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#and i’m still ridiculously exhausted
scribblemakes · 9 months
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[ID: A collection of black and white sketches showing everyday objects that are haunted by little creatures. These creatures fill in gaps with black space and white dots for eyes /End ID]
As some of you might’ve seen: I’m no longer posting art on Twitter, so Tumblr is now the only social media I’ll be consistently posting art to. However: I’ll also be posting it to my website and possibly other social media platforms in the future.
I also post monthly sketch pages to my Patreon (April’s is on this post) with early access for Patrons, and I’m hoping to add more things to it soon!
Thanks everyone for your support (your tags mean a lot to me!) and I’ve put more of my thoughts in the tags.
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banghwa · 10 months
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it is. undefinable how profoundly tired i am these days.
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kaeyaphile · 8 months
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the knowledge that i have the next two days off as well as the fact that my father is probably going up to our camp tomorrow and therefore i will finally be blissfully alone for a few hours is really what is going to get me through today 🥲
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i would like it known that i just started on a stimulant
and all it has done is make me fucking exhausted all day
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borifle · 2 years
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when the job hunting has been going so badly for months that you start applying to shit hundreds and even thousands of miles away just on the off chance you’ll actually get an email back or, god willing, an interview
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wonderpodia · 2 years
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Missed the part of my job description that includes chasing a woman through the car park as she tries to steal a trolley full of shopping
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abyssruler · 8 months
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arguments and odd positions
lyney x gn!reader
you knew lyney was a magician, but opening your fridge only to see him inside instead of your recently bought groceries is taking it a little too far. or — you refuse to talk to lyney after an argument, which leads to lyney putting himself in various odd positions in order to get you to speak to him.
comedy-ish, just lyney being weird and lynette being his accomplice
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Lyney’s not one to let you stew in your anger after an argument. He’s persistent in getting you to speak with him to try and resolve the issue, which leads to a few… ridiculous and frankly odd situations he puts himself in just so he can talk to you.
An hour after you rushed off after a heated argument, you open your door only to find a little note stamped on it with the words I’m sorry :( written in a loopy handwriting. A bit creepy that he sneaked into your bedroom without your notice, but while the note makes you soften a bit, you’re still angry with him.
Which then leads to more… drastic measures. The likes of which Lyney has to force Lynette to help him with.
Two hours after your argument, you’re opening your fridge, only to lurch away and bite back a scream of surprise when you see Lyney standing inside your fridge.
“I’m sorry—” he starts, but you’re quick to close the door on him.
It escalates after that.
Everywhere you go, Lyney is right there.
In the middle of watering the plants in your backyard, you shift a few leaves from a bush and come face to face with none other than Lyney. He smiles sheepishly at you, a few twigs stuck in his hair. You don’t know how he managed to hide himself in that bush, but instead of acknowledging him, you spray him with water and leave.
You’re in the middle of cooking when you open your cupboard and see Lyney crouched inside the small space (how did he even fit in there?) He gives you a little wave which you ignore as you close the cupboard on him.
It goes on like that for a while. You turning around and seeing Lyney in bizarre positions that make you question how he even managed to end up in the first place.
You check in on your aquarium to feed your fish, only to see Lyney inside the aquarium. You open a book to read, but Lyney’s face is printed on every page. You try reading the newspaper, but the headlines are filled with nothing but Lyney’s name and why you should forgive him. You play a song, but Lyney’s voice echoes instead of the opera singer’s. You open your closet to change clothes, and Lyney is inside the cramped space wearing your clothes.
He’s everywhere.
You shift the curtains open, and Lyney. Is. Right. There.
You swear the windows had been firmly shut, and there hadn’t even been the slightest outline to tell that a person was hiding behind the curtains.
“Darling, please—”
You swish the curtains close on him and stomp your way to the bedroom. You make sure to lock the door, double checking the windows to prevent any chances of Lyney sneaking in.
When you’re sure that not even the hydro archon can break into your room, you sink down on your bed, exhaustion settling in as you turn your head over this bizarre day.
Lyney was persistent, yes, but never to this degree. He showered you with all sorts of compliments and bent over backwards so you can always have your way. In hindsight, the fact that you’ve never once argued before should have been a hint that Lyney has always been careful to make sure you’re happy—too careful, at that. It makes sense, you think, that he’s so desperate to make peace with you now that you’ve had your first argument.
Still, despite how odd his actions were, it was a little touching to see how far he’d go just to apologize to you. Maybe tomorrow you’ll finally acknowledge his existence.
You shift, turning to the other side of your bed—
And Lyney is right there, laying on his side and watching you with a smile on his lips.
You feel your anger and resolve crumble in the face of that smile. And really, it’s been a long day. Staying angry isn’t going to do anyone any good.
He opens his mouth, but you interrupt him with an exasperated sigh, shuffling forward and snuggling your head in the crook of his neck.
“I forgive you,” you murmur.
You feel him circle his arms around you, letting out a happy little sigh of contentment as he buried his face on top of your head, pressing a kiss that sends a spark right down your spine. He’s dressed in a soft shirt and cotton shorts made for sleeping, clearly having expected to sleep here beside you. Sneaky. You’ll get him back for the near heart attacks today, but for now, you’ll settle for basking in the warmth he radiates, letting his heartbeat lull you to sleep.
And you think that’s the end of it, that the two of you will drift off to sleep in each others’ embrace, but then—
“Lynette, tell Freminet to cancel the fireworks show! Plan Y version two is no longer needed!”
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fawnindawn · 22 days
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even at our worst, we know we'll still be okay (luke castellan x apollo fem! reader)
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summary: Where Percy's insistent pestering forces Luke to rethink on his possibly not platonic feelings for you, his best friend, and Percy's questions are answered for him with Luke's reaction to you being heavily injured on your return from your quest.
pairing: luke castellan x apollo fem! reader
a/n: i'm actually in love with this, maybe it's just the friends-to-lovers in me (where a love confession happens because one of them was near death's door-) but man.. also, i love including percy so much he's such a kid.
masterlist for this series
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"Face it, man. You're whipped."
Percy watched Luke choke on his water, coughing as he tried to swallow past the sudden accusation. Wiping at the excess that dripped past his chin, Luke raised a brow at Percy.
"Whipped? For who?" Luke questioned, eyes averting and staring straight ahead, beyond the training grounds towards the meadows in the distance, seemingly searching for something or just doing a poor job at avoiding Percy’s unimpressed stare.
“I’m not blind, as much as Annabeth claims, to this...love stuff.” Percy huffed, half in exasperation and half in exhaustion as he leaned forward using his sword to balance himself. “You’ve been depressed ever since she left for her quest.”
Luke doesn’t need to hear your name to know who Percy was referring to. It’s been weeks since you were chosen by your father, Apollo, to descend on some mighty quest to fetch back his lyre that had been stolen. It wasn’t supposed to be a dangerous quest, but Luke had felt his gut sinking when he first heard the news from you.
“Why does he need to send you out there, where you could possibly be tracked down by monsters to get back a musical instrument of all things?” Luke snapped, exasperated as he runs his fingers through his curls, pacing back and forth in the Hermes Cabin, while you laid on his mattress looking undeniably calmer than he was.
“Luke, my dad won’t purposely send me on some death trap. I'll be fine.” You tried to reassure him, waiting for him to calm down in his pacing before you extended your hands in his direction right as he turned to make another round through the cabin for the seventh time. “Hey, come here.” You gestured. “Sit with me.”
He hesitated, stopping in his tracks as he finally took the time to look at you, noting your concerned expression at him. As if you weren’t about to descend on some ridiculous quest to god knows where all because your father couldn’t pluck up the effort to collect the instrument himself.
