#im not very good at being on my own. i suppose not having a job and being at home all the time doesnt help me either. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luv4fushi · 4 months

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omfg i litr read everything uve written off ur masterlist I NEED MOREEEE. i love the way u write megumi especially, i couldn’t get enough of it. i hope you write more of him, my heart aches for more tbh 🥹 tysm for being such a good writer and feeding us starved readers well

tysm! i'm sooo glad i can be a good source of megumi content for you >_< i looove writing megumi so you'll be seeing sooo much more of him, dw! happy holidays!

this december

jjk fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

it’s always colder on your own, especially around this time of year. you should be at home, bundled up with a warm cup of hot chocolate, but here you are in shinjuku, exorcizing curses with your ex boyfriend two weeks after your breakup with him. great.

content: post break up, aged up megumi (19/20), megumi is terrible at feelings, getting back together, fluff if you squint, a bit of angst, miscommunication, one bed (but it isn’t the main plot point sorry), megumi calls you baby like once, gojo is the best wingman, SHIBUYA ARC NEVER HAPPENED AND LIFE IS GOOD, not proofread im very sorry guys pls forgive me, kinda a word dump sry

word count: 5.8k (sigh this was supposed to be 2k words max)

click on my masterlist for more & merry christmas to those who celebrate!

it’s december 19th when satoru gojo tells you that he has a mission just for you. you’re less than ecstatic about it to say the least. the last thing you want to do is be sent to your death just shy of christmas day. you just want to rest your sore muscles and bask in the presence of your best friends. you’re not in the mood to kill any curses, mainly because you’ve just recovered from a previous mission.

“why me?” you groan.

gone are the days where you used to be a goody two shoes for satoru. you’re old enough to talk back now, not like when you had been a shy fifteen-year-old girl. besides, you’ve been around the silver-haired sorcerer long enough to know that he doesn’t mind the bite.

“sorry, kid,” satoru says with a shrug. at least he sounds genuine about it. “the higher ups requested for you specifically. they say you’ll get the job done in the cleanest way. we can’t have things getting messy before the holidays, right?”

“and you wouldn’t be the best choice?” you quip.

satoru only laughs. he ruffles your hair. even with your growth spurt and merciless training, he still towers over you. in a way, he’ll always be your mentor. “hey, i’m going out of town that weekend. give me a break.”

you huff petulantly. something about this mission seems fishy to you. you’re not nearly the strongest sorcerer out of the bunch of kids under satoru’s wings (not that you guys are kids anymore, but sometimes it’s hard to feel otherwise). hell, there’s the kyoto students. it feels like they never have to do anything. you wish that you were rebellious enough to chew utahime out for it.

“why couldn’t they just make yuta or megumi go?” you mutter under your breath. you stammer out megumi’s name and hope satoru doesn’t catch on to the way you can barely say it.

satoru knows about the breakup. why wouldn’t he? he’s basically megumi’s dad, even if the raven haired boy refuses to admit it. satoru’s six eyes mean you can’t hide anything from him (he’d been the first to know that megumi was head over heels for you).

satoru raises a brow. “oh, right. megumi’s coming along too.”

your face twists and you immediately whip around to glare at him. “you’re lying.”

“i wish,” he jokes. “i was really hoping i’d get a wedding invitation one day, you little rascal. i can’t believe you two broke up. maybe this’ll be a good thing!”

“i appreciate your honesty, but—”

“but megumi’s an emotionally constipated kid, yeah, that i know,” satoru laughs. he makes his way to the exit of his office which has you furrowing your brows. is your former teacher actually gonna just leave after making you come all the way here? how rude and so very in character of him.

“please, gojo,” you call out after him, “i don’t wanna go with him.”

“sucks for you,” satoru responds halfheartedly. “merry christmas. try not to take more than a week on this. you’ll have to pay the rest of the fee for accommodations if you do.”

“gojo!” you whine.

“it’s not a hard mission!” satoru insists like it’ll make your life any easier. “y’know, this time of year is when things get ugly. think of it as saving as many people as you can while putting in the least amount of effort!”

and then he teleports. your former teacher teleports away rather than being normal and walking out of the door. you roll your eyes and hope that he can sense it (you know he can’t).

so that’s why you’re here now. with your ex. on the elevator to your assigned room on the tenth floor. you’re so glad that it’s a normal hotel and not a love hotel. lord knows what you’d do if you had checked into a love hotel.

megumi hasn’t spoken a word to you since he broke up with you two weeks ago. it had been in the doorway to your apartment a few days after a particularly rough mission assigned to the both of you—the one you’re still recovering from. he’d pulled you in for a hug, whispering sweet words into your ear. he gave you a look, one of those looks that made him soften his usually sharp eyes.

“i think we should break up.”

and then came the pathetic whimper of yours. he had wiped your tears, even kissed them tenderly, before telling you that it wasn’t your fault—it was his. how cliche.

now as you stand next to him, you want to beat yourself up for not asking for closure. neither of you had explicitly stated that you two were going to be no-contact, but it hurts a lot less to push the idea of forever with megumi away to the back of your mind. besides, you two aren’t confrontational like that. not with each other, anyway.

“need help?” his tone is soft, tender—the tone he reserves specifically for you, the one that tells you he still cares.

you stare down at the luggage at your feet. you’ve always been a chronic overpacker, a habit that megumi knows of by now. he watches you curiously, hands itching at his sides. you can tell that he wants to reach out and grab your suitcase like he always does. he thinks he isn’t obvious, but you can always read through the lines, especially when it’s megumi.

“i’m okay,” you croak out, clearing your throat awkwardly.

the elevator dings and you make your way to your room. as much as you hate to admit it, you’re sort of glad that you and your ex boyfriend are sharing a room. perhaps his’ll be a good way to get closure, though you’re not really sure what closure entails.

what you don’t expect is to unlock the door and be met with a singular bed.

if satoru gojo didn’t have a layer of infinity coating his body (and if he wasn’t the strongest sorcerer alive), you would’ve wrung out his neck.

megumi simply walks into the room, setting his duffel bag down on one of the dressers opposite from the foot of the bed. he doesn’t comment on the lack of double beds, seemingly already aware of the set up.all he does is puff out a weary sigh. you suck in a breath and follow him inside, slipping your shoes off at the entrance.

you lug your suitcase in after you along with your duffel bag and backpack. you stumble forward and megumi’s arm snakes around your waist, steadying you.

“careful,” he mutters, nonchalantly taking your bag off our your shoulders.

it’s a quick series of movements; he swings your bag over his shoulders and places it on the dresser next to the one he’s claimed while guiding you softly to the side of the bed so that you’re not standing in the middle of the doorway.

you scrunch your face, feeling your heart thump against your ribcage. it’s stupid how he still has such a hold on you, even after two weeks of not seeing or talking to him. he’s just so caring, so gentle. it stings, like little the little cuts you get when fighting curses, when you realize that this is something you’ll have to learn how to lose.

“thanks,” you manage to mutter. you don’t trust yourself to say anything else. you know from the way your throat tightens that you’ll be crying soon if you force yourself to talk any more.

“i can take the couch,” megumi says.

it’s that easy with him; he’s a gentleman, so of course he’d take the couch. that’s the way megumi fushiguro is—he offers a solution before you even have the chance to complain. in your year and a half long relationship, that skill of his had been a saving grace.

“no, don’t bother,” you croak. “i’ll book another room.”

“really?” he asks. he stands up a little straighter, awkwardly reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “i mean, i don’t mind sharing a room with you… we’ve..”

we’ve shared a room countless of times before.

megumi doesn’t have to continue his sentence for you to understand what he’s implying. you part your lips to speak, but nothing comes out except for a long, heavy sigh. your shoulders drop as you let the exhaustion seep into your bones. there’s no use arguing about it, not when you don't’ mind sharing a room with megumi, either.

“we’ve broken up,” you remind him in a quiet voice, like you’re afraid saying it out loud will make it truer than it already is.

megumi pauses. you see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. “i know that, but … it’ll be fine. we’ve shared a room as friends before.”

he’s right, like he usually is. you two have shared a room before as just friends, but that had been as teenagers—back when you both harbored such hardcore crushes on each other that you two somehow didn’t notice.

“right,” you find yourself agreeing with a small nod.

“you should go get ready for bed.” megumi begins grabbing a few or the decorative pillow off of the bed. he places them gingerly on the brown couch tucked in the corner of the hotel room. “we’ll be getting up pretty early to deal with the brunt of the mission.”

to finish this mission as quickly as possible, you think.

and so you oblige and head to the bathroom. it’s december 19th, just a few days shy of christmas day, and you’re in bed with your ex boyfriend on the couch just a few feet away.

december 20th greets you with megumi hovering over you. he peers down at you with his messy bangs covering his eyes. they’re piercingly blue as he blinks. his lashes flutter perfectly, even in the early morning. your eyes meet his and you jolt awake.

“good morning,” he says. “your alarm has been ringing for a bit now, so i turned it off.”

you blink rapidly, getting the tiredness out of your eyes. “oh.”

he chuckles softly, just enough for you to catch it with your ears. he rises from his crouched position and heads to the front door. he spares you a glance over his shoulder before he heads out, presumably giving you the privacy you need. you let out a strangled breath before you swing your legs over the bed and head to the bathroom.

by the time you’re finished putting on your uniform, you swing the door to your hotel room open and see megumi leaned up against the wall, tapping away on his phone. his dark blue eyes flicker up to you and he turns away to head down the hall.

you furrow your brows. you can’t help but think that he’s being a little cold to you. it isn’t like you initiated the breakup. despite your frustration with his behavior, you can sort of understand why he wouldn’t want to be sweet around you; you two aren’t dating anymore and so it makes sense that he’d go back to being aloof in your presence, the usual way he acts around everyone else. losing that position in his life makes your stomach churn for reasons you’re less than willing to uncover.

your mission is a vague one; all you know is that it’s a clean-up mission. rather than a level 1 curse (or even a special grade), the mission consists of an acclimation of weak curses surrounding shinjuku. these missions are normally given to younger, more inexperienced sorcerers with the help of a senior sorcerer, but for an odd reason, it’s been given to you and megumi this year. megumi could’ve probably handled it himself. actually, you could’ve handled it yourself.

you bite your tongue to hold back on your complaints as you walk just a step behind megumi. he pauses regularly, waiting for you to catch up to his side. you roll your eyes in secret. does he not realize that you don’t want to walk next to him?

“it’s all just bars,” you mutter.

with that, you earn a tiny laugh from megumi. “well, yeah. this is the red-light district of shinjuku.”

you pale. “this sucks.”

“why do you think i wanted to come out here in the morning rather than at night?” he says, his tone strangely light.

“to deal with the brunt of the mission,” you repeat his words from last night sarcastically. you’re unsure as to what he’s talking about, so you think that it’s okay to give him a little bit of attitude.

he raises his brow but doesn’t comment on your sarcasm. instead, he says softly, “no, stupid. it’s because this is the red-light district. it’s unsafe for anyone, especially a pretty, young girl alone at night.”

your first thought is to coo and tease him. you think i’m pretty? it takes you half a second to remember that you two are broken up. you scoff, “i’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“i never said you weren’t,” megumi shoots back. “it would just be annoying explaining to the higher ups why you were fighting people and not curses.”

“i’m sure they’d understand,” you retort, frowning. you cross your arms.

“don’t be so pouty,” he says in that stupid, gentle tone he uses with you when you’re acting bratty.

you both decide to split up. well, it’s more like you demand the two of you to split up. you say it under the pretense that it’ll get the job done faster. besides, you both want to be home before christmas day, right?

there’s about two curses you cross paths with every hour. you’re starting to lose your mind. shouldn’t the streets be infested with them? you don’t even need a veil! all you have to do is give the weak curses just one punch and they vaporize on the spot. your head is running with hundreds of thoughts.

that’s when it hits you: the first years at the tokyo jujutsu school did come out here a week prior! maybe they did a bad job? but you remember nobara had been the one to lead the group. she may half-ass almost everything in her life, but she wouldn’t jeopardize her underclassmen for the sake of her freetime.

so why on earth are you here? it’s not like there are enough harmful curses for a mission to be assigned to you right before christmas, and to you and megumi of all sorcerers. you’re both strong enough to the point of having some kind of importance in the jujutsu world. the higher ups wouldn’t send the two of you on some stupid mission for the sake of it unless they’re planning some sort of secret execution. but even then, satoru gojo should’ve known through their lies to not send you or megumi. unless…he wants you two dead…?

you shake your head and bite your nails. the sun begins to set and you realize that you’ve been out here for longer than you expected. you’re starting to feel a chill in your bones—you had argued petulantly with megumi earlier about not wanting to wear your jacket despite it being the dead of winter; “it’s gonna get in the way!”

you always seem to forget the the sun sets earlier in the winter. it’s stupid how bright all the lights are in shinjuku. there isn’t a square foot of anything that isn’t lit up with neon signs reading out the names of clubs and bars. you see couples and large groups of people walking along the streets.

it’s lonely, you realize. it would’ve been less lonely with megumi.

you make your way to the meeting spot with megumi. you both share a few small words before retiring for the night. megumi says he wants to go sightseeing, even though there’s really nothing much to see. he doesn’t return to the hotel room until late at night.

when he slips into the only bed that the room offers, you chalk it up to the slight alcohol you smell on his lips. it feels so natural that you don’t push him away even though you should. his body is warm and you fit so perfectly against his broad chest that you think it’ll be okay for you to be a little selfish tonight.

“g’night,” megumi mumbles in his sleep.

you smile and nuzzle closer.

it’s december 21st as you realize how late it is in the day. megumi is back on the couch. you feel a tinge of disappointment in the bottom of your stomach.

to no one’s surprise, the sun is barely peeking over the buildings when you’re finally back in the red-light district. you’re doing the last bit of cleanup, but there’s really nothing much for you to clean.

tomorrow, you’ll be heading to a shopping mall, so you suppose you should do your best to sniff out the rest of the curses littering the place unless you want to stay here an extra day. the day is, yet again, slow.

it’s nearing 8 PM and you're finally sure that you’ve gotten rid of all the curses in the general area. you’ve been done for quite a while now, but you just haven’t found the courage to let megumi know that you’re ready to go back to the hotel room. a little sightseeing on your end wouldn’t hurt, right?

“hi, pretty.” a gravelly voice, battered by cigarettes, whispers in your ear.

you jump in surprise. you need to remember not to get too far into your head. you should’ve felt his presence coming from a mile away. it’s a terrible habit and satoru has scolded you for years about it.

“hi,” you mutter, pushing past his larger frame.

the man isn’t as nicely built as the men you know (but then again, your friends are jujutsu sorcerers, so it’s kind of hard to beat that), but he still towers over you. he’s got a squad of rough-looking guys behind him, smirking down at you.

“why’s someone like you alone?” he says, shoving his arm to loop around your waist.

you roll your eyes, getting ready to punch the man square in the nose. will you get in trouble? probably yes. will it be a funny story to tell? also probably yes.

“don’t touch my wife.”

the group of men turn their heads along with you to see megumi. his expression is shrouded with a mixture of anger and frustration. you blink in confusion—megumi usually looks pretty pissed off, but this is the most angry you’ve seen him in a while. and ‘wife’? what’s up with that?

“oh, my bad,” the man chuckles. “didn’t know this pretty thing was married.”

“this ‘pretty thing’ wants you to let her go,” you say with an overly sweet smile. your teeth clench and you hiss, “right now.”

the guy scurries down the sidewalk with his buddies trailing along, making fun of him for hitting on a married woman. nobody mentions the lack of a ring on your finger. nobody mentions the lack of a relationship, either.

“wife?” you scowl. “we’re broken up.”

“guys tend to back up when they know a woman is married. it’s the only way you can really, uh, get them to go away around here.”

you glare at him. “and how would you know? you come here often with girls?”

“...no?” he blinks, unable to comprehend your sudden burst of jealousy. “i sometimes get missions around here, though. pretending to be married was the easiest way—”

“we aren’t, though. we’re not even in a relationship.” you seem to be throwing that into his face a lot more than you should. you can’t help it, though. you still feel a little bitter about not getting a real reason as to why megumi wanted to break up.

