ve scratched yourself, darlin’,” she murmured.

“S’probably old,” he murmured. “From the show.”

“No, it’s been bleeding.” She rose and grabbed a tissue from the bedside table, trotting off to the bathroom to wet it before dabbing the dried red beads away.

After some careful suggestion and cajoling, she finally managed to get him to agree to take a shower, promising that she would have breakfast waiting for him when he returned. She had to help him into the bathroom, though he seemed steadier on his feet than he had before.

“I’m going to call down for room service,” she told him emphatically as he seemed to change his mind and started to follow her back out of the bathroom. “But you need to get washed up, baby. Be good now.”

“Don’t shut the door,” he garbled back quickly, all the words running into each other.

“Okay, I won’t.” She left it open a crack and walked to the phone, feeling disquieted and afraid, though why she couldn’t pick out. She discovered that when Lamar had picked up the phone he hadn’t quite put the receiver properly back on the hook.

It wasn’t until Chancy started giving Elvis’s breakfast order to the room service attendant that she finally heard the shower turn on, as if he had been waiting to check that she was doing as she promised. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Thanks to the sister wives:

@ellie-24, @be-my-ally, @vintageshanny, @from-memphis-with-love, @missmaywemeetagain Tag List: @richardslady121, @dkayfixates, @c-rosenn, @fallinlovewithurlove, @notstefaniepresley, @heartbrake-hotel , @freudianslumber, @bbrtt777, @18lkpeters, @prompted-wordsmith, @literally-just-elvis-fics, @eliseinmemphis, @lookingforrainbows, @stylespresleyhearted, @amydarcimarie, @returntopresley, @savedrebelcreation,

#elvis presley #70s elvis #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis x oc #elvis presley fanfiction #an enjoyable slide to oblivion #whositmcwhatsit

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tripleyeeet · 4 months

Text

SWEETER THAN DEATH

SUMMARY: The absorption of a curse has always been disgusting and lonely. Well, at least until Gojo showed up.

PAIRING: Geto Suguru & Gojo Satoru

WORD COUNT: 2,244

WARNINGS: Brief descriptions of vomiting, angst, Geto POV, my own silly headcanons about Geto's connection to curses. :)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, I saw this headcanon and my JJK brain rot grew three sizes in the span of a minute, so I made this. Also, knowing me I'm probably going to get consumed by these two so if you want to be tagged in future JJK stuff just let me know!

MASTERLIST

The flavour is revolting. A combination of putrid acidity and rotten flesh —it’s the kind of taste that would churn even the strongest of stomachs, resulting in Geto himself struggling to suppress it.

As he stands alongside Gojo, imagining the process of its inevitable digestion, he still can’t manage to do it in front of people. Fearing that they might judge his lack of composure each time he has to force the cursed sphere down, he merely pockets it instead. Muttering something along the lines of I’ll save it for when I’m hungry at the same time Gojo stretches his spine, acting none the wiser.

“What do they taste like anyway?”

They taste like death, he wants to say, like a decomposed corpse that’s expelled its insides or a pile of vomit left out in the sun. Instead, though, he just shrugs and tells him they’re flavourless. An empty vessel that fills him up but fails to provide the enjoyment of actually eating a proper meal.

An answer that Gojo thankfully accepts with a nod before moving on—both of them walking down the street as he starts yammering on about whatever topic of interest he’s deemed exciting enough to share. Forever failing to catch on to the fact that all Geto wants is some peace and quiet as they make their way back to campus.

This time it’s movies. Specifically Western ones. None of which Geto has seen or has any interest in, considering all he can think about is the curse that rests against his palm. Specifically how it causes his skin to itch with need despite wanting nothing more than to toss it as far as he can so that he doesn’t have to experience it slipping down his throat.

He’s still not entirely sure why it happens but after a curse has been exorcized it’s as if this connection forms inside his brain. One that requires him to swallow the damned thing as quickly as possible, assuming there’s some sort of time limit. As if he doesn't, something bad might happen. So much so that, even now, even though it’s only been a few minutes since he initially got rid of it, he can feel it calling out to him in the back of his mind. Begging for him to eat —screaming at him to absorb its contents until suddenly they find themselves in the heart of Kyoto.

At which point Geto can hardly contain the temptation. Palming the sphere with tightened fingers, it’s as if he can feel the curse inside pressing against the outer walls. Its voice echoing overtop of whatever Gojo’s saying now. Forcing him to close his eyes and breathe as he digs his nails into his own flesh, forcing his hands to his sides rather than inside the pockets of his pants.