The longer your hands stayed outstretched for him, the more his anger and frustration dissolved into the overwhelming need to be near you. One second, he’s standing and the next, he’s laying in bed with you, your arms wrapped around him to stabilise him even though he should be the stronger one. The one to look out for you.
Laying his head on your shoulder as he wrapped one of his fingers around your hair, curling it in his palms, he spoke again in a soft whisper only for you to hear. “I’m worried.”
“I know.” You responded, your hands tracing at the curve of his shoulder, stopping at his collarbone, before your finger moved to tilt his face by the chin to look at you. “You trust me, right?” You ask, knowing his answer but wanting to hear the reassurance all the same.
“Course' I do.” He replied immediately, his eyes intense as he made eye contact with you. That was without question. You could ask him to walk into blazing flames, and he'd trust you would ask for good reason.
“Then you can trust that I’ll make it back alive.”
“Alive can mean lots of things.” He muttered, his eyes growing distant, the ghost of blood and a stinging burn running down the half of his face appearing uninvited in his mind.
“I’ll make it back alive and unharmed.” You reiterated, a knowing look in your eyes as you unconsciously traced at his scar, leaving warmth where it resides, making him shiver instinctively. “It’s a promise, Luke.”
He stayed silent, before slowly moving his hand to cup yours that rested over his scar. “I’m counting on it, sunshine.”
That promise rested over Luke’s conscience, gnawing at the back of his heels, chasing him daily from the early hours as he forced himself not to break over the stress and anxiety before putting on his golden boy facade, to pretend that he wasn't constantly distracted and nauseous over the thought of something happening to you without him being there to protect you.
He would've snuck out of camp if he could, just to find you, but Chiron had been tight-lipped on your destination, his all-knowing gaze piercing right through Luke when he had tried to nonchalantly ask about your whereabouts.
"I wish I could help you, Luke." Chiron had told Luke a few days after you had gone. "However, Apollo's request was clear. Only she shall take on this quest. No one else." The pin-point gaze Chiron had locked onto Luke made it clear he was talking about him.
"I am not whipped." Luke denied. "She's my friend. Like how you're my friend."
"I don't think your friendship with her is normal though." Percy fired back quickly, sipping on his own water as if he didn't casually demolish the older boy. "I swear I caught you bringing her back after curfew to your cabin, a few times in fact."
Luke felt his cheeks flush at Percy's sudden interrogation, smashing facts after facts on an early Tuesday morning. "I've been having.. nightmares lately. She's the only one who keeps them away." He didn't know why he felt like he had to explain himself to the kid, but the longer his friendship with you went under fire, the faster he wanted to get out of this conversation.
"You don't think that's something you should think deeper about?" Percy muttered with a shrug.
Luke is left speechless, his mind short-cutting at the sudden implication of.. him feeling something more for you? His most recent memories flashed through his mind. You tucked under his blanket as you laid beside him for the last night before your quest, a sleepy smile etched on your lips before you whispered him goodnight and he pulled you into his chest so he could feel your heart beating against his to push away any tricks currently playing on his mind, bringing light to how you're the only person he believes could calm him down and bring him peace-
"She's my best friend." Luke replied, more to himself than to Percy. "I'm just worried for her. A quest like that shouldn't take so long, and I keep imagining-"
He stopped in his tracks, not wanting to say his fears out in the open in fear that his words would jinx it, but Percy knew where he was getting at. Percy inched closer to Luke, moving to pat him awkwardly on the back in an effort to comfort him. "It's normal to be worried. From what I heard from Annabeth, you two are really close. I didn't have much conversations with her before she left, but she seems brave, and smart too. I have no doubts she'll make it back. If she's half as good as you, there's no way she wouldn't."
Luke felt a real smile crossing his face, the corners of his lips quirked up at Percy's words. "She's not half as good- she is better than me." He turned to look at Percy, that shine in his eyes noticeable as he talked about you. "Don't let her hear that when she gets back though, she'll talk my ear off for ages."
Percy returned his own smile, elated to see Luke have some improvement in his mood, proof being the first genuine smile Percy's seen in weeks coming from him.
"So.. do you want to stop for today?" Percy attempted with a casual tone.
"Why? Backing out already?" Luke teased, a smirk playing on his lips as he inched towards the kid jokingly with his sword raised.
"No!" Percy denied frantically. "I swear I'm not using the sympathy card as an excuse to get out of training-"
The sounds of a horn cut off his words, groaning across the camp, reaching the training grounds in record time. Luke felt his heart palpitate, nearly crashing into his rib cage.
He barely had time to think, yelling to Percy with urgency flying off his tongue. "Catch you later, Perce!" Then, he was off, his legs carrying him up the hills and back towards the camp entrance.
He heard Percy yell his name in confusion, but he could apologise later for his sudden departure.
You had come back to him.
The journey seemed too long, his shoes scrambling for ground, barely scraping the dirt as he ran towards the front of camp. He didn't know what to expect, a celebration with cheers from the other campers on your arrival, a glimpse of your face with that smile he loves. What he didn't expect was the silence as he came towards a slow jog before ultimately stopping at what seemed to be a crowd gathering around something- or someone.
He pushed his way through, barely making the effort to apologise over the thought of seeing you. His eyes finally caught onto what the onlookers were staring at, and his heart dropped.
You laid on the ground, passed out with what seemed to be dark, angry coils covering your skin, ranging from your neck to the outstretch of your back that was exposed from the gash in your shirt. That stupid lyre laid not too far from you, its golden strings ripped apart.
The sound that tore from his throat barely sounded like his voice, yelling out your name as he pushed through the final barrier in the crowd before reaching for you. He nearly made it before someone dragged him back, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him away.
The curses that left Luke's mouth would make anyone wince, and he had to resist the urge to punch whoever was holding him back as he twisted his head to face his repressor. "Chris! Get out of my way." Luke hissed, still trying to make his way to you, fury twisting in his gut as he couldn't fathom why no one's helped you yet.
"Calm down, Luke!" Chris pleaded, desperation in his eyes forcing Luke to falter. "I know you want to help her but you have to listen to me. Whatever attacked her left something contagious on her body. Someone already tried helping her but it spread to their skin too!"
Wait? While whatever was attacking your body seemed to grow more intense by the minute, as Luke's gaze locked onto your form and watched the sickening, black coils spread further and further up your neck.
"Rodriguez, does it look like I care if it spreads to me?" Luke spat out, giving his friend a final push. "If she dies, I won't ever forgive myself for standing on the sidelines. Let me go now."
The cold venom in his tone made his friend loosen his hold just enough for Luke to rip himself out of his arms to drop his knees beside you. He grabbed hold of your shoulder, which still had shreds of your shirt to prevent him from being stung by whatever was infecting you, but his other hand which grabbed hold of your back did not face the same fate. The coils snaked onto his palm, and he gritted his teeth at the burning sensation.
Just as he turned you around so he could lift you up, he heard the familiar sound of hooves stamping against the soil and he looked up to see Chiron approaching with a grim expression. No words needed to be said as Luke met eyes with the centaur, a mutual understanding as Luke wrapped his arms around your torso and legs.
He pushed through to help carry you up, barking orders for the crowd to part way as he made his way to the infirmary. The longer he held onto you, the more every bone in his body seemed to scream to let you go, but he only focused on every step it took to get you closer to help, his eyes unable to look away from the paleness of your skin, the blue to your lips.
It seemed unfit for a child of Apollo, a child of the sun, to be dull and lifeless. You looked dead, and if it wasn't for the faint drumming of your pulse he could sense from your wrist, he would've struck the name of your father with such unbridled hatred, Apollo himself would descend from the heavens to condemn him.