“i was trying to help you.” he’s calm and collected, as heard through his voice. he walks up to you and takes your freezing hand into his much warmer ones. “let’s go home.”

“i don’t want to,” you argue.

“stop being a brat,” he says, but there’s no bite to his words. “you’re cold and you’ve been out here all day. if i hadn’t stopped those guys, you probably would’ve beat them up pretty badly.”

“i’m not a fucking brat!” you try to retract your hand, but megumi’s grip only tightens.

“baby, stop,” the pet name rolls off his tongue with ease. megumi sighs softly and pulls you to his chest. “why are you so worked up, hm?”

from the way he speaks, you can tell that he already has an inkling. the breakup. cuddling last night. hugging you now. everything.

you don’t realize you’re crying until he gently wipes his thumb under your eye. he has the audacity to have an amused grin plastered on his stupidly pretty lips. your vision is blurry but if it hadn’t been, you would’ve thrown a punch.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair. “it’s all my fault.”

“it is,” you whimper pathetically. all the tears and the emotions you’ve been holding back bubble up to the surface.

“don’t be upset,” he almost pleads. “let’s go back, okay?”

the night ends with megumi on the couch. neither of you bring up the argument or the fact that he had slept in your bed with you last night. you two don’t talk about the usage of pet names, either.

when you open your eyes on december 22nd, you’re surprised to see that megumi has already headed out for the day. you click your tongue in annoyance—he’s always been good at avoiding his problems when it comes to dealing with them, especially problems involving his emotions. you already know where you’re supposed to be headed, so you suppose that it’s for the best that he’d left before you.

the shopping mall is a long line of vendors and stores among other things. the snow on the ground is fresh—it must’ve snowed late last night after you’d fallen asleep. it crunches underneath your beat-up sneakers with each step you take. you’re not shocked when you end up wandering aimlessly, dipping in and out of stores with no real urgency to finish your mission.

there’s nothing to do anyway.

you’ve killed about 3 curses total and it’s really starting to look like you’ve been sent out here for busy work. you really should’ve figured that out the first day of the mission when you had to practically beg the curses to come out and fight you.

you find yourself in the front of a jewelry store, eyeing a pretty bracelet that you know would look stunning around megumi’s wrist. it’s one of those bracelets that clasp tightly. there’s a thicker band in the center with pretty carvings that seem to resemble some sort of swirly heart. it’s pretty, you have to admit.

without much thought, you buy the gift.

the seller has to clear her throat to get your attention when you don’t answer her question. “um, would you like this to be wrapped?”

you nod absentmindedly. “oh, yes. sorry. please wrap it.”

she nods in return and proceeds to wrap the bracelet in a tiny box, adorning it with a festive bow. you ask her to change it out for a different color, explaining that it isn’t a christmas gift and instead, it’s for someone’s birthday. she offers you a warm smile before switching it with a muted blue ribbon.

you return to the hotel, having to take an expensive taxi. you don’t mind—the bracelet has already made a decent-sized dent in your wallet. why not spend an extra amount on getting home? it’s not like jujutsu sorcerers are paid poorly.

reality hits you when you finally get back to the hotel room. you want to punch yourself for being so stupid. did you really just buy a birthday present for your ex-boyfriend?

you’re thankful that megumi hasn’t arrived yet. he seems to be determined to avoid you for as long as he can. you can’t blame him, either. you did give him quite a hard time yesterday.

you toss the box on to the dresser and head to the bathroom to splash some much needed cold water on to your face. maybe that’ll wake you up enough to clear your mind. you’ve acted out once during this trip already and you’re not really looking forward to any other possible outbursts.

you rinse your face and pat yourself dry with one of the face towels provided to you by the hotel staff. you hang it over the rack again and tiredly make your way to your bed. you halt your movements when you see megumi standing by the dresser, admiring your gift.

he looks up at you in surprise with the smallest grin on his face. it’s so subtle that you would’ve missed it had you not been dating him for nearly two years.

“is this for me?”

“no,” you quickly deny. his face falls and you cough out, “um, i mean.. yeah. i-i didn’t… i… happy birthday.”

he brightens, lips pulling up into a real, genuine smile. “you remembered?”

“why wouldn’t i?” you blurt gently. you bite your inner cheek to stop yourself from saying anything more.

“i dunno.” his voice is distant and low, like he’s trying to hold back his tears. “i just…i didn’t think i was deserving of a gift from you. thank you. i like it.”

you stand awkwardly, shifting your weight onto your other foot. “yeah, well…”

“can you help me put it on?” he asks, sitting at the edge of your unmade bed.

you feel your body heat up. part of you screams for you to stop. you shouldn’t do that. it’s far too intimate and you two are broken up. you’ve never been good at making decisions, though, so you sit next to him and feel the mattress dip.

he gives you a grateful look, one that you willfully ignore, and gives you his wrist. you clasp the bracelet on, fingertips just barely grazing his skin. your heart skips a beat and you have to inhale sharply before pulling away.

“thank you,” he whispers.

december 23rd is a sore reminder that life goes on. you had half-expected something to spark between you and megumi. perhaps he’d beg for you back, or maybe with less wishful thinking, he’d give you his real reason as to why he doesn’t want you anymore.

“i don’t think we need to go anymore,” megumi says when you come out of the bathroom after freshening up.

“huh? why not?”

“there’s nothing out there.” megumi’s voice is flat.

“i know, but we’ll get in trouble if we…”

“gojo probably sent us out here for fun.”

your lips part. megumi turns to you with a slight frown.

“don’t you think so too?” he asks, but you know it isn’t a question he’s looking to find an answer to. “why would the higher-ups assign a mission like this to a special grade sorcerer and a grade 1 sorcerer? if they needed that much manpower, this mission would’ve been deadlier. instead, we’re playing cleanup crew.”

“yeah, but..” you trail off, unable to think of a statement to refute his words. “if we go back now, we’ll get chewed out.”

“it’s just a scolding. you’ll be fine.” megumi stands up and stretches his arms.

you watch him cautiously as he begins to fold his clothes and throw them into his duffel bag. he doesn’t say anything else, letting the silence overtake the room.

“...are we leaving, then?” you ask meekly, not bothering to hide the slight quiver in your voice.

he pauses slightly. “do you want to stay here until christmas? this mission is stupid and you know it. there’s no point.”

why is his tone so cold all of the sudden? it’s as if you two hadn’t shared a moment last night before bed. does your gift not mean anything to him now that he’s cleared his mind with a good rest?

your eyes flicker to his wrist. the gold glimmers underneath the light and you realize that megumi doesn’t seem to hate wearing it. so why is he acting so … unpleasant?

you feel a lump in your throat. it’s embarrassing how quickly he’s able to upset you from just the tone of his voice. even his body language, usually fluid and smooth, is rigid with your presence. you want to tell him that you’ve enjoyed your time with him. you want to shake his shoulders and tell him that if you two cut your mission short, you might not get another chance to be near him again.

“do you still care about me?” you whisper instead.

he stills completely. “what?”

“this entire time,” you begin shakily, “you’ve been nice to me. you treat me like you always do. you’re always hovering over me even though you pretend you aren’t! you obviously still care, megumi.”

his adam's apple bobs as swallows. a beat of silence. then two. then three.

“i do care,” he admits sorely.

“then why did you break up with me?” you blurt. there it is, the question you’ve been meaning to ask. you both had seen it coming.

“because…” megumi winces as if he’s the one getting hurt from the ordeal. “because you deserve someone that’s normal. someone that isn’t a sorcerer. i can’t give you that life.”

you feel your chest swarm with anger. why does he always think he needs to sabotage himself to make others happy? this is something you’ve tried working with him on, but it seems like old habits are hard to kill off, just like your habit of loving him.

“why the hell would you decide that for me? when did i ever say i wanted a normal life?” you snap. your hands clench at your sides.

“it’s too early for this,” he says, his voice straining as he finally musters up the strength to look at you in your eyes.

“tell me, megumi. if that’s the real reason, then that is the most pathetic excuse for a breakup i've ever heard.” your voice cracks and you gulp down the oncoming sob that’s threatening to explode from your throat.

he inhales slowly and makes his way to you, holding you close against his chest. you should push him away, but you would rather let him hug you. you know that you can’t fight him, anyway.

“you…once said you wanted a regular relationship. when you got hurt a few weeks ago, i realized i couldn’t be that for you,” he confesses lowly. “i knew that you’d never find it in yourself to leave, so i figured i should just let you go for your sa–”

“are you kidding me?” you shout incredulously. “i said that when i was fifteen, megumi! before i even knew what being in love was like!”

he flinches against you. “but i…”

“you and your damn savior complex! i don’t need to be in a regular, normal relationship! i don’t need any of that, megumi! i’m a sorcerer, I won't ever get to be normal! in fact, it’s even better that i’m with you because you at least know what this life is like, you idiot! you’re always ruining the good things in your life because you—”

he takes his fingers to grab your chin and he pulls you in for a kiss. if the kiss is a ploy to shut you up, you hate to admit that it’s working. his tongue slips into your mouth and you melt against him. your arms loop around his neck as you desperately drag him down closer to your body. his hand grip your waist while the other clings to the small of your back.

you whimper out of instinct and he pulls away, lips bruised and breathless. it’s been so long since you’ve tasted him and you frown, tiptoeing to capture his lips again. you need to savor him, to feel him lips against yours again.

“baby, wait.” his chest heaves as he looks down at you. “don’t…don’t do this to me.”

“do what?” you ask, an edge to your voice. did he just reject you? even after all that?

“w-we gotta report back to—”

“we’re supposed to leave tomorrow,” you interrupt.

the gears shift in his head. “fine, but—”

“i’m still really fucking mad, but i just need you to kiss me right now,” you whine impatiently.

all megumi does is laugh when he swoops down to press his lips against yours.

it’s december 24th when you two find yourselves in satoru’s office. steam is practically rising from your ears as you try to compose yourself in front of your former teacher.

“... i wanted a wedding invitation.” satoru shrugs.

“you set us up!” you whine angrily. “gojo, are you serious?! isn’t this a little immature?”

megumi stays silent, averting his gaze. he suddenly finds the succulents on satoru’s desk very interesting. he’s never noticed that they’re all nearly dead! how cool.

your eyes shoot daggers at megumi's silence.

"we aren't gonna get married any time soon..." megumi mutters when he feels your pointy glare on him.

satoru raises his hands in mock surrender. “you two can’t blame me! it worked out! you two are back together now, right?”

“but did you have to make us look like fools out there?” you groan.

“you should’ve figured it out on the first day that the mission was a sham!” satoru exclaims, offense taking over his features.

“but still!” you’re borderline hysterical at this point, unable to believe that your former teacher of all people had to set up an entire fake mission so that you and your ex could talk your feelings out. “we would’ve figured ourselves out sooner or later!”

megumi nods. he feels like he should at least give you a little support even if he’s embarrassed out of his mind.

“oh really?” satoru’s voice drips with sarcasm. “you guys should be thanking me—”

“you’re so not getting an invitation to our wedding!” you grumble.

“wha—hey! i’m the one that got you two back together! besides, i’m megumi’s guardian! you can’t just not invite me.”

“watch me!”

“megumi, tell her that she can’t do that—hey! where are you guys going? invite me, you rascals—why are you guys leaving? we aren’t done discussing this! megumi, don’t you dare take her side! she isn’t even your wife yet—don’t slam my door!”

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #megumi x you #fushiguro megumi x reader #jjk megumi #megumi fluff #not my best work tbh

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ohthewh0rror · 6 months

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NOVEMBER.

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚ prompt — A sneak peak into a random day with your boyfriend.

Pairing: Tom R. x Reader / Matteo R. X Reader / Theo Nott x Reader / Draco Malfoy x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

TOM R.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, giving yourself one final look over. Finding nothing out of place, you stood there and just stared at your reflection for a minute. Today was always difficult for you, a day you both dreaded and looked forward to. Today was the second Saturday of the month, the day you reserved for visiting your little sister's grave. It’s a tradition you’ve held since she passed away 3 years ago.

For a long time you didn’t tell Tom about what you did, not wanting anyone else there while you grieved, but you finally came clean last week. Tom was someone you were very serious about and it was time he knew, you didn’t invite him, and you doubt he remembered, so you didn’t have any expectations of him going with you.

Still, it hurt a little that he wasn’t there. You knew his job took up a lot of his time, but you were hoping he’d make an excuse to leave for the day and be there for you. Swallowing your disappointment, you apparated to your family cemetery, just outside the gates. As the world came into focus you saw that you weren’t alone. There stood Tom, flowers in hand, waiting outside the gates for you. You walked up to him, tears already threatening to cloud your vision.

“You remembered…” your voice trailed off, biting the inside of your cheek to try and keep your composure. Tom gave you a slight smile, holding his hand out for you to take, “of course I remembered, it’s important to you, so now it’s important to me too.”

Taking his hand, you walked in with him, beginning to tell him about her.

DRACO M.

“Give me my shirt back,” Draco's voice sounded defeated as you held the shirt hostage behind your back. I knew this game wouldn’t last long, Draco was much taller, and though you hated to admit it, faster than you as well. Despite being at a disadvantage you couldn’t help but want to tease him.

Was it really so bad to want your shirtless boyfriend to chase after you? You didn’t think so.

“Y/N…” there was a warning in the way he said your name. A warning that you were in for it if you didn’t return his shirt. But, instead of scaring you, his voice sent a thrill up your spine. Your heart raced as you bit your lip, anticipating what was in store for you. You shook your head no, and took a slow step back.

Draco stared at you for a beat before rushing towards you. A high-pitched squeal left you as you turned, bolting towards the door. You’d only made it two feet out the door of his dorm when Draco’s arms wrapped around your waist, flinging you over his shoulder. “N-no! Put me down!” You exclaimed through hysterical laughter, fist hitting his back.

“You had your chance to do the right thing,” Draco told you, walking back into his dorm, the door slamming shut and locking behind the two of you.

MATTHEO R.

Mattheo wasn’t sure what to say to you that wouldn’t further piss you off. He knew you didn’t like when he let his jealousy cause issues, especially on nights that were supposed to be for going out and having a good time. But, when he returned with your drinks and saw a nameless wizard flirting with you, all he felt was the flames of red-hot anger sizzling away any rational thoughts he had.

Mattheo kept his cool as walked up to the two of you. He could tell the wizard was annoyed by his interruption, but the man didn’t say anything to him. Mattheo set your drink down in front of you before placing a chaste kiss on your lips. Mattheo could see you about to say something as soon as he pulled away, but before you got the chance to try and ease Mattheo’s anger, he had picked his own drink up, throwing it in the man’s face.

Tightening his grip on the heavy glass mug, while the man was temporarily blinded by alcohol, Mattheo swung and hit the man in the face. The man cried, falling back onto his ass, grabbing his face. Immediately, Mattheo was on top of the man, mug gone, settling on hitting him with his fist. Mattheo heard you yelling for him to stop, before he felt a spell hit his shoulder, knocking him off the man.

Now, after being kicked out and forced to calm down, Mattheo busied himself kicking rocks as you two walked to an apparation point. “Why did you have to do that, Mattheo?!” You sounded pissed, but at least you were talking to him now. “Because he had the audacity to flirt with my wife!” Mattheo exclaimed, trying to defend himself. You stopped, a look of disbelief on your face, “mattheo…really? We aren’t even married.”

“Yet.” Mattheo mumbled, not being able to bring himself to look at you, instead busing himself with pebbles again. You scoffed, walking off, leaving behind.

“Y/N! Wait!”

THEO N.

Theo was a big baby when he was sick. He didn’t get sick often, but you truly hated when it did happen. He was clingy and whiny, wanting all your attention. Which is how you ended up in bed with a sick Theo.

There was no doubt you were going to be sick tomorrow, Theo’s long limbs entangled with yours under the sheets. His head, clammy and hot to the touch resting on your chest, as you played with his soft brown hair. You felt bad as you heard his chest rattling with every breath. “Do you need anything?” You asked him, your voice barely above a whisper. Theo looked at you, chin resting on your chest, “can I have a kiss?”.