“It looks so good! We should definitely see it when it comes out!” Gojo practically yells —most likely still talking about movies, prompting Geto to press his lips into a false smile and nod.

Something he does quite often these days thanks to the amount of missions they’ve been going on.

“Do you have a favourite?”

In response, he blinks, trying to force himself to return to the conversation. To seem like he’s present and calm rather than bursting at the seams with fear. “Hm?”

“Movie, Suguru!” Gojo chastises, rolling his eyes at Geto’s lack of attention as he shoves his arm. “Weren’t you listening?”

“Course.”

“Liar!”

This time Geto rolls his eyes. Unable to come up with a clever rebuttal thanks to the curse’s desire to be consumed as quickly as possible.

“I swear, you’re always elsewhere.”

“What do you mean?”

“That head of yours.” Before he can process what Gojo is doing he feels his index finger pressed against his forehead, pushing him backwards roughly. Forcing Geto to grunt at the impact before swatting away his hand. “It’s got you distracted.”

“I’m not distracted.”

“Then what’s my new favourite movie?”

Again, Geto fails to come up with a response, resulting in the humiliated feeling of Gojo Satoru being right. A feeling so utterly embarrassing that for a moment he forgets that he should be excusing himself to feed. To give in to the pressure of the curse’s voice penetrating every corner of his mind. To force the rotting flavour down his throat so that he can once again feel nothing.

It takes a while, but eventually, when there’s a pause in Gojo’s one-sided conversation, he lies and says he has to go to the bathroom. Another excuse his friend accepts without question, pulling out his phone while Geto walks a block back before dipping into the nearest alleyway. Completely unaware of the shaking hands that pull the curse out of Geto’s pants pocket.

EAT ME. EAAAT ME.

By the time he’s out of sight, the voice is borderline hysteric as it sits in his hand. Causing him to narrow his eyes in annoyance, almost immediately he raises the sphere to his mouth while clearing his throat, preparing the space with reluctant thoughts. Wishing just once he can find it in himself to consume without struggle. To taste without the urge to vomit. To feel, just this once, like his ability is more than just a fucking curse.

Swallowing hard, he does his best to imagine something else in his mouth. Dorayaki, cheesecake —hell even those awful black sesame cookies his mom used to make when he was a kid. Anything to distract himself from the truth as he slips the curse between his lips, immediately gagging when the acrid taste first hits his tongue.

He isn’t sure why but every time feels worse than the last. As if the continual ingestion of these creatures is somehow rotting him from the inside out. Consuming his quality of life each time he’s forced to absorb it.

Which is ultimately an assumption he thinks about often. Considering that’s all he’s become lately, the idea that he’s been deemed as nothing more than some glorified maid being sent out to clean up messes really pisses him off. Especially because he knows that despite being an equal level to Gojo, the only reason he’s allowed to tag along is because everyone knows he’s a liability. A potential threat they might need to subdue in the future.

Deep down, he knows he’s one wrong thought away from being subdued. After exorcising and absorbing over and over and over again, he can feel the madness slipping through. All the questions of whether or not it’s worth it to continue running rampant through his thoughts as he inevitably spits the curse out, heavily breathing through the rancid taste of failure yet again.

Under his breath, he swears and roughly grips the curse feeling his limbs begin to twitch —the angered voice returning before he can even think to suppress it.

EATMEEATMEEATMEEATME!

And all he wants is to listen. To grant the voice it's wish so that he may get his. But at the back of his mind, all he can think about is death. How it lingers against his taste buds, filling every crevice of his mouth with the kind of flavour he’d hardly wish upon his worst enemy. How it causes his thoughts to shift to a world where curses no longer exist. A world where he can finally live and breathe and—

“Suguru?”

He’s on his knees panting through the pain. Still gripping onto the sphere, instead of raised into the air it’s wedged between the concrete and his palm. Becoming more and more pressurized the longer Geto stares at Gojo’s frame, realizing he’s been had. That the illusion of his strength has been reduced to weakness in a matter of seconds.

A fact that makes him wish the taste inside his mouth was real. That instead of death on his tongue there was instead death in his heart. In his stomach and his lungs —spreading throughout his system in a path that would eventually lead to nothing but darkness.

Kneeling on the ground, he wishes he were dead instead of staring into the bluest eyes he’s ever seen, watching them narrow with worry. Seeing them twist and turn into shapes filled with panic and confusion and pity until they’re sitting directly in front of him.