"Please." He begged, holding onto you tighter despite his body's cries not to. Begging to who, he did not know, but if any being could save you from the fate you did not deserve, and pass it to him instead, he would gladly offer his prayers and worship. If it meant saving you, he would take your pain and suffer it tenfold just to see you open your eyes again.
It took you five days to recover. The infirmary had been quarantined and no one save for Chiron and Will, the main healer from the Apollo cabin, was allowed in. In those five days, no one dared approach Luke, who seemed near death's door despite having received his own small dosage of ambrosia to heal the coils that had managed to sink into his skin. He had begged Chiron to let him visit you, but Chiron deemed him too unstable to be near you, your recovery process a fragile thing that required tentative hands and patience.
Waiting to see you was a torture not even he could have envisioned for himself. He had been torn apart at the seams, of his belief in the gods and the scars that were immortalized onto his body. He had lived through days of water and nothing but false hope, hiding from monsters and other horrors before he made it to camp, arriving as a scrawny boy with eyes having witnessed events no kid his age should have to go through. Yet, no pain he had experienced could compare to his fears of losing you. If he-
He couldn't think of it without wanting to puke, but if he lost you somehow, he would lose his faith in this world. There would be no one to hold him back, no you, to stop him from letting go of the world that failed him and tearing it down.
It didn't help that in those five days, he had dreams. Of a different world, of salvation. A dark, ancient voice called to him, older than time, with whispers of promised glory and revenge. There was no you, none of your soothing touches or voice to wake him. In those five days, his strength faltered and he made a deal.
On the sixth day, he was woken frantically by a shake on the shoulder from his sleep. He roused awake, dizzy and still-half asleep to see Chris talking to him in rushed incoherent words.
"Awake- She's awake, sleepy-head!"
Luke was half-dressed, still fighting off sleep with aggressive rubbing to his eyes as he tugged on his t-shirt, rushing towards the infirmary with Chris hot on his heels.
He burst through the front door, holding his breath when he finally saw you, propped up on two pillows talking to Will. Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision as he rushed over to you.
You turned to him then, just in time to see him blink his tears away. "Luke." You called to him softly, and time seemed to stop just for the two of you, and he could only see you in his vision.
"Can you guys give us some privacy?" You asked politely, eyeing Will and Chris, but your eyes never drifted far before moving back to him.
"Of course." Will responded, quickly getting up from his chair towards the exit, dragging a confounded Chris with him with a tug on the back of his shirt. "Hey! I wanted to see her too-" "Give the two lovebirds some time alone, you idiot."
Luke inched closer to you, his heart beating so loudly in his eardrums he swears you could hear it too. You lifted your arms to him and he didn't waste time, taking you in his arms and embracing you so tight, and yet he felt he couldn't be close enough.
"You were dying. In my arms. I felt it when I carried you in here." He muttered into your shoulder, shaking as he finally let out the exhaustion and pain he had been feeling since the day you left.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." You apologised, rocking him back and forth as your voice croaked up. "All I thought of was you. When I fought against that beast, I kept repeating my promise to you. That I would come back to you. You saved me."
He shook his head, feeling his tears wet his cheeks as he pulled back to grab you by the chin, a gentle touch like he was afraid you would disappear if he couldn't see you talking to him, that your voice would be a hallucination he concocted. "I should've stopped you from going. I had a bad feeling since I heard about it. I should've protected you- prevented you from getting hurt in the first place-"
You stopped him with a kiss, desperate yet shy, before pulling away and pressing your forehead to his. "I love you, Luke. I was so scared I would never get to tell you and it would've been my biggest regret. I love you so much, Luke, and I'm sorry if this ruins anything between us but I can't hide it anymore-"
Luke cut you off the very same way you did, but with such intense hunger you gasped when he kissed you, sloppy and with even more desperation, tugging at your bottom lip and pulling you closer with his hand at nape of your neck. "I love you." He muttered through quick breaths. "I love you, it actually hurts because of how much I do." He admitted, grabbing your hand to place right above his heart, which is owned completely and only by you.
He leaned in once more, addicted to the taste of you, kissing you with one hand holding yours to his heart, the other pulling you close so that there was no space between the two of you. When he had to stop so you both could gasp for air, he pressed his forehead back to yours, the first smile stretching at his lips in days. "I never want to be apart from you ever again, you hear me, sunshine?"
You giggled at his words, nodding slightly. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Extra: Luke reappears with you the next day when you insisted on wanting to get out of the infirmary after being cooped up away from the sun for so long. ("You're such an Apollo kid." Luke teases, which you ignore with a roll of your eyes.) He's with you every step of the way, and now that your feelings are out for each other in the open, he doesn't hesitate to kiss you on the cheek or fawn over you without hiding his intensity.
When he makes eye contact with Percy over the room, the damn kid gives him a wink and a thumbs-up.
a/n: i want to expand so much more on this, with kronos taking advantage of luke's weak mind during your recovery and more, OMGGGGGGG. tell me if you guys want more pls and i'll make more parts. thank you for reading if you made it this far <3
update: I am officially making this into a series called ‘everything in between’. To those who want to follow more on their story, you can comment on whether you want to be added to the tag list for this series or check the masterlist!
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nadvs · 1 month
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cam girl (part eleven)
pairing rafe cameron x female reader
rating explicit 18+
content warning alcohol use
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summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.
» masterlist
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Rafe has never had a hangover this bad. The sharp ache hammering against his temples is relentless.
He feels absolutely fucking finished. Last night, he passed out on whoever hosted the party’s floor, so not only is his head a mess, but his back is sore as fuck.
And the black eye doesn’t feel so good, either.
Even after last night’s aggravating argument with you and the embarrassing drunk texts he sent and this residual hangover from hell, when Rafe gets home in the late morning and finds you curled up in his bed, he feels better.
His head always does this when he’s around you. It’s like the whole world is nothing but fucking noise but with you, the loud turns quiet.
He still doesn’t know how you do that.
Rafe peels his clothes off, takes a hot shower, brushes his teeth and puts on new boxers… and he comes back to see you still passed out on his bed.
You must be exhausted. He feels the usual warm and incomprehensible buzz in his chest when he looks at you, even though he’s mad at you.
Rafe settles in his bed half-naked, slow not to wake you.
He’s half-asleep, fighting the ridiculous urge to turn around and hold you, when he feels you finally shift behind him. He turns to look at you and hates how his first thought is that you look pretty. He’s supposed to be pissed off at you.
He has no idea what the fuck happened last night. Why you made him feel like you’re sick of him all of a sudden.
“Crap,” you whisper as you sit up, realizing where you are and dropping eye contact with him immediately.
“Thought you needed a break from me,” Rafe mutters. “Why are you in my bed?”
He didn’t intend for his words to come out so sharp.
“I didn’t… mean to fall asleep.” You don’t even look at him. “You don’t have to be a dick about it.”
You’re about to get out of his bed and Rafe is powerless to his impulses like he always is around you. His hand circles your wrist, pulling you back.
You drop to sit on the edge of the bed and he can tell you’re annoyed by the way you look up at the ceiling and sigh. He remains on his back, the pain radiating through him keeping him from sitting up.
“I have work to do,” you say, still refusing to meet his eyes.
“Did we go too long last night?” Rafe asks, needing to know why you’re so cold, why you’re done with him all of a sudden. “Is that why you’re being like this? That shit was your fucking idea.”
That stupid toy you got was what kept him from cumming for so damn long. He was fucking you for ages. Maybe it was much for you. He can’t think of what else could have compelled you to say you want a break.