It took everything in you not to laugh in his face. That’s really what he wanted? No potion, no water, no soup, but instead a kiss? This man was something else. “Baby, I don’t want to get sick myself,” you told him. Though, you both knew that you were already doomed. Theo laid his head back down on your chest, but his head craned backwards, his lips puckered.

Tapping his puckered lips, teasing you, he waited for you to plant a kiss on him. You let out a laugh in disbelief, but gave in, giving him peck. Content, he cuddled back into you, falling asleep.

He’s lucky you love him.

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linkedin-offficial · 5 months

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is this anything . sky:cotl au

details (aka my rambling) under the cut

mostly set upon the whole idea that caine came from eden and tries to help everyone gain their wings (albeit doing a terrible job the entire time)

bubble keeps the name bubble!

they r a mantatee :3 suprisingly chaotic for a light creature and sort of has the "eat light and puff out candles" personality that caine should have but doesn't

i contemplated caine being called "the creature" just for shits and giggles (and eventually went with it) since im absolutely certain everyone who ever meets him ever would be terrified for a little bit until they realize hes sentient; he doesn't understand that the name is supposed to be sort of derogatory

caine is the only one with wings because hes the only one who can canonically fly/float!

(and yes his head is supposed to be a dark plant . i like to think im big brain for this)

the reason why his dark plant head is tinted red btw . my thought process was basically "ah yes. red = good bcus eden :]" even though thats convoluted since everyone hates eden but that makes it better in a way. i think

zooble > mismatched worksmith

"bows" given to them by ragatha as an identifier; not like theyd need one though ..

constantly making their own prosthetics due to growing boredom with their previous ones (autism™) and also carved the designs into their mask themself

kinger > reluctant royalty

same old kinger as usual .. when asked what he rules he doesnt particularly remember nor have an answer so hes usually treated with respect out of pity for being old and senile

second tallest behind jax , also the oldest (if you dont count caine i guess? whos sort of. ageless)

ragatha > plush friendfinder

matching bow with jax :3 sibling moment! (yes i like the ragatha + jax sibling dynamic . its amazing to me)

right eye does not glow and actually looks like a hollow hole if you get close enough to her face! also clothing making buddies with zooble :] she taught them how to sew without pricking themself

gangle > wrapped up theatre-goer (i had such a hard time thinking of a name .. and to be honest?? im not solid on this but WHAGEVER.)

shortest. obviously

likes to write plays in her spare time and reads them to zooble while they work

clothes are sectioned and Very flowy, and has a few (cracked and broken) masks she likes to use for play improv (and also uses for herself sometimes if she has a hard time expressing a certain emotion)

jax > towering tease (it sounds stupid but THIS is so fucking funny.i cannot resist this)

tallest OBVIOUSLY. like stupidly tall . has its advantages and disadvantages (like being able to steal things from gangle with no consequences . on the other hand. doorframes)

him being tall and having that be the only thing hes got going for him is absolutely hilarious to me and im leaning into that hard

he has a tail also, but its small and not visible from the chart

pomni > jittery jester (i had to look up "other words for anxious" for this.my intelligence is showing)

pretty much the only one i referenced real in game clothing for, which sort of fits! protag moment

this was all i really had, since other established things like their personalities and relationships arent really changed much. but this was fun to think about :3 input is appreciated !

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thesherrinfordfacility · 9 months

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✨already on the metatron erasure campaign™ let's fucking go✨:

*EDIT, IMPORTANT* I can't believe i even missed this...but metatron is dressed in a dark coat and (iirc) tie

we know from s1 that metatron has very little patience for aziraphale, was pro-armageddon, and at least claimed to be the voice of God (when my man is basically a glorified answerphone)

the half-and-half miracle was conducted on top of the sigil, the transportation circle through which aziraphale dialled 101-metatron in s1, and we know the miracle ended up being Very Powerful

michael doesn't seem to recognise metatron... which is odd as theyre high ranking, uriel and saraqael seem to recognise him, they've definitely met, and michael was shown in the job minisode to have pretty good recollection for job's kids' names - possible memory wipe? saw something they weren't supposed to?

says he has consumed human matter before - why would metatron have been on earth??? and know what to order in a mf café???

speaking of the café, the dialogue, about people asking for death? "No... I don't suppose they do... So predictable."not sure on what this means but 💀 fckin weirdo

refers to muriel as the dim one but still puts her in charge of a heaven sanctuary on earth? as far as we know, the only one? hmmm seems like you want a puppet metty babes

butters up aziraphale with the sweet, cosy coffee - but indicating that he barely knows him at all given that we mainly see aziraphale drinking tea

what he ordered in the café was a small dash of almond syrup, but then describes it to aziraphale as being a hefty jigger of the stuff, indicating something added? wondering if there's further significance to the laudanum poison - an opiate? planning to essentially kidnap aziraphale knowing that crowley won't come looking now?

'hmm it's nice!" "yes I should jolly well hope so" 😁

a veeeeeery faint miracle chime as the coffee is handed over and when aziraphale raises it to his mouth, but hesitates... He asks "shall i...?" And metty goes:

"DRINK IT???😠 of course🙂"

definitely History™ with crowley; crowley readily recognises him after a moment, the look metatron gave him as they left the shop was filthy, and: "ah well! always did want to go his own way... always asking damn fool questions, too!"... like i get metatron is the voice of God, but was it metatron that actually made crowley fall? does metatron have that power, not exclusively god? did metatron say it was on god's orders?

plus - metatron tells aziraphale that he can reverse falling which, to me, seems like a pretty bomb ass power... and a bit OP even for the highest Archangel of heaven, leading me to:

very low, sultry ass voice, maintaining eye contact with aziraphale - all trademarks of hypnotism (temptation?) behaviour? while aziraphale was possibly drugged?

and was the promise of getting crowley restored to heaven actually a bluff, metatron knowing the aziraphale even attempting to broach it with crowley would split them up?

"go tell your friend the good news!!" Said in a voice that makes me think metty knows it's very Bad News Bears

is the whole thing a ploy to split them up? they came together in heaven, and then again on earth; is metatron trying to solve this one by essentially making aziraphale an offer he can't refuse, but that crowley absolutely will?

why choose the lift? why not just power up the circle and go through the sunroof???

and im sorry metatron but you must realise that aziraphale is severely underqualified right💀

#lmao you can take the girl out of theory writing but you cant take theory writing out of the girl #good omens #feral domestic/final fifteen meta #metatron spec

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kaisfruit · 5 months

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Hi! how's your day going?

I'd like to request the ninja from Ninjago and an older sibling reader if that alright? You know just cute fluffy days with siblings.

Ninjago Older Sibling!Reader Headcanons <3

A/N; Ahhh hi!!! my day is good ty <3 tysm for this ask this is so cute 🥺🥺 i hope u dont mind hcs, but if u do feel free to ask again and i'll gladly make smthn longer :] jus thought hcs fit the vibe

warnings; none! just fluff <3

Kai and Nya

Absolutely the most chaotic sibling trio

Nya constantly getting upset with you and Kai for playing the "i'm the older sibling" card

Nya: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU GUYS DIDN'T SAVE A PIECE FOR ME?

You and Kai: older siblings get cake first that's just the rule. sorry <33

But Kai gets just as upset as she does when you do it to him

You guys all love each other though so it's okay

Just the vibes of being their older sibling would be the most competitive basic sibling rivalry type stuff yk

Lloyd

Constantly doting over him

You might as well be his parental figure since MISAKO AND GARMADON WERE THE WORSTTTTT

You and Kai take turns mother henning him

You and Kai are bffs btw like. I don't make the rules. Kai is just his adoptive older brother in my head, so you two bond over caring for Lloyd

Definitely his comfort person after a long day <3

You're the one Lloyd trusts the most in his life and he isn't scared to tell you his fears because, despite any assumed sibling teasing, he knows you'll take him seriously on that regard

Jay

You guys make annoying each other a full time job

Constantly fighting over who the favorite is

Y/N: At least I help out at the junkyard!!

Jay: I'm literally out saving the world everyday!!!

*aggressive slap fight ensues*

OMG no. he's definitely the younger sibling to pull the rapid fire kick tactic

His elemental abilities go out the window when y'all fight. Just straight up, falls on his back and starts kicking up at you

All fun n games until you're able to catch one of his legs

You totally embarrass him as much as you can in front of Nya too

As Jay's older sibling, you're legally obligated to be Cole's bestie since Cole is Jay's bestie. you guys lovingly torment the lightning user together <33

Cole

The most chill sibling duo to ever exist

you both didn't appreciate Lou's insistence of the singing and dancing shit so y'all just decided to be ride or dies for life

much like cole, you get along so well with the rest of the ninja

idrk what to say here

nvm i do

You guys play video games with each other and you are infinitely salty at the fact that your younger brother is better than you at most video games

like wtf? isn't it supposed to be a god given right for all older siblings to be better at video games???? the FSM screwed you!!!

but you've never let him live down the one time he lost to you at super smash bros

you have refused to play with him since

Zane

See, idk if you'd be his ACTUAL sibling yk since he's a robot? maybe more like you were supposed to be a protege to dr. julien, but decided to just be a 4 lyfer with zane after his passing

you've helped zane understand human culture so much and he's real appreciative of your existence

the ninja absolutely fucking ADORE when you're around because what's better than one zane? TWO ZANES !!!

well, obviously you're your own person but! i could see zane adopting a lot of your mannerisms so you two end up being very similar

quality time is y'alls bread and butter

working around each other perfectly as y'all both cook in the kitchen

words never need to be shared between the two of you. just hanging around the other is enough yk? like y'all are bonding just by existing near each other and it is magical

ANOTHER A/N; i tried my best to highlight reader being the older sibling but </3 idk if i did it that well. i saw "sibling fluff" and RAN!! im willing to do a pt 2 or like a one shot or anything with a prompt similar to this !! im the youngest sibling myself tho so idk if i can properly portray being an older sibling (only in a mean light. yk like greg heffley and rodrick. do NOT recommend having older siblings y'all /j)

#ninjago headcanons #ninjago #kai smith #nya smith #jay walker #zane julien #cole brookstone #lloyd garmadon #ninjago kai #ninjago nya #ninjago jay #ninjago cole #ninjago zane #ninjago lloyd #lego ninjago #reader insert #gender neutral reader #sibling reader #ninjago x reader

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soggyriceee · 10 months

Text

Helping Hand | dbf!Captain Price

summary: after your parents argue again, you walk over to your neighbors house who, you've had relations with in the past. true feelings are brought up be end in the most romantic way, loooooong back story but I feel like that makes the smut part of it so much better

warnings: dbf!Price, female!reader, age gap (reader 22, Price 45), unprotected P in V, fingering, daddy kink (bc hes daddy)

another restless night. your mom screaming at your dad for being at the bar late at night, him screaming back that he needed the break. "I work 60 hours a week!" he'd yell. "you are never home for dinner, barely make it to your kids important days!" she'd yell back, sometimes throwing a pan at him. it was bad. and you'd have to hear it every other night. your brothers drinking was no help either. family arguments were common, no matter how much you tried to avoid them. your mom would burst into your room, telling you to take her side, your father having the same idea.

"can you guys please stop I have exams tomorrow." you remember telling them, trying your hardest to focus on the notes in front of you. it was 12 in the morning. they were all supposed to be asleep. but of course, your dad stumbled in drunkly, waking up your mom and brother. it was peaceful in the house until it wasn't. thats why you'd often saunter over to your neighbor, John, to get some sleep.

"of course kid, you never have to ask." he always told you, smiling down as he opened the door wide. his wife was always delighted to have you over, she saw you as one of her own seeing as they never had kids. John was too busy with the military, kids was never truly an option for him. but he never saw you as his own, as his kid. he saw you as a woman. a woman who caught his eye the second she moved in next door two years ago.

your family had moved next door so it was closer to your college, but also to your fathers job. and Price and his wife were very quick to welcome you all into the neighborhood. they were the first people who invited you to their cookouts, parties. anything. your father had grown so close to Price, it was like they were brothers. and thats what made Price's feelings towards you even more conflicted and morally wrong. he knew he couldn't pursue you. he was significantly older than you, married and friends with your father. there were a surplus of negatives rather than positives and he was not willing to risk anything.

but when the summer time hit, and you'd slide into his pool, the pink or white bikini latching to your skin, he couldn't help but excuse himself up to his room and fuck into his fist, moaning your name into his hand. and what was the worst part about it all, he didnt care about what his wife would think. he cared what you'd think.

his marriage was falling apart quickly. his wife was very passionate about having kids, even though she was 40. "please, at least before im dried up for good." she'd beg him. but he wouldn't budge. kids was not something he wanted to have, ever. and because of that arguments were not a foreign thing for the two of them. so, it wasn't that you were young. or maybe it was. but it was because you would give him a new sense of life, a breath of fresh air away from arguments and constant stress.

the first night you had come to his home, tears falling from your cheeks, he was instantly worried. he pulled you into the house, pulling you into his chest. his wife came out quickly, gaping at your disheveled look. "oh my.. what happened my dear?" she ask, dropping the cup of tea in hand and running to hug you alongside John.

from that night on you made it routine to come sleep over in their house, whenever you needed. they even gave you a key. you felt more at home with them than you did at your home. they let you decorate the guest room into your own, took you out on small little events. it gave John's wife a sense of motherhood, one that she wanted for years.

so, when you and Price were in your room together, making out passionately, his hand gripping your boobs, your hands tangled in his hair, it didnt strike her as odd when she walked in to see you both on your bed. "she was having a hard time in school.. English test, right?" John said to her, quick to have an excuse. you nodded, swallowing hard. "y-yea I just.. needed to vent." you said, looking at her.

that was a month ago of course, she had believed you both. but that was the last time you and Price had ever really done anything of sorts again. and that was the last time you had been to their house. the feelings, tension between you both was too much and you both knew, that you wouldn't be able to make the right decisions if you both were alone together again.

but things were getting hard again and you needed to escape home. another family fight, this time about your father bringing up another woman's name during sex. it was disturbing, gross and uncomfortable for you to be around. but the screaming, breaking glass. it was not something you wanted to spend your summer night listening to.

looking out the window, you bit your bottom lip before making the final decision to sneak out and head over to your home. your real home. grabbing your phone, laptop and AirPods, you made your way out the window, landing on the mini roof in front of your window and slowly, climbing down to where the floor was. silently, you made your way across your lawn and over to Mr. Price's, looking at all the new flowers his wife had recently grown. a part of you felt guilt, selfish even for coming into their home, knowing what had happened between you and Price a few weeks ago. but you needed peace. you needed him.

knocking on the door, you crossed your arms behind your back, waiting anxiously for the door to open. a few seconds after, the door slowly opened, revealing a disheveled looking Price. his face was bright red, lips glossy. he had no shirt on, but a grey pair of sweats. a part of you felt embarrassed, but a bigger part of you felt a bit of pain, assuming he was just fucking his wife upstairs. "o-oh.. hey kid." he said, clearing his throat. " hi.. John. I guess this was a bad time but I-"

"no.. no its not." he said quickly, shaking his head. "I-i was just.." he pointed his thumb behind him, maintaining eye contact as he tried to find the words. you gave a small, apologetic smile before turning. but he was faster, gripping your wrist and pulling you back. " stay. please." he whispered, looking down at you, his eyes submissive. you swallowed before looking behind him, seeing an empty bottle of whiskey on the table. "isn't.. Mrs. Pri-" "she's not Mrs anymore.." he cut you off, looking away from you.

you felt guilty for bringing up the topic, even more guilty for thinking he was fucking her upstairs instead of you. his grip on you loosened and he backed away. "you don't have to stay.. but i'm assuming your here cause your parents. and you shouldn't.. be around that. you shouldn't be alone.. and I don't wanna be alone anymore either." he said, his words growing breathless towards the end, his eyes moving back to yours. your heart felt heavy for him. he was struggling for God knows how long alone. you gave him a small nod, his hand taking yours before he pulled you gently inside.

the door closed and you looked around the empty home, dishes and beer cans scattered about. "im sorry for the mess I uh.. its been hard to-" "let me help you." you turned to him, looking up at him. his doe eyes pierced into you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. that was all the confirmation you needed before turning back around, grabbing the empty cans and moving towards the kitchen recycling can. " thank you." you heard him say from the living room. "dont mention it. its a good distraction for me anyways." you said, the memory of your parents fighting coming back to you.