“What’s wrong?”

For a while, he doesn’t respond. Instead, he only lowers his head and closes his eyes, allowing the breath of his lungs to filter through his tainted throat. Desperately attempting to coat it in a layer of something other than the leftover flavour of the curse until he’s able to look at Gojo, muttering out a pained bad.

“Bad?”

He nods his head, watching Gojo glance around the alley. Paying no mind to the curse in his hand until eventually it clicks and all he can do is stare. Focusing on the way Geto’s fingers angrily grip the sphere. Most likely wondering why he’s spent all his time lying about something so trivial as taste.

“I thought you said they don’t taste like anything.”

Despite everything, all Geto does is laugh darkly, shaking his head. Trying to act as calmly as possible even though the curse's voice is fully ripping its way through his mind now.

“Guess I really am a liar.”

“Do they always taste bad?” Gojo asks, reverting the subject to its original topic. Prompting Geto to wonder why he cares to question an answer that’s so obviously right in front of him in the first place.

Because sure, Gojo’s always been a bit ignorant of these kinds of things, deeming himself too important not to be given exactly what he wants regardless of how easy it is. But he’s never acted like that with him. At least, not in such a personal way. Not in a way that could result in some sort of crossed boundary.

So, it throws him off. As he looks back up, watching Gojo’s hand tentatively rise to cup his cheek. How his thumb shifts to stroke the highest point of his bone structure before brushing away the loose hairs that have fallen in front of his face. How somehow the tenderness of his touch feels like the most painful thing he’s ever experienced, unaware of whether his actions are the result of pity or not.

Which is why he brushes him off. Throwing his arm in the way of his friend’s lingering hand, he can’t help but groan at the sudden lack of contact as he falls back. His back crashing against the brick wall behind him as he glares into Gojo’s eyes.

As it happens, Gojo jumps at the sudden movement but doesn’t do anything to stop it. Instead, merely allowing Geto to stir in his anger as he hugs the curse against his chest, trying not to cry.

Because despite the strength he manages to exude each time he stands alongside Gojo, deep down he always feels this weak. As he blinks back tears, hearing the repetitive chant of the curse in his hands —feeling the madness it inflicts as Gojo inches a bit closer, telling him that he’s okay in such a contradictive way— all he can do is sit. And stare. Attempting to calm himself down as Gojo shoves a hand into his pocket, eventually producing a closed fist.

“Here.”

Almost immediately, Geto looks at him with confusion. The kind of look that results in Gojo scoffing in annoyance and opening his palm to reveal a piece of candy.

��Listen, I don’t know if it’ll help but—“

“I’m fine.”

“Sure, okay… but maybe it’ll make it easier.”

He wants to tell him that it won’t. That no matter how hard he tries to get rid of the taste that remains long after he’s consumed a curse, it’s always there. Sitting in the farthest corners of his body, waiting for their chance to become present once again. Waiting to make him feel disgusting and weak and—

“Stop being so prideful and take the damn candy, Suguru.”

Before he can deny him again Gojo grabs one of his hands and places it in the centre. Keeping it locked lightly around Geto’s wrist as the two of them continue to stare, wondering what the other’s thinking. Both of them trying to find the best way to go about this vulnerable moment they’ve just shared until Gojo lets him go.

At which point Geto feels that tinge of pain again. The one where he isn’t sure why his friend is doing this. Why, instead of chastising him for a weakness he’s repeatedly lied about, he’s offering support. Why he’s sitting there, allowing him to sift in the screams of this spherical curse for as long as he needs.

“It gets worse every time,” he eventually tells him. Unable to hold back the way his voice breaks through each syllable. A sound that further paints just how weak he is at this moment as Gojo sighs.

“What does it taste like?”

“Death.”

“Death?”

He nods just as Gojo starts to look around, eventually producing a small grin that leaves Geto confused all over again, watching him reach out to touch his head again.

“Guess we’ll need to get you something sweeter then,” his friend suggests, and despite knowing that still probably won’t help, Geto merely nods again, feeling Gojo’s fingers ruffle roughly through his hair before he’s suddenly standing up and offering a hand Geto isn’t quite sure he deserves to hold.

#sweeter than death #geto suguru #gojo satoru #geto suguru x gojo satoru #geto x gojo #jjk fan fic #geto fan fic #gojo fan fic #summer writes

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