“I’m obviously tired, Rafe,” you breathe. “In every possible way. Just let me…”
Your words fade into nothing once you look at him. He sees the same concerned expression you wore when you towelled the raindrops off of his face last night.
“What happened?” you ask, your voice soft.
He knows how rough he looks; he saw himself in the mirror this morning. His right eye is covered with an ugly purple splotch that spreads down to his cheekbone. Evidence of the fight he got into last night. He doesn’t want to think about it.
So, he resorts to what he does best and tries to suffocate the feeling with sex.
“You wanna make me feel better?” he asks suggestively, cocking his head. He hopes he has the effect on you that he usually does.
You’re motionless, your eyes still hard on his face. Okay. Now he’s fucking desperate.
“Please?”
Did he really just say that?
The corner of your lips curl up into a small smile. He’s embarrassed, but thank fuck you don’t look angry anymore.
“Are you… begging me?” you ask. Your voice is back to that playful tone he’s used to.
His hand is still curled around your wrist, tense that you’ll try to leave again.
“Come here,” he says.
“How bad do you want me?” you tease. He loathes when you fuck with him like this. But why does he kind of like it, too?
He only says your name in warning, even though he knows he doesn’t have the power here.
It’s so goddamn frustrating. He’s used to you doing what he wants. But after last night, after you mentioned a break, he realized he needs to feel needed by you. You’re the one actually in control here.
“I’m all you think about, right?” you goad him. “According to your text?”
Rafe pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. It’s humiliating how he typed out everything he was feeling last night.
“I was drunk,” he says defensively. Your smile drops and you start to twist your wrist out of his grip. Shit. Wrong thing to say. “But, yeah,” he adds. “You are.”
“You’re only saying that to get laid,” you murmur.
“I’m not,” he admits. He takes a breath. “All I do is… wait until the next time I can see you.”
Rafe’s not looking at you as he stammers his way through his words.
“That’s what you meant last night?” you ask him. He thinks back to the way he had you bent over the table, stupidly saying he’s the one who always has to wait.
He needs to fuck. Now. He can’t take this feelings shit.
Once he finally meets your eyes again, he’s relieved to see that your stare has softened. You turn to move towards him and his muscles immediately lose their tension.
You straddle him and the way your thighs box him in like this feels so fucking good that he forgets he’s hungover.
You start to grind against him and the thrilling promise of satisfaction washes over him, his boxers getting tighter as he gets harder.
“Does this help?” you whisper. He watches you through low lids, his hands on your thighs.
“Yeah, like that,” he groans. “Good girl.”
He slides his hands up to grip your waist and beckons you to lean over so he can kiss you, but you stiffen and reject the advance. Whatever. You must still be kind of pissed off, but he’s not about to stop what’s happening.
You sit up straighter and pull your dress up over your body, tossing it on the floor.
Rafe’s eyes hungrily trail down your body. Every time he sees your body or even just thinks about it, arousal burns through him.
He hates the feeling of you getting off of him, but once he realizes you’re taking off your panties and straddling him to fuck him in reverse cowgirl, his head feels like it’s spinning.
The sight of your bare ass perched on his pelvis is mind-blowing. He feels you pull down his boxers just enough to take his cock out, your hand running up and down his length.
You stroke him to get him fully erect, which barely takes any time. He gets hard for you in seconds.
When you lower onto him, he exhales in pure elation. You’re so wet and tight and soft and the moan you let out when you fill yourself with him is so fucking pretty.
You finally put all your weight on his hips, your hands stabilizing yourself on his knees. It’s heaven the way you squeeze him so damn tight.
You start to rock on him and his eyes drink in the way his cock is burying into you, the way your pussy looks stretched out like this.
Rafe looks over at the mirror mounted on his closet door to watch you arch your back and start to bounce on him. He doesn’t know which vantage point is hotter.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “Look how fucking good you look.”
You meet his eyes in the mirror, your lips puckered as you hold back your moans. That look is for him only. He can’t stand the thought of you doing it for another man.
He watches you put your hand on your clit, touching yourself while you ride him. There’s something so fucking hot to him about how you know your body and how you shamelessly chase your own pleasure.
Rafe looks forward again, taking in the way your ass is bouncing on him, the way your back is curved, the way your cunt is clinging to his cock with every recoil.
He feels himself getting to the edge. He shuts his eyes in an attempt to delay it so you’ll get there first. Cumming will remind you of how good this arrangement between you is and you’ll forget this stupid ‘take a break’ idea.
You start to writhe even faster and breathe even quicker. He knows he’ll finish before you at this rate, so he buries his fingertips into your hips and holds you down to stop you from moving anymore.
“Why?” you whine, needy.
“Sit on my face,” he orders.
You lift your hips off of him, his cock popping out of you, glossed with your wetness. You obey and shift back on your knees.
You lower your core onto his mouth. Rafe fucking loves the way you taste. He puts his lips on you, rolling his tongue out over your velvet folds.
When he feels your hot mouth wrap around his cock, he exhales sharply. He sucks and licks you as he revels in the feeling of your tongue flicking up and down his length.
The way you’re pleasing each other at the same time makes his stomach tighten with something he’s still not used to. His body hasn’t ever reacted like this during sex, but it keeps doing this lately with you.
Rafe shoves away the thought.
He hooks his arm around you, dipping two fingers inside and curling them as he eats you out, eager to get you to cum.
Your breath is shaky, your hole tightening around his fingers. The way you looked at him when you told him you needed a break last night flashes through his mind again, pissing him off all over again.
“Nobody else can make you feel like this, hmm?” he mutters, his lips wet from you.
“Rafe…” Your voice is thin.
“Answer me.”
“No,” you tell him.
“And you want a break?” he huffs. “Do I need to fuck some sense into you?”
You’re silent, your mouth sliding up and down his cock, palming him. Frustration rises in him when you don’t answer. He needs the control. He needs to know how badly you want him.
“Do I?” he asks angrily, fingers slipping out of you to slap your ass. Your back arches at the impact, bucking up off of his face. “Do you need to watch me fuck you to get it through your head?”
Rafe pushes through the stiffness of his hangover to press against the backs of your thighs, forcing you to sit up.
“Get on your knees,” he says. “In front of the mirror.”
You groan out of irritation, but you listen to his instructions like the good girl he knows you are.
His eyes remain locked on you as you get up off of him and settle on all fours in front of the mirror on the floor, looking back at him with those beautiful eyes.
Rafe guides himself into you, finding bliss all over again. He lustfully looks at your reflection and sees the necklace he gave you hanging on your neck. It starts to swing as he thrusts into you, a reminder of how you belong to him.
Every plunge into you is fucking perfect. You squeeze his cock so nicely.
When you tighten around him, your breath hitched, he has no chance of stopping himself anymore - he cums at the same time as you, his moan tangling with yours.
Rafe can see stars as you tremble beneath him. He feels you take in everything he has to offer.
“Damn,” he says gruffly. He can’t stop himself from teasing you. “Sleeping and fucking on the clock. You’re looking to get fired.”
You let out a weak laugh and pull away from him. You stand to pick your uniform up off the floor, giving him another view of your hot, quivering body.
“Tell on me, then,” you challenge. You walk to his ensuite, shutting the door behind you. He’s sure that you know he’d never risk letting you get fired and losing this access to you.
Rafe’s heart is racing. How does every time he has sex with you feel better than the last?
He gets back into bed and pulls his cool comforter over his bare body, coming down from the high. He’s needs to figure out why the hell you’re retreating from him. And he’s determined to show you why you shouldn’t.