"hey.." he said, somehow coming up behind you. you quickly turned, wiping your eyes quickly and giving him a fake smile. his hands cupped your cheeks, his thumbs wiping the tears. " your here now.. safe." he whispered, keeping his eyes on yours. his lips trailed from your eyes to your lips, then back to your eyes. " John.." you whispered, pulling your head out of his grasp. he cleared his throat, stepping back. you both wanted it, bad. but it was wrong. and you both agreed to it, nonverbally of course, but it was an intuition.

" im sorry." you said softly, looking down to your shoes. "dont apologize. you have done nothing wrong." he said, patting your arm before walking away.

the rest of the night you spent in 'your room', reading up the rest of the texts you had for your exams. it was raining pretty hard outside, thundering and lightening. it was peaceful, more peaceful than your home.

stretching, you sat up from your bed and made your way down to the kitchen, hungry. you were sure price was hungry as well so why not make some grilled cheese? as you hummed your way down the hall, you heard what sounded like cries coming from inside John's room. you stopped in your tracks, standing in front of his room. you then heard empty bottles rolling against the floor. sighing, you leaned your head against the door. you didnt know if you should open the door, or stay outside. or just walk away.

but your heart was more powerful than your mind and you couldnt stop your hand from knocking against the door. "John.. can I come in?" you asked softly. when he stopped sniffling, and all you could hear was the empty bottles, you slowly opened the door. in front of you was John, sitting against his wall, tears running down his face with another bottle of whiskey by his side. he wasn't moving, wasn't blinking. just crying.

you slowly approached him, sitting in front of him. you took the bottle, placing it under his bed, out of sight. " can i.. hold your hand?" you asked, looking at his blank face. when he gave you a soft hum, you reached for his hand, cupping it in both of yours. he felt his breathing go from fast to slow, his hooded eyes making his way to yours. "i'm here John.. you don't have to be alone anymore.." you said softly, scooting closer.

for the next hour John spent crying into your chest, apologizing for being drunk around you. " I-im sorry for.. for this. I know drunk p-people probably make you feel-" "stop. you have a valid reason. I understand. id actually prefer being around drunk you than my drunk father anyways.." you said, running your hands through his hair. he held your waist, sniffling every now and then. he was finally calm, finally at peace. he felt safe in your arms and despite how embarrassing it was to be the older person seeking out comfort from the younger, he knew the last thing you'd do was judge him.

"are you hungry?" you asked, realizing John had been playing with the hem of your shirt for a bit. he looked up, his eyes scanning your lips before meeting your gaze. a soft smile was painted across your face, your hands still in his hair. "im.. im sorry." he whispered. before you could ask him what he meant, his lips pressed against yours, his hand slipping around the side of your neck. he poked your lips with his tongue, asking for permission. and you embarrassingly fast let him in.

he shifted so he was sitting now, pulling you onto his lap. his tongue roamed your mouth, occasionally sucking your tongue and earning a moan from you. when he finally pulled away, a short string of saliva connected you two. heavy pants and the sound of rain was all that could be heard as you both stared at each other, waiting for whats next. just as you opened your mouth, he spoke.

"i.. I know you think its because im drunk. but I promise you.. ive wanted to do that for so long." he whispered, eyes going back to your wet lips. " I dream of it, even when she was here. I couldnt bring myself to not think about you when I kissed her. when I fucked her. when I laid beside her. I know I sound like a horrible person, and I know what im risking here saying this to you. but.. but I have a feeling you feel the same about me.." he said softly, his hands holding your hips in place, hoping and praying you wouldn't run away, never speaking to him again. but you wouldn't do that. because you cared about him too much. you wanted this to happen as much as he did and you weren't going to let this moment slip away.

your hands cupped his face before leaning in again, John accepting the kiss before your lips even met. it was a slow, passionate kiss. he pulled you closer into him, moaning into the kiss when you'd pull at his bottom lip. his hands slowly snaked up your shirt, now holding your waist. "I need you.." you breathed against his lips, eyes still closed. it was desperate of you. but you didn't care. seeing how badly he wanted you made you want him even more. you didn't care if she walked in and saw the two of you, told your parents, the whole neighborhood. you guys could run away, live in a different state, a different country even. you guys could be happy. and as much as you wanted that, you knew the right now, this was the best you'd get.

he slowly pulled you off his lap, standing up before lifting you up. he laid you gently on the bed, resting between your legs. his lips attached to yours again, his hand finding your covered breast immediately. your whimpered into the kiss, thrusting your hips up to feel his hard on. his other hand found the side of your face, holding it as to keep you close. his lips moved down to your jaw, then your neck. he was careful to not make too many marks, especially ones to high up. you whimpered at his teeth nibbling your skin, his tongue sliding slowly across the mark to ease the pain. " ive wanted this.. for so long." he Sid against your skin, his hands working to pull down the pajama pants you had put on a while back.

he threw them behind him, not caring where they end up. he sat up, looking down at your panties. a large wet spot shone threw, a breathy chuckle eliciting from him. "is this all for me baby?" he asked, his fingertips ghosting over the spot. you nodded quickly, bucking your hips up. " use your words darling." he said again, looking up at you this time, his fingers still ghosting over the same spot. "y-yes.. yes daddy." his face formed a bright smile before looking back down at your panties, fingers slipping under the hem and pulling them down. "daddy huh? dont think ive ever been called that." his fingers ran up your slit and stopping right before your clit. you groaned at the teasing, trying to move your hips to meet his fingers.

"patience baby.. daddy wants to take his time with you." he said, chuckling at your desperation. nothing was funny to you, but you wanted him do bad, you'd be willing to do anything he asked of you in this moment. his fingers continued to tease you until he slid one inside you for just a second, before quickly pulling it back out. he loved how fast your cunt clenched around his finger, the surprised gasp leaving your lips when he slid it in, then out. "you like that?" he whispered, watching how your pussy clenched every time his finger got close to your hold again. "yes please.. please do it again." you begged from beneath him, eyes pleading with his distracted ones.

he smiled to himself, adding two fingers in at once this time and watching them completely disappear. your head pressed firmly against the pillow, your eyes squeezing shut. he moved his fingers in and out slowly, then fast, analyzing which pace got you reacting to his touch more. when he found it, he continued with it, his eyes finally moving up to your face. your beautiful face. he felt like he had fallen in love all over, watching your face twist in pleasure. it scared him most certainly. he'd spent what felt like years and years in a somewhat loveless marriage. seeing you, your beautiful face, kind personality and hearing your beautiful voice made him scared. scared that if he did commit to you, you both would end up like his marriage.

but now, he couldnt worry about that. your moans and whimpers were too much of a distraction for him to think about anything serious. he wanted to focus on now, and thats what he did. "feel good baby? is daddy making this pussy feel good?" he asked above you, body completely hovering over you as he tilted his head to the side, looking down at you. you nodded, opening your eyes and gripping his shoulders. "s-so good~" you whined, nodding your head quickly. " good girl. such a good girl for me aren't you? gonna cum on daddy fingers huh? gonna show daddy how good you feel?" he asked, his thumb quick to find your clit and moving at the same pace your fingers were.

no matter how hard you tried to talk, his fingers were doing magic on your lower region. you felt a knot forming at the pit of your stomach, your moans increasing in pitch. " I-im gonna cum" you cried out, pulling him down into your chest and hugging his shoulders. he grunted in your ear, keeping the same continuous pace, whispering how beautiful you were, how hes gonna claim your pussy. how hes gonna gonna make love to you, rather than just fuck you. his genuine words, surprisingly, made you finish, your cum soaking both him and his bed sheets. he gasped, peeking down at your cunt as his fingers slowed in pace, listening to the squelching noises your pussy made for him.

he sat up, looking down at the mess beneath you both. he hadn't realized it, but his fingers kept moving in and out of you. it was like he was in a spell, a spell from your pussy. " j-john" you finally called out, getting his attention. he smiled and slid his fingers out, sliding them in his mouth. he hummed around them, causing you to hide your face in your hands. he was quick, however, to remove them. "dont hide from me. I want you to see how good you taste." he said before pressing his lips back onto yours. your own taste flooded your mouth, your hands tangling back into his hair.

at the same time, he began to pull his sweats down, his dick springing free, slapping against his lower stomach. the sound made you pull away and look down. to say you were nervous was an understatement. but he was quick to shut down any worries you had. "im gonna go slow with you.. I promise." he said, lifting your head. he gave another small smile down at you, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes and smiling. it almost slipped from him, but he held back the ' I love you' as he watched you lean into him. his heart was fluttering and he felt like crying all over. happy tears though. because he was truly in love, an the knew that after this, you'd have to go back home. pretend like what happened never happened. at least in front of people. but he didnt want that. he wanted to show the world you were his and he was yours.

he was so deep in thought again, you had wrapped your legs around him to get his attention. "s-sorry. your just so beautiful" he smiled, kissing your forehead before standing from the bed, pulling his sweats and boxers off completely. he was quick to slide back between your legs, his tip hitting your soaked pussy. he looked down, grabbing the base and moving it around your cunt. "shit your fucking drenched honey." he whispered, watching as strings of your wetness rose from you as he lifted his dick away. you whimpered in embarrassment, a bright pink covering your cheeks.

"its sexy." he said, looking into your eyes. he swallowed before looking back down. "like I said, I wanna make love to you. I don't want this to be just us fucking. i.. I see you more than that." he said, his eyes wandering your body nervously before meeting your gaze. you smiled up at him, pulling him closer so your foreheads touched. " then make love to me John." you whispered, looking at him through your lashes.

his lips pressed onto yours, his hands holding onto your hands as he slowly, and carefully, slid into you. it was easy, considering your slick. but it still hurt, the stretching of your walls around his thickness. the moment you let out a pained whimper he stopped, telling you to tell him when you were ready for more. and it did take a while, but he eventually bottomed out inside your cunt, groaning at the warmth and wetness. his head fell into your neck, catching his breath before he tapped your hips. "are you ready for me love?" he asked into your neck, lifting his head to see your face when you answered. when you nodded, giving him a shy 'yes', his hips moved out, slow, and back in, slow.

at first it hurt. yes, you had small flings in college, and you had definitely told him about them before you figured out how in love with him you were. but never had they meant a lot to you. you are drunk for most of them, causing you to regret not waiting for the right guy which, in this case, would be John. you looked up at him, his bottom lip between his teeth as his browns knitted together. he let out soft grunts with every thrust, a breath after a few more. he looked beautiful, so handsome.

" darling s-stop looking up at me before i.. I finish too soon." he breathed out, looking into your eyes finally. you blushed and looked down to where your bodies connected. the sight alone made you clench around him, a whimper slipping past you. your hands found his neck, your eyes squeezing shut. his thrusts remained pretty slow, causing you to buck your hips up. "faster.. please." you whispered, opening your eyes to see his already on you. "anything for my princess." he responded, kissing your forehead as his thrusts picked up in pace. he wasn't going super fast, but he was going at a decent speed.

whimpers slipped past you with each thrust of his, your head falling back into the pillow. his name, and a few daddy's, slipped past your lips every so often, encouraging him to keep going. " f-fuck princess you're.. you're so tight" he groaned, his breathing picking up in pace. his grunts slowly turned into moans and you had assumed he was close. he took one leg and wrapped it around his waist, allowing deeper access into your cunt. his tip every so slightly hit your cervix, emitting more moans from you.

you hadn't realized it at first, but your nails dug into his back, leaving both crescent marks and scratches. and he fucking loved it. it was your way of marking his body, what was yours. he wanted more. " fuck baby.. mark me. I-im all yours~" he moaned, his head dropping into your chest as his thrusts began to become a bit more fast. he was certainly close, and you were too. " John im gonna cum" you moaned, leg tightening around his waist.

his breathing grew rapid, his head raising to look down at you with hooded eyes. his hands gripped the side of your neck, his other around your hip. he felt his dick pulse inside you, scared of cumming inside you, but also hoping you'd let him. "inside me.. please" you whimpered out, sensing his worry. he gave out a quiet whimper, his eyes squeezing shut.

it was perfect, your bodied moving together. and what made it even more perfect was the fact you both were going to cum, together. it was beyond romantic and made the feelings between you both even stronger. he opened his eyes, feeling as though he couldnt hold back any longer. he didnt know what had came over him, if it was your pussy, the alcohol, or just his emotions, but he couldnt stop the words from flowing out.

" fuck princess I-im cumming- fuck I love you.. oh I fucking..love. you!" he groaned, the last few words accompanied with a powerful thrust. his cum shot into you, a loud groan and a gasp escaping him. his grip on you tightened, his eyes watching as your cum shot out of you as well, mixing with his.

his eyes fluttered closed, his body falling onto you. you looked up at the ceiling, breathing hard as you just recalled what he had admitted to you. 'he loves me..?' you though, your chest feeling heavy, but a good heavy.

he eventually rose up, swallowing as he looked down at you. "I-im sorry im probably still drunk I didnt mean-" your lips slammed against his, discontinuing the sentence he had planned. " I love you to John." you said against his lips. you felt the smile spread across his lips as he moved back down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into him.

the rest of the night you both spent cuddling, watching tiktoks on your phone. when you eventually dozed off, he placed your phone on the charger, went to use the bathroom one last time before coming back next to you. he pulled you into his chest, spooning you. he kissed your bare shoulders, whispering 'I love you' after each peck. he was happy. he didnt worry too badly about what could happen. he was happy now. and he wanted to stay that way forever.

| aghhh after serious writers block I give you guys this. this was a lot more cute than my other ones so I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I did |

#call of duty x reader #call of duty fan fiction #cod x reader #cod #captain price smut #captain price #john price smut #captain john price

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cherubispunk · 4 months

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BARK! BITE! BLEED! (PART I) - FWB!Frankie Morales x AFAB!Reader

summary: being without is always easier when you don't know what it is to be 'with'.

a note from Lucy: heyyyy! hows it going? yes...im back with another series. Those of you waiting for cherub, its coming. I promise. hand over my heart and the other on the bible. but words have a funny habit of not wording so...tale please take the humble peace offering of slutty fwb!frankie and please dont bite my fingers off.

playlist | moodboard

wc: 5742 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! no use of y/n, slight noncon voyeurism, thin appartment walls, mentions of cheating, obsessive behaviour, frankie is obsessed and it is very unhealthy, toxic relationships, heavy religious imagry (come on, is this even a surpise when it comes to my writing?), age gap but not bombastic sorry chloe (reader is 21, Frankie is 27) - though not mentioned in this part, graphic smut, could be considered dubcon, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (do i need to spell it out to you not to do this?), creampie, biting, its not vore!!!! but there is something inherrently sexual in the themes of metaphorical consumption, softdom!frankie, scratching, gore imagry in the sense of a hunter prey type of thing? More of lu being dell, batshit insane, blurting words onto a google doc and praying ot makes ense when being blasted out into the void.

series m.list | m.list

“At the end of the day, a dog that’s all bark and no bite is merely a bitch. True power lies in those who don't just bare their teeth, but make you bleed when they sink in.”

Frankie was a quiet man. He would always keep to himself. Never usually stuck his nose in anyone's business unless it was for their own good. Stayed in the four walls of his own apartment he rented close to the barracks. He’d made one friend in the entire complex. You. His next-door neighbour. The only thing he knew before prying was your last name on the buzzer out front. From there it was waiting. And watching. Frankie had an obsession with observing you from his kitchen window every time you came home from work at the bar. Stood in the shroud of shadow and sheer curtain. He dug his claws in and clung to each passing conversation in the hallway, or the laundromat down the street whenever coincidence let you pop up there too. Stored each part of you that you trusted him with in his mind for safekeeping. Often caught himself staring at a particular pair of red lace panties whenever you did your laundry.