But with the hangover and lack of rest, Rafe falls asleep before you step back out into his room.
୨ᰔ୧
You couldn’t let Rafe kiss you. You’ll allow that sort of tenderness if, and only if, you’re more than a sex toy to him, and all signs point to that possibility being a big, ugly no.
When you step back into his bedroom to see that he fell asleep, you take a second, just a second, to look at him.
His lips are slightly pursed, his hair a tousled mess. The bruise on his swollen eye looks painful. You wish you knew what happened. You figure you’ll ask him tonight when he inevitably comes over.
As you make your way to the kitchen, the rush from the sex you just had starts to dissipate and you realize you shouldn’t have done it. You have heavy, unavoidable feelings for Rafe. You said you needed a break. Giving into the temptation was stupid.
But the way he was looking at you, holding your wrist… You couldn’t ignore the magnetic pull you seem to have for each other.
The self-destructive hope flares up as you think about what he said today. It rattled you. He thinks about you? He’s always waiting to see you again? It can’t all be sexual, can it?
You’re desperate to know what’s going through his mind.
You begrudgingly accept that because of the time you spent sleeping and having sex with Rafe, you’ll need to stay late to complete all your tasks today.
After finishing up your work in the kitchen an hour later, you head out to the backyard to throw out a few bags.
You give a polite smile to the gardener, who’s standing by the gazebo. Your mind flashes back to what happened when Rafe caught you talking to him.
Rafe’s possessiveness couldn’t possibly be purely sexual. Not after the way he looked at you once you reassured him he was the only man who could touch you.
You drop the bags in the bin and turn to head back inside, but get stopped in your tracks.
“You should be careful.”
You look up to realize the gardener is speaking to you. Your brows furrow in confusion.
“What?” you ask.
“I overheard him talking about you.“
“Sorry?” you repeat.
“The son. I heard him.” Anxiety fills your veins. He wouldn’t know Rafe’s name - he’s just the son of the millionaire you’re all working for.
He heard Rafe say something about you? You decide to play dumb. You have to. You could lose your job.
“What are you talking about?” you ask.
“He was with his friends out on the balcony a few days ago,” he says. “I was working and I heard him say that he’s… uh, nailing a maid.”
The word seems to make him uncomfortable. You’re so used to Rafe’s vulgarity that you forgot some people blush at a crude word.
Honestly, you expected Rafe to brag to his friends about fucking you. But you didn’t expect a coworker to hear.
You remember watching him through the window that day. Sending him that explicit video. Slowly developing feelings for him when you knew you shouldn’t.
“What, and you think it’s me?” you say with a laugh. Maybe there’s a chance you can convince him that Rafe was lying or that the conversation wasn’t about you.
“People have been talking… Apparently you got caught in the laundry room?” he says.
Shit. All that other maid saw was Rafe in the same room as you. That was it. You didn’t expect to make friends at this job, but this is ridiculous. Do they have nothing better to do but gossip?
You’ve been found out.
“Please don’t… say anything,” you finally say quietly. “I can’t lose this job.”
“I won’t. And I’m not judging,” he says, but he definitely is. You can see it in his expression. “Just wanted to tell you that I heard some… bad stuff.”
“What?” You cross your arms, feigning confidence.
“He told his friends that you’ll do anything he wants you to,” he says. “And that you never say no.”
“Okay,” you say. You’re trying to keep your gaze steady. This is humiliating. But it’s all true and not a surprise. You didn’t expect any better from Rafe.
“And one of them said something like… that’s the type of… um…” He looks nervous again.
“Just say it.”
“The type of… slut you run through then drop when she gets boring.”
This is what finally breaks you. You only nod, trying to seem unaffected.
“What did he say to that?” you ask. You hate that you have a little bit of hope that Rafe would defend you, show a shred of respect for you.
“They all just laughed.”
Your heart sinks.
Of course that’s what Rafe thinks of you. Of course to him, you’re just a whore that he’ll get tired of eventually. You shouldn’t have ever given him the power to disappoint you.
For fuck’s sake, you asked him point blank over text last night if all he wants to do is fuck and he replied with a clear YES.
“Okay,” you say, turning away before he can see the tears welling up in your eyes.
“Sorry. Thought you’d want to know,” he says to your back. “These rich guys are all assholes.”
“Yup,” you reply, walking away.
You don’t even give a fuck about your job anymore. It’d be better if you lost it so you don’t have to see Rafe ever again.
This is fucking agony. You feel so dehumanized.
When you make it home that evening, two hours later than usual, you type a text you mentally drafted on your drive home.
You open the conversation with one of your close friends from college and text her: hey, are there any parties tonight?
Getting drunk and partying is not a healthy way to cope, you know that, but you desperately need to get your mind off of things. Thankfully, your friend responds quickly about a party at a frat house on campus.
After you get ready, you take a cab to the address your friend sent you. It doesn’t take you long to find her and start downing shots.
Your phone buzzes, right on cue. It’s 10 pm, after all. He’s waiting for you on that depraved website where it all began. The text is blurry through your tipsy eyes.
Rafe: where are you?
You finally send him the message you’ve been toiling over, anger and disgust and embarrassment and sadness heavy on your chest.
You: i’m done. this is over. i’m not even a fucking person to you am i
{ read part twelve here }
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“Robbie is gone! I’m still here! And I refuse to live in his shadow!”
Rastapopoulos himself may be out of the picture, but his ghost continues to haunt those who were caught in his web.
A collaboration with @aboardthescheherazade using her OC Marlene Katz - an actress Tintin tries to save in Cigars of the Pharaoh!
Five years later and Tintin is baffled to see Hollywood starlet Marlene Katz turn up at his doorstep asking for help. Formerly under the thumb of Cosmos Pictures, Marlene became an unsuspecting witness to Rastapopoulos’ criminal activity and now the mob is after her, seeking to tie up some loose ends. To top things off, she is due to make a public appearance at The Golden Palm, a prestigious film festival. After years of hiding, Marlene is determined to get her acting career back on track, and this film may be her big break.
Tintin is highly suspicious. Chang, on the other hand, is utterly star struck, and after noticing an uncanny resemblance between the two hatches a ridiculous scheme that may finally put an end to this particular problem. It might just work, but Marlene makes the last minute decision to also go undercover, feeling immense guilt over having Tintin and Chang risk their lives for her.
While Tintin is running around in heels and beating up mobsters Haddock is away on a weekend break with Ramo Nash. Before leaving he asked Chang to keep Tintin away from any incidents and to promise not to throw any house parties.
This was my first collab on this blog and I had a lot of fun bouncing ideas off with Vaye. Her blog was one of the first Tintin blogs I followed - definitely check it out, it’s an absolute treasure trove of resources and research! Below are a few notes of stuff we discussed while making this:
- After the Blue Lotus, Marlene breaks away from Rastapopoulos and pulls back from the film industry to lay low, teaching dance classes instead. He keeps trying to come back to her, leaving her exhausted and paranoid. Since Rastapopoulos always considered Marlene to be pretty stupid he never made much of an effort to properly hide his criminal activities from her, but Marlene was able to slowly piece things together...
- This adventure takes place after St. Benezet’s Basement (the boarding school story) and before Call of the Songbird (Tintin Fucks Up and Steals A Whistle). Tintin is still in the grips of trauma from the canon stories. Chang is starting to settle in. Haddock and Nash’s relationship is in full swing, but they are keeping things quiet from everyone else. 
- In some sketchbook comics I did to flesh out ideas there’s hints of Tintin being gay and asexual, his complete lack of interest in Hollywood actresses and his mild irritation of people’s judgements being clouded by crushes! Chang’s attraction to Marlene however, foreshadows his feelings for Tintin later on down the line.
- There’s a role reversal theme going on here. Both Tintin and Marlene are victims of Rastapopoulos but in very different ways. By playing each others’ roles they both can get a clearer picture of how Rastapopoulos hurt people, and therefore a better understanding of their own traumas. Tintin is usually spontaneous and rarely makes himself known, but here he is playing a set character. Marlene as an actress, on the other hand, is used to receiving direction from others, but circumstance pushes her to improvise. I can imagine her using her skills as an actor to get into character as an ace reporter to fake some much needed bravery!
- Marlene’s disguise is literally just stuff she pulls from Tintin’s and Chang’s closets. She’s wearing Tintin’s trenchcoat, dress shirt and suspenders and Chang’s spectator shoes, trousers and scarf!
- Marlene is a very skittish person but will be compelled to do what she believes is the right thing. As Vaye put it, “Marlene’s bravery under fire is that she’s like the one person in a room who’s willing to get a spider outside...” Marlene is also older than Tintin and pretty much views him as a child, even though he’s in his early 20s at this point. She feels incredibly guilty about what Rastapopoulos did to him and the fact he’s risking his life for her. She feels some level of responsibility for him.
This all started because I thought it would be cool for Tintin to beat some guys up in drag
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chuluoyi · 5 months
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drunken angel
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- nanami kento x reader
shibuya? what shibuya? nanami's picking me up right now!
genre/warnings: fluff, comfort
note: they did say... delulu is solulu
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
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You giggled uncontrollably as you were seated in the backseat of a cab.
"Kentooo," you gripped his necktie with this ridiculously wide grin on your face. The world was a really happy place for you now, even if it was a little spinning and you felt a bit foggy.
Nanami sighed, resigned. It wasn't typical for you to get drunk, but when you did, you became quite a handful. “Come now.”
You let out a whine, and as he himself took a seat beside you, you wrapped your arm around his waist, nuzzling your face into him.
—and clingy. You became at least thrice clingier than you usually do.
"Love you, mwah!" you slurred with literal hearts in your eyes, batting your lashes at him. Nanami maintained a deadpan expression while looking at you.
Still, he couldn't deny the thumping of his own heart when those words slipped from your sweet lips, thinking how absolutely adorable you were while at it.
He had been scheduled for a mission near Shibuya, anticipating a night of exorcising curses and returning to find you asleep in your shared apartment. But no, something seemed to have irked you tonight as you went and got wasted, and he found it out only after you called him in your drunken stupor, asking to be picked up.
Of course, he would come to get you. Finishing off those measly curses swiftly, he hurried to your location in no time at all.
You looked up at him with watery eyes, frowning at his lack of reply. “Kento, y'know that… right? Riiight?”
"I do," he gruffly replied, mindful of the taxi driver's amused chuckle. "Don't talk too much now. You're drunk."
"But I want to talk, Kento!"
Nanami shot an apologetic glance at the driver through the rearview mirror, and adjusted your position so that you could rest your head more comfortably on his shoulder.
"I love your smile," you sighed against the soft fabric of his suit. "You look most handsome when you do..."
“Hmm?" Nanami watched you, feeling his face getting warmer despite himself. Okay, you were a clingy drunk, but you were sweet.
"And I love... how considerate you are..."
"Mm-hm."
"But... I just wish... you would take care of yourself more."
Your words caught him off guard. "I already do, love."
"You don't," you spat petulantly, your gaze dropping with dejection.
"How so?"
You were no longer bubbly—you looked like you had been awake for three days straight and it finally caught up to you, as you finally succumbed to exhaustion. You had the appearance of a kicked puppy and Nanami swore you were the cutest girl he knew while being drunk.
"You're always rushing headfirst into danger. You'd do anything for kids. Especially that… Itadowi kid!" you pointed out with a deep crease on your forehead, clearly dissatisfied.
It wasn’t the first time. Nanami knew better—he didn’t miss the worry in your eyes as you saw him off, and the evident relief on your face as you hugged him whenever he came back. It was just that you didn’t voice it as much.
“I’m just… worried that…” you mumbled with a pout, totally heartbroken, “one day… you might…”
And the fact that you still felt like that even in your half-conscious state… his heart broke a little inside.
He waited for you to continue with somewhat of a bated breath, when suddenly you leaned back on the seat and pressed your eyes together, wincing, “Ah… my head’s spinnin’”
Nanami’s face flashed with surprise and then understanding as he clasped your hand in reassurance. “Soon. We’ll arrive at our place soon. You’re going to bed then, okay?”
Even when he knew that getting drunk warranted your current state, it still made something inside him churn with concern. Nanami never liked seeing you in any kind of discomfort, no matter how trivial it was.
Upon returning to your place, Nanami took charge. He helped you change into your sleepwear, and gently removed your makeup as best as he could (he confused cleanser with micellar water). Even as your vision swayed and blurred, you recognized the way he lifted you and carried you to the bed, carefully tucking you in to ensure you were settled in as comfortably as possible.
You had this dopey smile on your face as soon as he slipped beside you in his own pajamas, blearily looking at him.
“Kento, you’re…” you whispered, still under the alcohol’s influence and yet sounded so incredibly sincere. “You’re s’good to me…”
Gods, so endearing, Nanami thought to himself. It felt nice to hear you say that, but more than that, you were completely vulnerable, trusting him entirely with your essence, and you were his—his cherished angel.
“Don’t go…” you added, the smile vanished into a sad frown. “Don’t ever leave me…”
"I won't," he replied firmly, cupping your cheeks and pressing his lips on your temple. "I'm not going anywhere, yeah? You have nothing to worry about."
It was never in him to to say much, but when he did, he meant every word of it.
“Mmm, but…”
"Sleep now, love," he muttered, enveloping you in his embrace. He pulled the covers around both of you. Nestled in his sturdy arms, you fit perfectly. His hands rubbed up and down your spine, and you sighed.
“Mmm, wuv you so, so much,” you slurred for the nth time tonight, eyes closing and a step away from going to dreamland.
In that moment, Nanami made a silent vow to do whatever it took to ensure you remained safe and happy like this always.
You were the reason—the only person for whom he would set the world ablaze, even at his own expense.
Ah, but he wouldn’t let that happen now, would he? How was he supposed to put a ring on your finger if he was gone?
“I love you too… my dearest.”
. . .
and you thought then, that you just had the most beautiful dream—one where you were right where he was.
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alltheirdamn · 2 months
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DECLINED | Mechanic!Joel x f!reader
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PART 3
Summary: Swear? On my life. Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 4.1k Warnings: Pre-outbreak (AU), mechanic!joel, oral (f + m receiving), fingering, squirting, deepthroating, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, body worship, spanking, unprotected piv sex, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (darlin', babydoll, cowboy), rough sex, creampie, mirror sex, shower sex, playful banter and teasing, so much fluff it'll make your teeth ache, porn WITH plot now A/N: I really just want to thank EVERYONE for all the love on this lil fic. It was really only meant to be a small one-shot for shits and giggles and you guys just made it mean so much more to me ;') I hope I did their love story justice <3
Masterlist | Ko-fi
“I think this is the last of it,” you huffed, handing Joel the final box off the moving truck.
It had been six months of long-distance before Joel finally put his foot down and demanded that you move in with him and his daughter Sarah. It didn’t take much coaxing since you were just as impatient as he was to live together. You had been practically glued to your cell phone over those six months, always staying up late talking to him. You learned all about him: his career, his life in Austin, his daughter, and his wife, who had left him after she was born. You came to find he was a fantastic listener, too. He’d sit there and listen to you babble on and on about your job at the marketing agency and how traffic in California always pissed you off. Once in a while, he’d hum in agreement with your complaints but always found a way to shut you up with sweet words…or dirty ones. It was no surprise to you that he had a filthy fucking mouth when he wanted to turn you on…which happened all the time.