There was one small, tiny little problem in all of this, however. Lisa. He supposed he should thank her really, because without her, he would have never moved out of the barracks in the hope of starting a life for them. He would have never met you. It was convenient, reasonably priced and he could excuse poor plumbing and heating for the fact it was close enough to his work that he didn't have to wake up any earlier than 5:30. But Lisa…oh, Lisa was Machiavelian. A conniving woman, with her heart set in thick ice, and a cold, unforgiving grip over what was hers. It made him wonder what he saw in her in the first place. Maybe he was blinded to everything but the curve of her face, or the pout of her mouth and the pant of his name as it passed her parted lips. Or there was some morbid fascination he had with her teeth as they bared to his skin and bit down. Tearing him to shreds. Either way, there was something to live for when being ripped apart by her. Something to distract from the sounds of pleasure that seeped through paper thin walls at night. Your pleasure. At the hands of a man he felt nothing compared to and knew nothing about. So he’d roll over and fuck out his frustration on the woman he hated but chose to stay with until she left him for another.

Another day, another ache. Another pain cramping in his lower back as Frankie inched closer to thirty and still no happier. Twenty-seven, a stable-ish job…and what else in life to show for it? He was bitter. In no place to want the company of another unless only for the night. Except tonight he was alone again, pressing his key into the lock, twisting it open, closing the door behind him. And then waiting…listening. Anticipating the drag of his hand south over the plane of his abdomen to under his boxers where he’d tease himself to the sound of you with another man. The pretty whimpers you’d let slip under the weight of another man's skin and bone, and the pleasure flooding the gaps of your synapses.

Only this time there were no cries for more. No whimpers, or moans. No. These sounds were shouts. And anger ignited you as you rampaged through your apartment on the other side of the wall, getting dressed as Mark, the man you’d wasted months on, chased after you in pursuit of your forgiveness.

“Who do you think I am?’ Frankie heard through the wall, pressing his ear to cold plaster with bated breath. Your voice was shrill, seething with the intent to carve into Mark’s skin with an onslaught of verbal mutilation. Have the words mark him with bleeding, weeping shame. “No, really? You think I’d never figure it out, Mark? Am I naïve to you?”

He slipped out of bed with careful stealth: Followed the sound of your voice through the wall, walking with his ear pressed to it before the sound of your front door opening made him jump, stepping back for a second. He blinked, once, twice…then raised his hands to plaster again and leaned closer, ears straining to hear what was now distance shrieking from the hallway outside. Which he followed to his front door. Listening intently behind the wood.

As he held his breath until his lungs burned in his chest, something flared up in Frankie. A desperate, wanting, starving need to swoop in. Be your knight in shining armour. The words were stuck in his throat, and if he wasn’t careful, they would choke him blue. But if he knew even a shred about you, it was that you’d hate that just as much as whatever it was Mark had done to you to have you tossing him out in the early evening. You were a private person. A woman who never appreciated prying ears or eyes. You avoided all his questions about your past whenever he asked. Swerved him off topic and into the hedgerow before he had a chance to blink and realise he had the backhand of whiplash. And if he let it slip once that the walls were thin, there was no telling where your quick mind would jump to next. Frankie never knew why or what made you so guarded. But he imagined one day you bit the hand of god and he stopped feeding you.

Frankie’s heart was thumping to the beat of his anxiety in his throat, making it harder to swallow the lump it formed, clammy palms pressed to the cool wood with the rest of him.

“You’re a sick man!” He heard, followed by a thumping of something being thrown, then a yelp out of Mark as Frankie guessed he was dodging whatever it was you threw his way. Shoes, maybe? Something else? “A coward! So get out. Don't call. Don’t come knocking. And tell your fucking wife!”

A shuffling of ashamed feet. A slam of your front door. Clattering around behind shared walls. Then silence.

It was five minutes of silence. But it felt like the seconds within those intervals were put on the rack and stretched in torture. Five minutes that he should have used to step back from his door but didn't. He just prayed there was more of you to have to himself for a second.

Then the descent of knuckles came beating down on his door. Causing his heart to jolt out in his chest then plummet into his stomach. Twisting his insides into knots that made him sick with intrigue. He took a step back. And a breath. Then waited a second before opening the door to find you stood there in a silly little lace hemmed tank top and sleep shorts. Your hair dishevelled and cheeks flushed. He opened his mouth to speak, but found the words stuck to the backs of his teeth and the roof of his mouth like soggy, claggy toffee. So he shut up, grateful you cut him off first.

“We’re having a bonfire. So whatever shit Lisa left here, bring it with you. My door will be open. I’ll be on my balcony.” And you left him with nothing but that. Stomping back down the hall in a flurry of your anger.

Frankie stood there, feet practically glued to the floor, fingers curling in on his palms as his blunt nails pressed into already calloused flesh. And an image of you, teeth bared to him like Lisa’s once were, appeared in his mind. An apparition of hurt, torment and his own vulnerability. But it was too late. His feet moved before his mind could and he was already collecting the things of his ex-girlfriend who had wronged him time and time again, stuffing them into his arms in a bundle of broken memory, anguish and lingering hurt.

He found you standing by a metal bin of a man's belongings. The odd t-shirt, pictures of your face next to his, smiles happy and bright with the joy of a relationship you never expected to cave in. In your hand was a packet of cigarettes you'd told him in the passing of a hallway’s conversation that you’d quit, but evidently not. And a crumpled, misshapen box of matches. In the other was a bottle of Whiskey. The brand Mark insisted on liking and you’d bought him for a birthday present. A present he’d never receive because he was as dead to you as the day was long.

“I thought you quit.” He said, trying to start a conversation that hit a dead end pitifully quickly.

“Toss it on.” You mumbled dismissively with a jerk of your head to the pile, eyes glued to Mark’s belongings, washing down your bitter words with an even more bitter swig of drink.

Frankie complied wordlessly from there, dumping the contents of his arms on top of the photos and clothes, stepping back while you poured a generous amount of the liquor on top. A seasoning of fuck you not farewell to the people you’d shared your life with and would thankfully never cross paths with again. He took the bottle from you when you pressed it into his chest, taking a drink and grimacing at the taste. It wasn't smooth. It was almost sour, with a kickback that burned too much to be pleasurable as it passed down the column of his throat in a thick swallow. His thoughts trickled in from there as he read the label and glanced at you. He wanted to get you drunk. Get you to slip up. Let yourself be taken for once.

You both watched, deadfaced, as you struck a match, used it to light a cigarette and then tossed it in the bin as memories curled up under heat. The alcohol setting the blaze up in a satisfying roar of good riddance.

He thought it was a little strange. How you’d come to him. Yes, you were friends. But the type of friend that only ever conversed between life events. In the empty limbo of hallways and laundromats. Not burning things on your balcony in the hope the heat will melt your heart back together, It was a little late for that. Stone doesn’t melt. And the two of you had hearts of set concrete from the turn of events you’d experienced. Encased in the cage of bone that would no longer open to another unless broken in two and forced apart. So you slid down the brick wall, knees bent to your chest while you smoked. The flame flickering a violent xanthous, ochre and scarlet.

He joined you on the floor, passing back the bottle. The two of you side by side, and it only just occurred to Frankie how lonely he was now. But how terrified of intimacy he was. Intimacy of a level deeper than skin/ The both of you wordless, silent as the decaying dead of night. Only the crackle of fire between you and a sniff for your nose as the evening air nipped it and made it run. So to distract yourself, you condemned your tongue to bad liquor, chasing it with a drag of your cigarette and a grimace,

“God, this is shit.” You scoffed.

“Not a hard liquor gal?” He chuckled, turning his head to glance at you out the corner of his eyes before the flame had his eyes attention again.

“More of a wine person, really. But even I can tell this is shit.” And you gestured to the bottle in your hand, reading over the label and sighing.

“Yeah,” he sighed, inflicting another taste upon himself when he took it out of your grasp. “It is.”

Silence again. Not awkward for you who preferred your own company to others, but for him, who had been watching you begging for an in, it was clawing at his insides like a starved animal would at the walls of its enclosure.

“So…” He drew out, and you had to bite back an amused smile.

“What?”

Frankie found himself staring in trance at your side profile, with the same fascination you honed in on the flickering flame. He thought in silence for a second. Asking himself the same question.

"How long did you date Mark for?" He asked. The name made him grimace as if it tasted sour in his mouth. Like he had to spit it out with disgust in every syllable for fear of it burning.

"Six months." Another awkward, off beat pause followed as he nodded. Then asked again.

“Did you love him?”

"No." You said flat out. But your words were honest and brutal to the man you let in then kicked out.

Frankie found himself suffocating a sigh of relief in his own ribs. They pinched slightly with an attempt of something profound to be felt. Like a child who had stumbled upon a strangely twisted shell at the beach. "Have you ever loved anyone?"

You turned to him, tilting your head. But Frankie couldn't tell if it was annoyance or respect for the bravery he had on asking you such personal questions. "What is this? Keeping Up With The Kardashians?"He held up his hands in quick defence, backing down.

“I’m just trying to get to know you.”

"There isn't anything to know except for the fact I'm pissed off." You muttered. “And I figured you would be too, considering the argument I heard a couple nights ago through the wall of my kitchen."

Frankie felt his face go pale, then heat up in the apples of his cheeks. "Oh. So you heard that?" The way your cigarette smouldered as you spoke was the only movement on the narrow balcony. So you did know the walls were thin. It made him wonder what else you knew. If you knew how he strained to listen through plaster and drywall each night.

"Oh, I heard it alright.” You smirked, finding sick pleasure in the way he seemed to squirm. “Something about Lisa finding you...'dull behind the eyes'." Frankie watched as you rolled your eyes and doubled back on your standing in the argument, "If you're going to insult someone, at least be creative about it. ``Give them a good reason to cut it loose." You were like a pendulum to him. But one that spun in clockwise, then anticlockwise circles, instead of oscillating back and forth. Unpredictable in a way that both horrified and intrigued him.

"Dull?" He had to laugh in disbelief, "I am not dull."

You smiled to yourself at that, leaning your head back against the brickwork. Ready to shatter his lie with a flick of your sharp tongue. "You are dull, Frankie. You get up. Go to work. Come back. You do your laundry every Sunday— and I know that because so do I. Your car is always in the exact same spot next to mine. Without fail. Now, you can put all down to ‘strict military regime’, but the bitter truth is," You looked him in the eye, your cig hanging from your lips as you showed him the satisfied grin pulling at your mouth, "you are dull. We all are. We work, we grind, we cry because we work. You ache to the marrow and you get stabbed in the back. And you're begging on your damn knees to bite the hand that feeds you. But if you do, then you starve.”

Frankie had never had his own fear served to him by such a beautiful devil before. And he wished, with all he had left in him that Lisa hadn’t taken or ruined, that you were wrong. It made him want to cave into himself to protect what little he had left. Snarl like a wounded bitch as he held back from others to lick his wounds. Maybe offer it to you and beg you to take it off his hands. But how could he argue when you were practically holding up a mirror to his own eyes? "I hate that you're right." He said in solemn downcast bereavement. And watched the cloud of smoke float silently in front of your face to obscure the very mouth that let him have it in such careful, exact slicing words. The blade of your knife was sharpened to a paper thin point. Now stained with his body’s red.

"There are very few things I'm wrong about. Regardless of that, it's a simple formula and easy to understand.”

“And what is it?” He asked, but regretted it for he knew his heart might not be able to take much more. Not that he showed it. This whole exchange his brow hadn’t folded into a single crease.

“Two things in life are certain: Death. And taxes. You work to pay your taxes, and you die from working."

"That's a pretty pessimistic way of looking at things."

"Life is pessimistic." You shot back with amusement, intently staring in a fixed trance at the pile of burning memories. The last warmth it offered was metaphorically and literally its own destruction. Irony, as Frankie pointed out to himself in his crawling mind. "It crucifies you, and burns you...until you curl in on yourself at the corners and turn to ash."

The conversation had reached a level of solemnity he hadn’t expected, but he’d be a liar if he didn't admit to sinking his claws in yet again. His teeth might come next if you gave him the sweet chance.

You were quiet after that. Both of you were. The remnants of a fire that symbolised how Mark was no longer relevant in your life, and neither Lisa in his. If he thought Lisa was machiavellian, the word had new meaning now. But like with her, it drew him in and snared him into blissful trance. It was the type of blind faith you pin to a deity in the sky. The type that you never see but are forced and gaslit into believing because it's shoved down your throat from a young age. You were not his savour. He knew that in the pit of his very existence, the eye of the storm in his gut.

He would be crucified by you.

“You’re a real ray of sunshine, you know that?”

"Aw." You pouted in mock appreciation, pressing a hand to your chest. "Thank you."

Frankie afforded himself the pleasure of laughing at that. As cynical as it all was, it was real. You had just dared to say the quiet hushed parts out loud for him to digest. Though he felt like he was choking on it more than swallowing it. Regardless, he pushed it down to find confidence in himself and prod further.

“You keep doing that.”

“What?” “That.” Frankie pointed to all of you with a gesture absent of any direction, as if it was obvious. He watched as you tilted your head and scrunched your face a little. That crease in your brow…how it would haunt him in future. He felt like the prey. He was torn between wanting you to hunt him slowly so he could feel something at your hand, agony or not. Or asking you to do it quickly so he doesn't have to pursue through the bitter aftertaste.

“I’m not following.”

“You do this thing…where you turn conversations on their head. I feel like I'm getting whiplash.” He forced out a chuckle to make it seem like he was playing through with humour. But his words were genuine under the lace disguise of jest. You really did confuse him. You had his string of thought in knots. Complicated ones. “Why?”

Your eyes narrowed at the question. “You’re trying to figure me out.”

“Why shouldn’t i?”

"Because I'm not the distraction you need." You bit, almost like a warning. And Frankie would have listened if he wasn't so hellbent on breaking in. No matter how hostile, how feral, he'd take the time to tame the caged, battered, abused animal.

“Maybe not.” He agreed, twisting his upper body to face you. It’s important to understand that what Frankie felt wasn’t love. At least, not how he’d experienced it in the past. This was an infatuation birthed by the fruit of lust forbidden to act upon until now. “But you’re the one I want.” With those words came a darkness in his eyes. The kind that reminded you of floods and tempests in biblical art. You were that tempest, with swollen grey clouds and a hammering of thunder ringing in his ears. Laughing as you crashed him onto rocks while he swam helplessly with little energy to the shore. Only to be shoved back with another crushing wave that cut through flesh and met bone with a chill like ice. “Just because we’re sad and miserable, doesn’t mean we have to give up a good time.” His instincts were buried before. Rolling in their grave at the chance to touch you. So he pressed his palms to the lid of the coffin and pushed. Reaching out to trace a delicate line along the angle of your jaw. His eyes were drawn to the soft plush of your lips and how they parted ever so slightly. “I want a distraction, baby.”

He had you where he wanted you. And the liquor mixing thick with your blood had inhibition slipping through your fingers. His breath was hot on your lips. Needy to be paid attention to.

“Would it be worth my while?” You challenged, ignoring eye contact for now. Instead looking to his lips for the lies.

“You don’t think I could satisfy you?” He smirked, lifting your chin with a single thick finger curled underneath and the pad of his thumb swiping slowly over your bottom lip. “I’ll do better than anyone else could.”

“Sounds like an awful lot of confidence you have there. At the end of the day, a dog that’s all bark and no bite is just a bitch.”

Frankie chuckled at that. A deep rumble that rattled the bones that protect the hollow hole in his chest. “Come on…let me have a taste.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He took the silence and the glimmer of ‘i dare you’ in your eyes, pressing his lips to yours to consume you. Devour you whole. They took their time in sinking together and suctioning your lower lip into his mouth. Then his tongue dared to venture forward past parted lips to lick into your mouth and taste the backs of your teeth.

First, you let go of trepidation to take a hold of him. The roots of his hair and the back of his neck, fingers curled like talons. After, you let go of all else. The thoughts scratching the back of your skull, the headache that blistered before by the inferno calmed down and you were forced to focus on him alone as he took a handful of your hips and lifted you up to his lap to roll into him like a steady tide.