You followed him into the house and up the stairs to the bedroom, where he set the box on the ground. Exhausted, you flung yourself onto the bed, exhaling a sigh of relief to be done moving finally. Joel plopped down next to you, staring off into the ceiling fan with an even louder exhale.
“Not sure why you’re huffin’ and puffin’, babydoll. I did all the heavy lifting,” he said, his voice soft and teasing.
You rolled onto your side, glaring at him with sweat still dripping down your face.
“In case you haven’t noticed,” you grumbled. “I’m not used to this damn humidity. It’s almost fucking eighty degrees in December! This is ridiculous.” 
“Aw, s’my girl missing the coast?” he feigned a pouty face.
“Fuck off,” you scoffed, rolling over to face the other direction.
“I’m just kiddin’, darlin’. I’m happy you’re here.”
“I am, too,” you sighed. 
Joel moved with you, the steady warmth of his back pressing against your body. You nuzzled into him, breathing in synchronicity, a moment of stillness in the chaos. You were home.
“Joel,” you whispered. 
“Yeah, babydoll?” He asked, pressing a gentle kiss against your neck.
“I need you.”
Moving your bodies in unison, Joel rolled on top of you, holding your face in his hands. He was softer than before, his eyes washing over you with a happiness you could only have dreamed of. You arched into his touch, pressing your lips to his for a slow, hungry kiss. His mouth moved on yours with such ferocity you had no choice but to surrender completely.
“S’all you needed, babydoll?” Joel murmured against your open mouth. “Just some attention and lovin’?”
“Maybe just a lil’ bit,” you confessed.
“Sarah’s not gonna be home from school for ‘few hours,” he mused. “Reckon, I can give you all the attention you want.”
You tugged at the hem of his shirt, giving him a playful grin. In a matter of seconds, you were both fully undressed. Joel leaned back on his heels, taking in your naked body spread across his linen bed sheets. His hand wrapped around one of your ankles, his fingers slowly sliding up your calf and thigh. He never took his eyes off of yours as his hands continued roaming over the curves and planes of your body; each brush of his finger a shockwave through your skin.
“If I ain’t the luckiest son ‘a bitch alive,” he shook his head, smiling down at you. 
“You’re not too bad yourself, cowboy,” you replied.
Joel was fucking gorgeous…everywhere. You knew all this time he was broad and muscular under that damn black shirt, but seeing his bare chest on display was something else. A spattering of hair covered his chest and down his stomach, a dark trail of it leading to his hardened cock. Every inch of him was defined, yet so soft, from how his biceps tensed and flexed to the curve of his stomach as his waist tapered down. You wanted to spend eternity exploring each freckle and mole, connecting the space between them on his tanned skin with an array of kisses. 
Cupping one of your breasts, Joel bent down to capture your lips again, his other hand falling between your inner thighs. Your arousal coated his fingers as he slid them between your legs, teasing you with the pad of his thumb against your clit.
“Can’t believe this is s’all mine,” he whispered into your ear. “You hear me, darlin’? You’re all mine.”
“I’m yours,” you agreed.
Joel’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes drawn to where his fingers worked at your body. You whimpered and spread your legs wider, urging him to keep touching you. You never wanted him to stop, never wanted these moments to end. Your hands tangled in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. 
“What ya’ want, darlin’? Use those words.”
“You…I—I want you,” you panted. “I want your cock, please.”
“Want it or need it?” He questioned, applying more pressure to your throbbing clit.
“Need it!” You cried.
Joel pushed two fingers inside you, stretching you out as he curled them deep inside you. He was teasing you slowly, pulling those embarrassing sounds from your mouth as you clenched around his fingers. Your body lit up as the pleasure built slowly, warmth spreading through your core. His fingers curled harder, hitting you at that blinding spot that made time suspend around you. All you could do was cry as the ecstasy swelled inside you, your hands clutching his neck to keep you grounded.
“Listen to those pretty lil’ sounds,” Joel hummed. “Fuckin’ love hearin’ ya cry out for me.”
“I—fuck! Fuck, Joel, please!” you begged. “God, please!” 
“Please, what, darlin’? Y’wanna cum? Is that what ya want?”
You twisted your face into the pillow, muffling a scream as your body tensed up one final time before you were drenching him with your release, the sheets under you becoming a complete mess. Your walls clenched around his fingers, pulsing through each ripple of your orgasm. Joel pulled his fingers from you slowly, your body sinking into the mattress as you removed your face from the pillows. Gazing up at him with heavy eyes, you watched as he brought his pointer finger to his mouth, wrapping his lips around the digit. Enamored, you stared in stunned silence as he licked away your arousal. Drawing it from his mouth, he pressed his middle finger against your parted lips, coaxing them open.
“Taste yourself, babydoll,” he ordered. 
Taking his finger in your mouth, you swirled your tongue, collecting the remnants of your cum. His pupils were blown wide as he watched you, the corners of his mouth twitching with an approving smile. He pressed his finger on your tongue, adding another as he pushed them further back.
“There ya’ go, darlin’,” he said, his voice rugged and dark.
You squirmed under him, needing more. A string of saliva dripped off your bottom lip as he pulled his fingers from your mouth, trailing them down your chin and throat. His hands reached down to hold your hips, flipping you over to your stomach. Hauling you onto all fours, he pressed the tip of cock to your entrance, giving you no time to prepare as he drove into you. The air was knocked out of your lungs as he buried himself deep, holding you steady until he started moving. And when he began moving… he was relentless. Your hands tried to make purchase on the headboard as he railed into you, his hips snapping at a violent pace. 
Your orgasm was tearing through you in no time, your cunt squeezing his cock into a vice as warm liquid dripped down your thighs. Joel growled behind you, his fingers bruising your hip bones.
“That’s it, there’s my good girl. Fuckin’ drenching’ my cock.”
His hand came off your hips, delivering a round of slaps against your ass that had you wailing in pleasure. The sting of his hand on your skin was enough to send you over the edge again, that desperate need to cum stirring inside you. 
“Joel!” you shouted. “I—I’m gonna cum again, please!”
“I know, babydoll, I know,” he crooned. “I got you.”
You white-knuckled the headboard, another rush of liquid gushing out of you. You were overstimulated and crying as he kept a brutal pace. Another spank, another drive of his cock inside you… over and over in repetition. 
“Gonna fill this pussy up,” he grunted. “Y’want my cum, babydoll?”
Words wouldn’t form on your lips; you could only wag your head in approval, needing him to fill you full. Joel wrapped your hair around his fist and pulled your body against his, your back meeting his sweaty chest. He slowed his pace, fucking you deeper and more rhythmically until he was panting in your ear as he caved into his release. You moved in unison, bodies heaving for air as the world dissolved around you. He held you against him for a minute, his teeth grazing your shoulder.
“Did so fuckin’ good for me,” he whispered against your skin.
You whimpered at his praises, letting your body sag into his embrace. Leaning your head back on his shoulder, you hummed in contentment, sinking into the press of his body against yours. Everything felt so right. Three little words were bubbling to the surface, but you swallowed them, too afraid to speak them aloud. You didn’t know if it was too soon; you were so caught up in the moment that you weren’t thinking straight.
“I think I need a nap after that,” you chuckled, leaving those words tucked away in your head.
“Bed s’all yours, darlin’,” Joel said, unsticking his body from yours.