You pulled him by the collar of his shirt to your room, clothes left in a scattered flurry along the way. Breadcrumbs to pick up later and either regret or laugh at. He unhinged your jaw to let slip your airy moan as his hands travelled south to meet the seam of your cunt. All else fell into place when he circled your clit with two fingers to start the first loop of the knot in your belly. A warmup for the act of sin, and need, and wanting. Whatever god there was should have never been prayed to in the first place. And Frankie knew it now that he was damned to hell from the first parting of your thighs for his wandering hand. His teeth were ready for sinking as he gathered your legs and hooked them over his shoulders to walk open mouthed, spit decorated kisses down the trunk of your navel. Pressing his nose into your mound. The must of your cunt making his eyes light up as he stared at the bob of your throat when you swallowed sharply. Head rolled back to the pillow. His tongue glided into your folds for the first lick. Making a hot wet stripe of a path from your asshole to your clit. He used the tip of his tongue to circle it and glide lover to curl into your quivering hole. Drawing out the taste. The beckoning gesture of his tongue gathering your taste in his senses. A thumb following suit to roll the bud of your clit under it, his nose clumsy as it bumped into it too. Obsessing over the tang of your arousal, thick in shine over his lips the scruff of his chin.

Your thighs clamped over his ears that were red. The heat made your own skin burn. Dark curls of his hair whispering against their insides as he continued to devour you from the seam. And your orgasm– it burned bright after the first fizzle. Made your eyes scrunch closed as he pulled it from you with hand and tongue. What was used for his words had yours spilling from parted lips like a puppet. A vessel for him to carry pleasure through. It had you toppling over into oblivion. The abyss.

With bones brittle and hollowed like a bird you were fine to be dead weight as he ascended your body again. Folding you in half with your legs still bent over his shoulders. He traced the jut of your collarbone with the blunt edges of his teeth. How he wished they’d be sharp to sink deeper. But you were grateful as it would be easier for him to not draw blood and see the inside of you ran red like all the others. It was easy to not be human. It was easy to not show emotion and weakness.

“Feel that?’ he panted against your goosebump pebbled skin, and you nodded. You did. It was the promise to feel desired and not broken. And not maimed beyond repair by another person you let in. Another person you built yourself up to prepare to love, to only have the rug pulled from under your feet and the brickwork clatter to the ground. It was the same promise to him. And the desire that ran thick in his blood made his pulse thrum heavy under its weight. Its intrusion hot under his lust scorched skin.

“Yeah.”

“Imma make it go away for you, baby.” he promised with a kiss to the hollow of your throat below its column, between your clavicle. And it was anything but empty. It was full. And round, and swollen with something deeper in his ribs that ached to be let loose. Breathed to fill you too. “I’ll make it all go away.”

His hips pressed flush to yours and the drag of neatly groomed hair sent a shockwave through your clit and up your rattling spine. Vertebrae by vertebrae. Setting off blazing fireworks in your mind for just a second before he started a slow drag. It was a stretch that stung. But pain was comfort if it had pleasure hot on its heels like an obedient dog. Ironic how you feared men like him, who seemed so eager to please and let themselves in uninvited. But you took it willingly this time because you needed to forget for a single second about the heart that bled under flesh and bone in the cage of your ribs.

His cock was thick, full and curved up into the part of you that you couldn't have reached even if you tried. He slotted into your heat like he was meant to stay there. And that alone made you want to scream for him to give in and not relent so you could be ignorant to the way it seemed divine. The roll of his hips kicked up in pace and soon he was hunched over you. Strong arms rippled with muscle from brutal training since the age of eighteen bracing himself on either side of your head. The feeling of him curling his hips into you made you burn. It sent a tumble of a moan from your lips through the breathless pant of his name. A name he never thought you'd call in the tangle of your sheets. But the burning need to give you what he had wanted all this time ate at him. It ripped the flesh fresh off his bone and left him bleeding into you.

Frankie’s eyes misted over when the chain that hung from his neck slipped over your chin and you bought the metal of his dog tags between your teeth. Biting down. It feels better biting down anyway. And the cool of the metal on your hot tongue made your head swim. Looking him in his eyes and daring him deeper. So his lips pressed into a firm line, and your nails raked down his back to leave raised red lines in their wake. Tracing new paths over the old map of scar tissue. Marking new land and territory. The air between you hung heavy with the heat of exhales. And blew with the shared moan you indulged in when it coiled in your belly. The cradle of your hips accommodated his cock as it stretched the tightness of your walls. Your slick arousal giving way to fluidity of otherwise rabid motion. Starving.

When on his tongue, you were alive. Inside you he breathed again with the clutch of your cunt around him. Warm and beating, and thrumming quickly like a hummingbird's wings. A squatter temporarily camped up in the crack between two ribs. Where thick muscle shuddered with breath. You believed something in you was worth loving. But you also knew for it to be found you'd have to be flayed alive.

The crash of his hips into yours aided in the symphony of sex, and filled the four walls painted but void of personal belongings. If he were on the other side of them he'd be jealous. But now he was here, he was alive. Beating hearted and thriving. And any god, saint, angel or divinity could watch and weep as he finally had what he wanted. What he might have needed in order to restore his humanity that lay dormant for so long. He was trying to crack you open so he could lick up what lay inside you. Gather it up in his arms like the greedy wolf, lambs gore, blood and flesh, between fangs of his lower jaw. Have the muscle pulsing between his teeth. But he wouldn't. So for now he'd settle for the flesh on show. The mound of your panting breast that he pressed into his open mouth. The flat of his tongue pressing greedily to your nipple. Before his lips pinched together and pulled the left pert. Switching to do the same for the right. Not leaving an inch of you untouched. Because he had his chance now. And who knew when he'd get another. So he relished in what he was spared and he would take it with him to the grave. Dream of it on his deathbed if this killed him. Or if something else did. Regardless. This would run through his mind until his last heavy and troubled breath.

“That's it.” he murmured into your breast. “Take it. Take it, baby. Take me..”

Your back arched, strung tight like a bow ready to fire. Spine curled up into the heat of his mouth and he bit down again on the swell of your breast. Wanting to take its entire weight into his mouth and have it rot and smear into his tongue. The fizzle of nerve endings reached the tips of your curling toes. The heels of your feet digging into the planes of his scapula to press him closer in the burning of your young orgasm.

“Come on. Let me see you come.” Frankie demanded in a breathless growl as he stared you down with his eyes. The hue of his irises almost devoured by black of pupil. Your jaw unhinged to let rip a silent scream. Feeling that sharp coil snap, and a numbness fill your aching core before your toes curl in pleasure. He helped you ride it out with his cock fucking into your tight weeping cunt while you sang out his name in a chorus of moans, whimpers and cries. Letting go utterly as a rush filled you, lighting you up like dry kindling under your skin. The pulsating of your walls around his length had his hips faltering for just a moment, twitching within your sopping cunt. His head fell into the crook of your neck as he let out a deep guttural groan, closing in on skin with teeth again. Spilling inside you, the mix of your slick with his cum painting you white like the searing heat of pleasure between you. He leaves the last of his load with you by fucking it deeper. Three, sharp, punctuated thrusts.

He lay flat above you while he awaited the comedown from his catharsis. The tingle down his spine sputtered out in a haze of slowburn afterglow. Eyes closed and face buried into the crook of your perspiring neck. Panting together. Hit tongue forgot for a second to shape your name the way it sounded, but with a sharp inhale, the air surged his mind.

“I suppose this is the part where I leave?” He mumbled, pulling back from your skin. His time had come and ended. The two of you now sat back to the world of hallway and laundromat limbo. He sighed through his nose when you nodded. And he did the same, pressing his lips into a thin line.

Frankie gathered his clothes up, putting them on slowly one by one. Drawing out the ache of being alone again by lingering in your presence.

“Come back tomorrow.” You said. Not asked. He nodded, still facing the door. Then twisted the handle and left an empty space in your apartment where he had once been.

#pedro pascal #triple frontier #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fic #frankie morales smut #frankie triple frontier #frankie morales fanfic #bark!bite!bleed!

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coral-melon · 3 months

Text

Deafening Silence

Obey me! MC

Genre: Quiet Horror, angst, Crack

No pronouns used

900+ words

Author’s note: Im so mad, I finally I had an Obey me dream, and it was horrifying one.. for me at least! But either way, I thought it would make a good enough story to slowly start coming back since I’ve been doing a bad job! >;D👍✨

Enjoy!

You were chilling in your room doing your own thing, but you were waiting for one of the brothers to come by since it’s a normal for you to never have any sort of personal space.

3.. 2.. 1.. and blam,

There Mammon comes in, with an awkward, frantic expression on his face.

“Yo, MC! Cover for me, will ya? Don’t tell Lucifer I’m here..!” He says as he comes in, then crouching to hide under your bed. The stupidest idea ever if your trying to hide from someone like Lucifer.

But just as he was about to hide, you notice a very particular bottle in his hand. It was one of Lucifer’s Demonus! ( ╯°□° )

You jump out of your bed, completely and utterly dumbfounded, “How the hell did you get that?!”

“Shh! He gave it to me, don’t blow my cover!” He says before weaseling his way under your bed. ‘Yeah right, you wouldn’t be hiding if he just gave it to you!’

You were about to do something about it, but your thoughts were thrown right out the window when you heard a knock on your door. You felt your soul almost leave your body when you saw the small shadow underneath the door crack.

By this point, you can tell which brother it is by simply looking there. And this was none other than Lucifer. But also, he was pretty much the only one with the common decency to knock..

“C-Come in..!” You say, sounding slightly high pitched. You quickly try to gather your composure though..

The door creaks open to reveal Lucifer with an irritated expression on his face. “Did Mammon come in here by any chance?” He asks, but something about his tone suggested that he already knew the answer to that.

“…No, I haven’t..” Yet for some reason you lie…

Lucifer’s gaze pierced through you, it was only for a couple of seconds, but they felt agonizingly long. “Mind if I ask what happened this time..?” You ask out of pure anxiety.

Lucifer sighs and punches the bridge of his nose, “I was curious and put him to the test to see if he’d blatantly have the sheer audacity to steal one of my Demonus bottles..” he pauses for a moment, taking a closer look around your room.

“What a moron… Want to to help you get it back? I got a bone to pick with him anyway..”

“No, no.. that won’t be necessary, he’ll come back eventually. Besides, he didn’t take any of the valuable ones. I replaced it with water, you see.” He chuckles under his breath with a shit eating grin on his face.

You honestly had to hold your laugh, but you could just imagine the expression Mammon must have right now…

“But do tell me if you see him around, I’ve got a couple of things I’d like to tell him.” He says.

“Got it.” You nod, a creeping smile still on your face.

He gently closes the door behind him, and the both of you wait until you can no longer hear his footsteps. Mammon then crawls out from under the bed with the dumbest look on his face. You could help but burst out laughing.

“Dammit.. No wonder it was too easy. C-Could you not laugh at me?! This is already bad enough as it is..!” He yapped.

“Ah.. Sorry, sorry. This is way too funny though.. Again?! I bet he was directly talking to you too! You should just stop avoiding the inevitable and come clean.” You say as you wipe away a tear from your eyes.

“C’mon MC, you gotta bail me out somehow..!” He pleads.

Your eyebrows frown slightly, “And how am I supposed to do that? It’s already bad enough that I lied about you not being here..”

“I dunno! B-But he listens to you, so make something up..! I’ll make it up to you, I promise ya!”

You were skeptical by his words, but you felt bad for him with those puppy eyes that he was giving you. “Argh.. fine. But I won’t promise you anything.”

“That’s my Human! I knew I could count of ya!”

You then grab him by the ear, “We’re going now though.”

“What?! But—!”

“No buts. The faster we get over this, the better.”

…• • •

Both you and Mammon stand in front of Lucifer’s doorstep. Kinda hesitantly to knock but it’s for the best..

You gently knock and after a few seconds, you could hear soft steps getting closer and closer to you two. Mammon tries to sneak away, but you already yanked him by the collar. He helps yelps when you do so.

The door then slowly creaked open, revealing a serious yet cold expression on Lucifer’s face. But it softens up into a smirk when he sees the utterly defeated Mammon along side you.

“Hello again! I got your.. pfft. Water bottle back.”

He chuckles lightly, his eyes quickly shifted to Mammon after taking the glass bottle. Mammon, meanwhile, tried to force a smile, but it was clear that his anxiety was still getting to him. It was obvious, as he was fiddling with his hands. His eyes darted from you to Lucifer, back and forth again.

A slight hint of amusement could be noticed in his eyes. It was obvious that him getting his bottle back put both him, and Mammon, at ease. However, he didn’t have much sympathy for Mammon.

“Good, now there’s nothing for you to stress about! So Mammon and I will just go and leave you be—!”

— “No, No.. that’s okay. I have a couple of matters to resolve with Mammon.” Lucifer interrupts you, the smile on his face was no where near comforting.. Dang, you’re gonna have to face him head on.

Mammon flinched and quickly hid behind you. “H-Hey, c’mon now..! I swear he’s sorry and has learned his lesson! …I think. He wouldn’t be standing in front of your door if that wasn’t the case!”

His eyes narrow, “Don’t speak for him. He’s perfectly able to talk himself.”

“Oof, I guess you’re own you own on this one Mammon..” Mammon gulped hard, as he seemed to be getting scared all over again, for a split second he thought he was in the clear. “Just be honest with him. You’re already in big trouble as it is, so might as well.” You pat him in the back.

Mammon, kept choking on his words, before finally speaking up. “W..Well.. I-If I gotta be honest.. I-I thought I'd be able to hide it from you! I-I figured I could get away with it..”

“Pfft. Well, you thought wrong, and where did that get you?” Lucifer said sternly.

Mammon pretty much had his tail between his legs, you felt bad for the idiot.. “…Any chance you could go easy in him?” You reluctantly ask.

His glare then shot over to you, “Hah! And why would I do that?”

“I-I dunno..! But it’s not like any of your brutal punishments make him learn his lesson. M-Maybe you’re going about it the wrong way..?” At this point, you just felt like each word that kept coming out of your mouth only made you keep burying yourself further more into a grave. You were on thin ice and testing his patience.

Lucifer crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Are you questioning me..?” his voice was cold and dug daggers at you. Yep, real thin ice.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him anymore. And your mind goes blank. “N-No no! That’s not it at all! I-I just.. think another method should be used.. I-I mean… think about it! Do you really think it’s alright to hang someone upside down for hours on end? The guy barely has any braincells working already and you wanna make him lose more?”

—“Hey!” Mammon yelps.

Lucifer pauses for a moment, “And what is it that you suggest I do then, hm?”

You scatter though your head with any potential ideas, but in a panic, the first thing that came to mind was what you spat out without thinking. “Psychological..?” You shrugged, but then was hit with the realization of your words.

Lucifer gaze becomes unfocused for a spit second, his hand reached his chin as he seemed lost in thought. A devious expression shows up on his face as he pondered over all the new endless possibilities.

He then lets out a chuckle, Mammon was an incredibly stubborn and slow demon, so making him suffer mentally would probably be the best course of action.. Lucifer seemed intrigued, as his eyes widened. Mammon, however, started sweating. He knew nothing good would come of this.. his eyes narrowed slightly and he looked over at Mammon. “I guess I'll just have to mess with his head, then..”

“Oh shit…”

Lucifer yanks Mammon out of your side and simply looked back at you with a content smile. “Thank you for such a lovely suggestion, MC. I assure you.. after tonight, Mammon will never dare steal from me again.”

Your heart sank when he uttered those words. “No wait! I-I was just kidding—!” Lucifer’s door slams shut, its sound echoed through the vast halls. Hearing Mammon’s cries was even worse.

You banged on the door, but Lucifer obviously didn’t open. “Mammon! I’m so sorry! I’ll make it up to you after this is over, I promise!! Stay strong!” You shout from the other side of the door..

And so, with a heavy heart, you return to your room..

• • •

Time had passed, and the next day came around. You could barely get a wink of sleep with the sense of guilt eating away at you..

The House of Lamentation had woken up once more, but there was a sense of unease around the entire area. Things seemed off, and it was hard to determine what it was.. The halls felt eerie, and everything seemed strangely quiet. There was no one roaming around, and it even seemed like Satan or Beel weren’t even around — the both of them are usually the first ones already up roaming around right about now... This place was too still for it to not feel wrong.

You walked to Mammon’s room, to check that he was still alive after whatever Lucifer decided to do to him. You gently knocked on his door, calling for him and asking if he was alright. But no one responded. He must be mad.. You apologized, but still nothing.

You decide to leave him be, you’ll properly apologize to him when all of you gather for breakfast. But you first want to talk to Lucifer.

You hesitantly knocked on the door, it was a gentle knock, yet it sounded so loud compared to everything else.. the sound echoed so loud it was almost deafening. The knock just seemed to amplify the silence. It was an ominous silence, the kind you'd feel in your bones. Nothing came from inside.

You felt sick to her stomach, ‘Why is the house so quiet..??’ You kept thinking to yourself. You step back a bit away from the door.

“L-Lucifer…? Are you not in there..?” You speak, reluctantly so. There was no response. No footsteps. No noise whatsoever. If he was in there, surely he would have heard you. The silence remained intact, and the uneasiness grew inside of your body.

You gaze darts to the doorknob, ‘should I check if it’s open..?’ Something inside you told her that you should, but something much bigger screamed to just go back to you room until things went back to normal.

The only sound to be heard was your own heart beat as you pondered the same question, yet again.

Curiosity seemed to have gotten the best of you though, and so you slowly proceeded to reach for the doorknob.. ‘If it’s open, it’s because it was intended… Lucifer would have it locked if he really wanted to..’ you think to yourself. You take a deep breath, and reluctantly turned the doorknob.

The doorknob turned easily, as the door swung open at a smooth pace with a soft creak. An unbearable, sickening feeling weighed on your stomach. Chilling cold air sighed out of his room — it was so dark in there..

You step back. It only took one step to realize your fears have become a reality. There was silence.. complete and utter silence. If this place was quiet before, it be a loud roar inside your head now as if you got stuck inside your mind, slowly being overwhelmed by the dread. Everything was so quiet, and it was as if you head was going to explode. It was so damn quiet.

You look at your phone and look at the time. It’s definitely usually the time everyone gets ready to go to class, so why isn’t anyone out??

“…L-Lucifer..?” You reluctantly call out again, only this time with a quieter voice. It once again remained silent and eerily quiet. That same nauseating, dread filling silence. Not even your own breathing could be heard, despite the fact it was probably loud enough to make your ears ache. In all honesty, the only thing you could hear right now was heart pounding and the blood rushing through your ears.

A few seconds went by, and you call again. But you were left there standing, and kept waiting for a sign, but nothing came from it. You were starting to feel as though you had swallowed pebbles, and now they were stuck in your throat.

You unlock your phone and went to give him a call. But much to your dismay, you were still faced with the same silence no matter how long your phone ran for.

You stared deep inside the room, zoning into its depths.. Before sprinting all over the House, checking each and every room. You first checked on Mammon, his door was also unlocked. But he wasn’t inside. You check for Levi, but even his Aquarian was eerily darkened. You called each of the brothers, desperately searching for any sort of sign from them. But there was no one in the house of lamentation.

Maybe they left you behind already left to RAD; you hoped. But you quickly realized you were gravely mistaken. Once you opened the door to leave, it somehow felt even worse..

There was nothing to listen to, same as inside. You couldn’t even hear the faintest breeze. You reluctantly walk into the street, looking side to side but no one was there. You start to jog, there’s no way this is happening..

But as you dread becomes worse, the faster you begin to run. It’s almost as if everyone disappeared from the face of Devildom. There were no lights on the neighboring buildings or houses, the stores and streets were empty. Not even the many stray cats hidden in the alleys were there.

RAD wasn’t any better, the whole damn building looked like it was shut down. A large lock prevented you from entering the academy itself. “Hello?? Can anyone hear me?!” You shout. But again. Nothing.

You then start running again, to see and check is there was anything around. There was no way you was on you own! There’s always way too many people out on the streets. You just wanted to see anyone, you didn’t care who! Heck! You didn’t even mind bumping into some demons doing the deep. Or came out to attack you. You didn’t care!

You ran and ran and ran some more but to no avail. Your head was racing faster than your own body allowed it. You could barely breathe, you lugs were in agony. And if they could, you legs would be on fire.

You eventually make it to the Demon Lord’s castle. Even Diavolo’s place was utterly dark with no signs of life in it. Devildom never had its own source of light like a moon or a sun — you never minded up until now.

You eventually end up back in the House of Lamentation, feeling utterly defeated and hopeless after hours of running. You sit in from of the door, the exhaustion slowly catching up to you.

You wrapped you arms around you legs, and rest your head on your knees. And tears began to creep on their own. It was as if a dam had broke.. You sat in complete solitude, completely alone as no one was there to comfort you. You mind was filled by so many thoughts — which didn’t help in the slightest. Nothing about this felt fair, you couldn’t control the situation and now you felt like you couldn't even be in control of yourself anymore... like some twisted form of torture, and you couldn't do anything about it..

Your cries slowly came to a stop, as did all other voices inside your head. The silence was deafening.. like the quietness before a storm. No voices, no footsteps, no sounds of life. Just complete and utter silence. You cover your ears with your hands, desperately attempting to block out the deafening silence. In hopes of bringing you some sort of comfort.

After you don’t know how much time passed of simply sitting there, you take out your phone and took a look at the time once more, but it looked incoherent.. You slowly stands up from your spot, feeling utterly numb and defeated.

You opens the door to the house of lamentation,

“…I’m home..” you cooed, the house was darker than when you had last left it as. You dragged your feet across the floor all the way to you room and shut yourself inside.

The world had been completely twisted, and you truly couldn't figure out why. It was as if someone had suddenly thrown everything you knew into the air, and now it was all coming back down in tiny ripped pieces, nothing would connect to form the picture you once knew.

You mind had completely disconnected itself from reality, you felt completely detached from everything around you.

You back hit your bed and you looked up aimlessly at the ceiling. Now even you head had gone quiet…

The exhaust finally caught up to you, and you pass out into a deep slumber.

You suddenly wake up looking up at the ceiling. But once you remembered what happened, you jumps up in a frantic state. You looked around your room, it was bright and comforting…!

You hear footsteps running up closer to your room, until you see Mammon opening your door. A frantic and awkward expression on his face.

“Yo, MC! Cover for me, will ya? Don’t tell Lucifer I’m here..!” He says as he comes in, then crouching to hide under your bed. And a glass bottle on his hand.

You were looking at him with a dumb founded look, you couldn’t even stop him from how confused you were.

A knock soon after arrives, you look down at the crack of the door — it was Lucifer..!

“….C-Come.. in?” The words came out on their own.

The door creaks open to reveal Lucifer with an irritated expression on his face. “Did Mammon come in here by any chance?” He asks..

You stare out into the abyss,

“He’s under the bed.” You say without hesitation.

“What?!—!” —Bonk— Mammon’s voice came from underneath, along with a loud thud and a groan.

“Thank you.” Says Lucifer with a Please expression, soon afterwards walking farther inside and forces Mammon out of the bed.

“Yo! Why’s ya have to snitch on me?!” He cried out.

“Sorry, Mammon. It’s for the greater good..” you say as you wipe away a tear from your eyes. Toodleling goodbye to him with your finger.

You watched as Mammon was dragged out by Lucifer, he cried and begged for mercy the whole way. You felt bad for snitching on him, but it’s a better fate than the hell you went through…

He’s a masochist strong. He can handle it.

End

Well.. it wasn’t a pleasant dream, that’s for sure.. 😔

Moral of the story, don’t question Lucifer.. 👍

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me crack #obey me shenanigans #obey me angst #obey me house of lamentation #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me hcs

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transzilla · 1 month

Text

You met me over grindr while I was in the city for a one night stand and for some reason we kept in touch, some glow around me that you really liked. Your living situation is a little crowded so we figured we would hook up in an empty bulldozer at a construction site at night. I work at a fire tower in the mountains and I really like other trans men but due to the geography haven't found anybody to stick around, so I tend to get around quite a bit when in the city.

Your living situation is tough. You've tried to go on hormones, or blockers, but keep being shamed and rejected and getting pressured out of it by distant family members or chaser-y roommates. You have no room to grow. You're fucking miserable. You contemplate offing yourself, guiltily, but quickly shoo the thought away considering you have a roof over your head and no real reason to be sad.

We text obsessively. I'm lonely out there, stealth trans in the middle of nowhere, and whenever I have service we text, call, vent, joke, bust balls, tell each other all our deepest, darkest secrets. They're looking to hire another lookout, my coworker retired. It requires you to live onsite and they provide housing without taking it out of your paycheck. I sympathize with your situation, I tell you you'd do well in this position, I'll put in a good word for you with the forest service, you should apply. Get you out of that glorified pig sty and somewhere with fresh air where you can finally breathe.

You get the job, make a fucking decision and leave everything behind to come work with me. We reunite, get drunk, get you accustomed to your new life. You talk to very few people and nobody seems to clock you as trans anyway. Your daily work is hard and manual but refreshing compared to customer service. You let me rail you every night, your food is taken care of, you're reading and working out and getting your back blown out on the clock.

Sometimes it feels like I make you do everything I'm supposed to do, I seem to enjoy watching you sweat and lift heavy things and slack on my work. I have a ton of testosterone that I share a little too excitedly with you and it doesnt look prescription, in small brown vials with blue caps, some of them are labelled cypionate but also proprionate, enthonate, undecanoate, demonic incantations you've never seen before in your life. And I'm real weird about always doing your injection for you. I stab it in so fast and it looks violent but it doesn't feel as bad when you do it, but the way I make eye contact and hold the needle in my teeth while I do my own injection is a little off putting. I'm constantly pushing you, nothing you ever do is good enough for me, all of my fetishes while we're fucking seem to entail you doing push ups naked, squats, bending over and letting me examine you, your legs getting so sore after im making you ride it, letting me squeeze your tits and feeling your pec underneath the breast. I smoke a pack a day and pressure you into joining me, complimenting you on how raspy and fucked up your voice sounds.

You have doubts. You aren't able to call your friends as often as you thought you would. When you talk to people you've been isolated so long you talk over them garishly, talk all about yourself, make too many dirty jokes and swear too much the way we talk to each other, awkward and unfit for civilized society. All you have is me and you have no choice but to trust that I have your best intentions in mind.

You let me teach you how to use a shotgun the salty perfume of the gunpowder staining your hands as your aim gets better and better, your guard lowering the more I've been praising you for doing what I want. We went hunting and you shot your first deer. I was so excited and you were so validated by how proud I was, it felt like a big hug from the inside out. You send a picture of the field dressed deer to your old city friends, guts steaming in the morning sun. they're absolutely disgusted by the fact that you would do such a thing and show them. You're a fucking machine of a man now and you're able to tame the wilderness everywhere except for in yourself.

After months you plain don't recognize yourself in the mirror. Your hair is wild, your facial hair not just a few long pubes jealously untouched on your chin but a uniform patchy stubble shaved haphazardly when you were tired of it being singed when you did fight fires. Knuckles scarred, shoulders broad, the gross muscle you feared you would develop rippling like a tiger under your skin and the extra weight you've gained. You talk like I do, you act like I do, you think like I do, you can't tell where you stop and I start. Your reflection looks sleepless, disordered, lost, a thuggish stranger. Heartless man.

#forcemasc #autoandrophilia #this is also primal ish i think #forced masculinization

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papurgaatika · 2 months

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Knead Me, Need You

Pairing: Massage Therapist! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: you were overworked, overstressed, and long overdue to get a massage. You just didn’t realize that getting one would come with a very good-looking massage therapist or the thoughts that filled your mind every time he touched you Tags: no outbreak AU, massage therapist! Joel, no reader desc. Gentle Joel, dirty thoughts, Joel is a tease, the reader is pent up as HELL, mentions of fingering, no actual sex, LOTS of sexual tension, pet names (darlin’ and sweetheart are used), Appreciation for Joel's arms, 18+ Word count: 2.7k

A/N: I very desperately need to get a massage and woke up from a dream about it so there’s that!! Also a huge lovely shoutout and thank you to my wonderful beta readers (@joelsdagger @carlynkurin and my lovely Laur) who have saved me from making the weirdest grammar mistakes and also fuel me with comments such as “IM (S)CREAMING” yall are real ones xoxo

Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!! 🇵🇸

You hate your job. Okay, that wasn’t true. You don't hate your job, you just hate the commute. And sitting at your desk all day. And the fact that you always decide that heels look better with your outfits. So you didn't really hate your job, you loved being in charge, but your back was paying the price for it. Everyone in your life has heard you complain about your back hurting at least once. Some of your coworkers had found you with a stash of the stick-on heating patches in your desk and that led to the office pitching in to get you a certificate to one of the nicest spas in the area for your birthday.

You weren’t sure if you would use it, you barely had time to sit down and fully wash your face. How were you supposed to relax for a full hour and a half with some stranger touching you? The answer came to you one Saturday when you rolled out of bed and could barely stand because of a crick in your lower back. A groan falls from your lips before you throw yourself back onto your bed and grab your phone, making quick work of dialing the number on the back of the voucher. You let out a sigh of relief when the receptionist tells you they have availability later in the afternoon, and you tell her you’d take the appointment. You’re just about to hang up before her voice comes through your speaker again “Oh, and just to let you know, your therapist will be male, is that okay?”

You freeze for a second. On one hand, you didn’t love the idea of some random man touching you, especially considering it was a full-body massage. But on the other hand, you really didn't have a choice, your back was going to give out if you waited any longer. You mumbled out a quick “That’s fine, thank you!” before hanging up and making your way up to change your clothes. You decide to opt for something more casual, before grabbing your keys and wallet and heading out of the house.

This place was fancy. Like much fancier than you had expected and suddenly your outfit felt too casual and you missed your heels. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you filled out the forms they gave you. No, you haven’t had a massage before, yes you wanted to focus specifically on your back, and you weren’t sure how much pressure you wanted. You hand the clipboard back to the receptionist with a smile and she lets you know that he’s just about finished with his last client and he’ll come back for you in just a few minutes. Your knee is bouncing of its own accord, nerves finally kicking in. You are about to be naked in front of a man who is then going to rub his hands into you. Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself that it’s his job. He does this all day, five days a week. You keep reminding yourself that it’s just a massage, you’ll be okay. You finally start to believe that, nerves dissipating and your heart settling back to its resting rate, and then you see him.

He’s all broad shoulders and a kind smile walking out to the main area, before turning in your direction, and your mind blanks for a minute to fully take in how attractive this man is. His arms were gorgeous and you couldn’t take your eyes off of them. His t-shirt was pulled tightly over his bicep, riding up just enough to let you see a peek of skin that was untouched from the Texas sun. His arms were thick, the muscles defined and prominent, veins standing out against the smooth skin. You were enraptured watching his arms move as he signed off on some papers and grabbed the clipboard with your forms on it. Images of his thick fingers in unspeakable positions flooded your mind; tugging at your hair while his other hand was on your hip, dragging over your lips and pushing them into your mouth, letting them curl into your aching cunt while he holds you down.

You were lost in your thoughts until his voice was saying your name and pulling you out of your depravity. You smile at him shyly and stand up to shake his hand “I’m Joel, and I'll be your masseuse for today, it’s a pleasure to meet you darlin’.” if you thought that he was attractive before, hearing that accent made you weak in the knees. The slow drawl of his words was smooth like honey and sent butterflies straight to your core. He takes the paperwork from the receptionist and gives it a quick scan before tutting at you lightly. “Overworkin’ yourself? Don’t worry, I'll take good care of you today.” You feel your face start to heat up as you follow him back through the halls into his room. You stepped inside to be met with a dim warm light, and soft music playing through a speaker.

“So is this your first time coming in for a massage?” he asks, half leaning against the door.

“Is it that obvious?” you half laugh, heat rising in the back of your neck. You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes locked on his. He laughed softly with a shake of his head and you think you might die on the spot. It’s so unfortunate that he’s so hot.

“No, darlin’ it said it on one of those forms they had you fill out, I just wanted to go over how it all works with you.” you nod and look up at the man, waiting for him to go on, “I know it said you wanted to focus on your back, do you mind goin’ a little bit into why?”

You sigh and press a hand into your lower back, “So I sit at work a lot, and granted my posture isn’t great, but I woke up this morning and it was worse than it had ever been” You tell him about your job, about being overworked, about your stupid half hour commute. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, only dropping to flick over your waist for a moment, and then back onto yours.

He lets you explain where exactly you were hurting before he glances at his watch and lets you know that you should get started sooner rather than later. “Just go ahead and get dressed down to your comfort level and then just lay down with your face in the cradle sweetheart. I’ll knock before coming back in and then we can get started.” You smile and give him a nod, taking a deep breath once the door shuts after him. You make haste to strip down and fold your clothes leaving them in a little pile on a shelf, leaving your panties on much too aware of the wetness that was pooling into them. You grab your phone and lay down on the table, scrolling through your email and replying to a few new ones from your coworkers, knowing fully well that they can barely get things done without you.

A knock on the door breaks you out of your thoughts and you let out a small noise of acknowledgment that you were ready, slightly hesitant. You watch as Joel opens the door and steps in, eyes immediately flicking to your phone. “Can’t have that out darlin’, this is your time to relax” he says gently, grabbing your phone and setting it down on the shelf next to your clothes. “I’m sure work can wait.'' He shoots you a wink and your face feels flushed. You let your face fall into the cradle, eyes shutting before you feel his hands grazing your body over the sheet slowly. He’s barely touching you, his touch is feather-light, so why do you feel like your body is on fire? His fingers make small circles on your scalp as his thumbs press gently into the base of your neck. Your eyelids flutter softly, the pressure he was applying immediately melting away your stress. His fingers work on your neck, not pressing too hard but not so soft that it wouldn’t help at all. You feel him work in the same place for a few minutes to get rid of a knot, likely from staring down at your phone or hunching over your computer all day, before he takes his hands away.

“Alright sweetheart I'm gonna move the sheet and start on your back, if that’s alright,” you nod into the face rest, letting out a deep breath when his hands hit your skin. You figured his hands would be as strong as the rest of him looks but he was surprisingly gentle and warm. The smell of roses and sandalwood fills your nose as his hands press softly between your shoulder blades. You let out a soft sigh when his fingers dig into your skin “That pressure alright darlin’?”

You manage to mumble out a weak “yes” and let your eyes fall shut again. You don't know why he’s doing this to you, why this man is making you all hot and bothered while he just does his job, but he is. His hands feel like heaven on your lower back, fingers creating circles to try and get a particularly nasty knot out right above your tailbone. A sound leaves your mouth, a little too close to a whimper for your liking and you feel the blood rush to your face but Joel doesn’t even mention it.

“You're real tense sweetheart, it’s a wonder you didn't have to come in before today” he mutters as his fingers work their way back up your spine. A trail of goosebumps follows after his touch as your back almost arches into his hands. Almost. You catch yourself at the last moment, sparing yourself from what would be the most embarrassing experience of your life and would also likely get you banned from the spa, which would truly be painful because lord, did Joel know how to use his hands on you. His fingers were soft yet somehow held just the right amount of strength in them to work your pain away, the way the heels of his palms would dig into your skin when he focused on a specific area, he was just too good at this and it was making you a little bit crazy.

Your eyes were still shut, your body more relaxed than it had ever been when you heard him tell you to flip over so he could work on your legs. In your half-asleep state, you seem to have forgotten that moving too fast will not only make your head spin but will also make the sheet covering you drop. You managed to catch it and pull it over your chest, eyes wide and staring at him. “Oh my god I'm so sorry-” you start but he cuts you off with a shake of his head before clearing his throat.

“‘s alright sweetheart” his eyes flick down to where you were clutching the sheet. Your breasts were spilling out of the top almost obscenely, a small sheen of sweat from the warmth of the table (and his hands) covering your skin. “Just lay back down, ‘m gonna work on those legs now.” He turns to grab the oil again, and you weren’t certain because of the dim lighting in the room, but you could have sworn there was a light blush dusting his cheeks. You lay down with your head in the rest, still clutching the sheet at your chest before he takes it out of your hands and brings it over your chest fully, leaving just your collarbone and neck exposed. He moves to a corner before picking up a bolster to put under your knees to prop them up slightly.

You let your eyes fall shut as you feel his hands skim your calf. You bite back a gasp when his hands, god his hands are huge, encompass your ankle and bring it up out of the sheet, bending it at your knee slightly. You wet your lips with your tongue and find your mouth drier than it had ever been as he moves your leg into a good position for him, your calf almost grazing his chest. You feel yourself clench around nothing and feel your panties dampen at the closeness of him. He lets your foot down, tucking the sheet under your hip so that it doesn't slip out from under you, and you can feel your heartbeat everywhere. His fingers were so strong yet so gentle on your calf, rubbing out the tightness in your legs. As his fingers made their way further up your leg you felt like you were on fire. His hands were pressing into the muscles, nails softly tracing against your inner thigh and it made you feel weak. You couldn’t get the image of those same fingers the ones that were trying to help you relax, rubbing circles over your clit or digging into your hips as he held you in place, out of your mind. It was filthy really, how pent-up you were. How depraved the thoughts you were having about this man, this stranger, were, but you couldn’t help the wetness pooling between your legs from growing. He presses into a specifically sore spot, dragging something between a yelp and moan from your lips. “I'm so sorry-” your words were quiet, barely audible over the light music he had playing in the room. “Don't worry about it sweetheart, just means I’m doing my job right” he was fucking with you. He had to know what he was doing to you. Had to know that while he was working on the muscles of your legs, you wanted those strong fingers inside of you, talking you through orgasm after orgasm with that sweet southern voice.

You close your eyes again, trying to stabilize your heart rate and keep it from pounding out of your chest “Alright sweetheart, I'm gonna wipe you off and then I’m sorry to say, but we are done for the session” You nod your head before feeling the warmth of a hot towel wipe against your legs, attempting to brush the idea of him wiping you up after pumping you full of his cum out of your mind. You take a few deep breaths before he turns the lights up slowly, letting you adjust to the change. “Alright, I'm gonna step out and grab you some water. I’ll meet you up by the front darlin’” You smile at him and say thank you before moving to change into your clothes, knees slightly wobbly from just thinking about him. Your panties are embarrassingly wet when you stand up, and you press your face into your hands trying to shake this out of your system.

You manage to step out of the room without having your knees give out, eyes still slightly blurry from being half asleep through the whole appointment, and walk back out to the reception. You blink a few times, adjusting to the much brighter lighting, and see Joel waiting for you with a cup of water. “Pleasure working on ya sweetheart, I hope I’ll see you again soon” You take the water and say your thank you to him before watching him walk back into the backroom, and oh my god was his butt always that cute?

You turn back to the receptionist with a smile, when she asks how the session went. “Good, yeah no everything was amazing” You bite on the inside of your cheek softly, the ghost of his fingers still on your skin. You get checked out, making sure to give him a hell of a tip and book another session with him in a few weeks. You take his card and twirl it around your fingers as you sit in your car. Joel Miller- Licensed Massage Therapist- Austin, TX. It was going to be a long hard few weeks without seeing him, but you had some ideas on how to keep yourself, and that dull ache in the pit of your stomach occupied, and every single one of them included thinking about Joel Miller and his fingers.

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS. Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 4 months

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Wait im sorry if like youve talked about this before but what is everyones roles in the fantasy au 👁️👁️ or jobs?

i've just Thought Aloud in bits and pieces but hey. i feel like talking today so i'll put it all in one place with Updated Thinkings

(i like to imagine that they all kinda Quit their initial jobs/lives to go adventuring with each other, either by choice or... not. except Howdy, who's a multitasking king). the Neighborhood party earns their wages by completing jobs/quests, though some of them have minor supplemental ways of adding to the coin collection

Wally, of course, didn't really have much of a Before. he didn't intend on becoming a warlock/wizard - that choice was kinda made for him by the circumstances of his existence. but Wally had to pretend to be a wizard for his own safety, and wizards have a sort of societal expectation to be Helpful and Magical and Wise and Existing For Public Service. so while Wally would have rather just been a painter, he's obligated to be a wizard - that's technically his role/job. within the Neighborhood party, he's a bit of a distance fighter/support! he doesn't really do the whole up-close / physical aspect of battle, though he technically knows how. He casts spells from afar, which tend to be widely benign. artsy little cantrips and inconveniences to make it harder for the enemy to fight. he's also a bit of a bloodhound - illusions don't trick him, he can "see" most magic, and he's really good at getting around unnoticed. if they're stuck somewhere, Wally can probably get them out

Barnaby's "job" before going adventuring with Wally - it started out as just the two of them! - was just working on the farm with Ms. Beagle, where he had been his entire life. Sure he'd sometimes do public performances/acts in town, which would earn him extra coin, but that was more of a paying hobby than anything (a paying hobby he will Continue) in the Neighborhood, he's... uh. their cheerleader? that's not entirely inaccurate! he's not big on combat or effort i'd reckon, so he prefers to just keep morale high. offer background music, funny commentary, jokes to lighten the mood, mediate tensions, etc. if necessary, he makes good backup - he has his illusions of course, and he Does pack a mighty punch if need be! he's also very helpful when retreating - he can grab the smaller party members and run

Wormie is the group mascot <3

Sally was a bit lost before joining the party - i like to think that she was constantly on the move as part of a traveling theater troupe, but she wasn't the star or director. she was just part of the group, uninspired and with a full well of untapped potential. one day she up and left (dramatically) to find her own inspiration/muse & path to stardom, which ended up being several years of wandering until she happened across the budding Neighborhood and went "this! this will be the source of my stories!" as for her role, she's a bit of an everyman. front lines fighter, entertainer, mediator, etc. she views herself as the party "leader", or rather, their Manager. she keeps the party entertained with stories, and bolsters their reputation in the same manner. in a battle she's a bit of a powerhouse - her light magic is useful both in combat and entertainment! she keeps a "book" of the Neighborhood's exploits (she swears it will be edited/published someday) holy shit she's moominpappa, and in their Extended downtime she writes and throws plays inspired by their adventures at their home base (town).

Eddie was still, originally, a mailman. or i suppose in a fantasy setting - a courier! until one day he saw a group of people being attacked by some bandits, managed to fight them off, and immediately got roped into helping rescue the folks' entire town from the bigger group of bandits. then they told others about Eddie's help, they wanted his help too, one thing after another and now he's got a full set of armor, a sword, a shield, and his whole thing is saving people. huh? how did that happen? he was delivering letters a month ago! if i had to give him a title... i'd say he's a Protector! he seems like the type! he always has his fellow adventurer's backs - i bet he has his hands full trying to cover everyone at once. outside of combat, he's still very helpful and does whatever is asked of him / needed. collecting firewood! pitching tents! stirring soup! getting Frank to remove a centipede from camp! in downtime he probably takes small bodyguarding gigs. he also is a minor healer - he took some sorta oath for some sorta god (or virtue) that he can't remember, but he has minor healing/cleansing powers. he's also good at sniffing out evil & dark magic! some would joke that he's the party's guard dog

Frank was raised in a monastery that believes in "using your body to fight for the greater good". this was not his job when they became old enough to actually Act on his training! nah they ran away in his mid teens because they wanted to fight things on his own terms. also they want to study bugs more than anything, which he does! for a long time! then they meet a certain princess, befriends her, and helps her run away. he only joins the Neighborhood because Julie wants to, and it's a good way to travel - read: study more arthropods - and earn coin. fighting is a bonus aspect Frank's role is... front line fighter, bookkeeper, and the Guy Who Knows Things! what monster are they dealing with? what are its strengths/weaknesses? Frank probably knows! can they afford a room or two at an Inn? Frank knows (no, they cannot)! who's throwing themself into direct mortal danger with gusto? it's Frank! no but really, Frank is like their resident nerd who can beat pretty much all of them in hand-to-hand. in downtime he probably has a garden purposefully full of plants that can be left alone for long periods of time... maybe they sell half the things grown for extra coin!

Julie, of course, was a princess! that was her whole job! it was incredibly boring and restricting, so she ran away with the help of a funny nerd. after that her whole life was just "avoid getting recognized while figuring out how to live in a world without the comforts/ease of castle life". i'd think she much prefers her new one! as a role, Julie joins Barn and Sally in the "entertainment category". while they entertain with humor/stories respectively, Julie goes straight for games and activities to fill the lull between action. keep the blood pumping, spirits high, and bonds Solid! camp games, road games, locked-in-a-dungeon games! in combat, she's on the front lines with her oversized sword. i think another fitting role would be "navigator" - she can ask plants for directions! technically Julie is a secret powerhouse. her flora magic is insanely powerful, though she prefers not to use it for several reasons

Poppy, i like to think, did indeed have a bakery. it was well-loved in her community, her staff were wonderful people, and it all burned down in a night due to raiders. luckily for Poppy and her town, Eddie was nearby and got on the case to get rid of their problem - maybe Poppy felt obligated to help in some shape or form, and Eddie wound up inspiring her to learn healing magic. She moved into the town that would become the not-yet-existing Neighborhood's HQ to try and restart her business, but it just wasn't the same, and she had gotten a taste of what it would be like to directly save/heal people Poppy is the party's cook, healer, and ultimate voice of caution! the most she'll do in battle is sprint into danger to drag an injured person to safety for healing - she doesn't have a combative bone in her body i'd guess! does she enjoy being in the Neighborhood? eh... it's stressful and terrifying, but she couldn't live with herself if she let them all brave the wild without an adequate healer OR an adequate cook. i like to think that she saw the state they were traveling in and went "oh no"

Howdy, of course, has his tavern! it's a popular hub for travelers, townsfolk, pretty much anyone and everyone. of course it helps that it's the only tavern in town! the only reason Barnaby managed to convince Howdy to join the Neighborhood on one of their jobs is because Howdy realized that he can widen his net & sell to new people On The Go. finally, a use for that magic backpack collecting dust in his room! Howdy got a taste for adventuring and joins the Neighborhood every once in a while, usually only for shorter jobs - he doesn't want to be away from his tavern for too long his roles are support, professional haggler, sarcastic commentary. he doesn't have a crumb of magic in him, but he's clever! he's learned how to make his own support items - including his fancy revolvers with magical crayonsbullets. Howdy rarely fights, choosing to watch over his pack, dole out items when needed, and listen to Barnaby's running commentary. when it is necessary that he join in on combat, he can usually clear the playing field in a matter of moments. he's skilled with both the revolvers and using his own items - he's a one man four armed army!

Home's job is "keep Wally upright and powered". they prefer to be an observer in all situations, even after their existence becomes common knowledge to the Neighborhood. the most Home will do is nudge Wally in the right direction or alert him to something important. Home's literally just hanging out behind Wally's eyes w/ a bucket of popcorn. unless something happens to his beloved little puppet, in which case Home becomes the biggest baddest bitch around and sends everyone else to the bench

tl;dr: Wally: support fighter, magic geiger counter, escape artist Barnaby: entertainer, backup Wormie: mascot Sally: storyteller, fighter, Manager Eddie: protector, minor healer, "paladin" Frank: bookkeeper, fighter, scholar Julie: activities director, navigator, fighter Poppy: cook, healer, overthinker Howdy: tavernkeeper, inventor, support Home: just keeping an eye out

#THERE'S A TL;DR AT THE END BTW #YOU DONT HAFTA READ ALL THAT #honestly thinking about them fighting is so funny #bc like... out of the 9 of them technically only 5 actually fight #Unless frank needs to sit one out to research #then its 4!#so you've got four guys fighting for their fucking lives while everyone else is just vibing off to the side #honestly half of the appeal of fantasy aus is the Fun Combat Aspect #not only the actual fights but also! sparring! practicing with each other!#its about frank teaching wally how to throw a punch & wally immediately decking him right in the face! Accidentally!#its also about the Camping. and the Healing. and the Trusting Each Other With Your Lives.#found family it up babeyyyyyyy #rambles from the bog #wh fantasy au #just realized that ~In Canon~ if anything the neighbors are Forced Family #they dont have a choice! they're in it together whether they like it or not!#and i say 'if anything' bc ehhhh i dont really think they count... are they more like coworkers? but yk #this is an au post i cant be speculating on The Delightful Source here

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