You curled under the covers, his scent enveloping you as you nestled into the bed. Joel leaned down to kiss your forehead, smoothing out your hair. Through heavy lids, you gazed up at him and smiled. 
“Get some sleep, babydoll. I’ll be ‘round the house unboxing stuff ‘til you’re up.”
“Thanks, cowboy.”
**
December passed by in a blissful blur, every day bringing something new. You had found a new job at a marketing agency in Austin, spending the usual 8-5 huddle in groups as you worked through different projects. Joel was always home before you, a plate of dinner waiting on the table for you and Sarah. You teased him constantly about the grease marks on his arms after his long days at work and made sure to tease you right back for the dress and heels you wore every day—which somehow always ended up with you naked on the bed, still wearing your stilettos as he fucked you into the mattress.
It was Christmas morning, and you were waiting downstairs by the tree with Sarah. You both had devised a plan to surprise him with a new watch; his old one had cracked at work while he was elbow-deep working on an old Mustang engine. He never mentioned needing a new one, but you noticed how he would absentmindedly look at his bare wrist at breakfast time each morning.
“You think he’ll like it?” Sarah asked nervously, handing over the grey box to you.
“He’ll love it,” you assured her.
You were nestled into the couch in one of Joel’s shirts and sweats, waiting for the man himself to finish up in the kitchen. Walking into the living room, Joel had his hands full with two cups of coffee and a glass of orange juice squeezed between the crook of his elbow. He grunted at Sarah to grab the glass of orange juice, extending the extra coffee mug to you as he dropped onto the couch cushions.
“Alright,” He yawned. “Let’s see what the fat man got y’all.”
Sarah tore into her presents, squealing at the heaps of new clothes and accessories she pulled from each box. You stole a glance at Joel, watching him look at his daughter with so much love and happiness. You had caught him giving you that same look from time to time, sometimes when you were walking out of the shower or when you were curled up on the couch together watching shitty action films. Maybe he did lov—.
“Open your present, Dad!” Sarah exclaimed, dragging you from your wandering thoughts. “We got you something special!”
“Y’did, huh?” Joel looked at you with skepticism. 
You held out the box to him, shrugging with nonchalance.
“Surprise, cowboy,” you grinned.
He did a double take at the box in your hand, shock written all over his features. You looked over at Sarah, who was practically buzzing with anticipation as she waited for her dad to open his gift. Taking the box in his hands, Joel’s eyes shifted between you and Sarah, his big brown eyes softening.
“Y’all really ain’t had to do anything,” he protested. “Got all I need right here.”
You reached over to squeeze his knee, urging him just to open the damned thing. He caved, flipping open the lid to reveal his new watch. The wraps on the watch were made from military green nylon, and the face of it was made from black mineral glass that would be durable and long-lasting. It wasn’t anything flashy or extravagant; you and Sarah knew he’d hate that. 
Joel wrapped his hands around the nylon, holding it as he sat silently. You craned your neck to get a better look at his face; his brows furrowed, and his lips downturned.
“You hate it, huh?” Sarah asked quietly. 
“What?” Joel shook his head. “God no, sweetheart, I love it. Thank you.”
Sarah’s face perked up at his words, and she hauled herself up from the floor to give him a big embrace. You sat back and let them have their moment, enjoying the warmth floating around the room. Joel looked over Sarah’s shoulder at you, mouthing a soft thank you. 
Of course, you mouthed back.
He squeezed Sarah one last time before breaking the hug, ruffling her hair as she pulled away. He worked the watch around his wrist, clasping it on and admiring it against his tanned skin. 
“S’too much,” he mumbled. “Ain’t deserve these nice things.” 
“Yes, you do,” you responded.
Joel shook his head, for once at a loss for words. Sarah glanced between you both on the couch and gave you a small smile before grabbing her opened presents and disappearing to her room. You turned your attention back to Joel, already finding his eyes settled on you. 
“S’real nice of y’all to do this,” he sighed. “I really ‘ppreciate it.”
“She just wanted to do something special for you,” you said, scooting closer to him. “She loves you.”
“I know, I know.”
Joel hauled you into his lap, pulling your arms around his neck before his own settled around your waist. You leaned in close, brushing your nose against his before kissing his lips softly. Those words you had shoved down were coming back up again, crawling through your chest and banging to come out. You couldn’t wrangle them down this time.
“Joel, I—.”
“Don’t,” he whispered.
Your stomach dropped, the happiness you had felt crumbling away. Of course, it was too soon; you had been stupid to think he was ready to hear those words…or even reciprocate them. You chewed on your lip, trying—and failing—to hide your disappointment.
“Don’t say it,” he continued. “I wanna say it first. I love you, babydoll. S’fucking much.”
His features began to blur as tears fell against your cheeks.
“Swear?” You asked.
“On my life.”
Cupping your face in his large hands, Joel pulled you in for a deep kiss, his tongue tracing over your bottom lip as you surrendered to his touch. Your mouths moved together, hands roaming skin, sounds escaping in breathy moans. You hadn’t expected to fall for him so fast—or fall for him at all. It wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did, and you were happier because of it. 
“I love you, too, cowboy,” you whispered.
Later that night, Joel had you laid out on the bed upside down, your head dangling off the edge as you watched him above you through the mirror beside the bed. You could see his lips pressed against your stomach; you could feel the warmth of his mouth on your skin. 
“Watch me, babydoll,” he instructed. “Don’t take those pretty eyes off the mirror.”
You groaned as his tongue glided over your clit, each lick soft and slow. You bit your lip, trying to stifle your whines, knowing Sarah was only a few feet down the hall. You kept your eyes trained on the mirror, watching as Joel’s mouth worked at your wet cunt. His nose rubbed against your clit as he plunged his tongue inside you, a traitorous moan falling from your mouth. His eyes connected with yours through the mirror, the brown in his irises nearly black in the dim lights of the bedroom.
“Quiet, darlin’,” he warned. “Be good for me.”
“I’ll be good,” you promised. 
“That’s my girl.”
Then his mouth was back on you. He guided you toward the edge of your orgasm, keeping you suspended between bliss and delirium. You couldn’t hold on any longer, white-hot pleasure electrifying your nerves and spotting your vision. Joel kissed each of your thighs, raising his head to capture your gaze again, a lopsided grin plastered on his wet lips. You tilted your head up, the blood rushing back to the surface as you settled into the bed. Joel crawled up your body, caging you between his muscular arms. 
“So damn beautiful, babydoll,” he praised. 
“You’re not so bad yourself, cowboy.”
He smiled wider, pushing your legs apart as he lined up with your entrance. Breaking you open slowly, Joel rocked into you, his pace slow and sensual. You melted against him, the press of his skin on yours enough to send another wave of pleasure through your core. Your fingers flexed against the solid muscles of his back, his shoulder blades moving with each roll of his hips. Joel’s hand slid down your leg, cupping the underside of your knee as he hauled your leg higher, forcing himself deeper into you. 
“Joel,” you whimpered quietly. “Feel’s so fucking good.”
“I know, babydoll,” he whispered. “S’like you were made for me.”
You were mindless as another spasm tore through you, your legs shaking around his waist as your mouth dropped open in a silent cry. Joel chased his release moments later, spilling into you with a quiet slew of curses and grunts. He peppered your neck and jaw in an array of kisses, nipping at your earlobe with a string of praises falling off his tongue. 
He hauled you from the bed, carrying you into the bathroom, where you both stood under the spray of the hot water for nearly an hour. It wasn’t long before he had you pressed against the cold shower walls, pulling orgasm after orgasm from your body. 
Into the late hours of the night, you found yourself wrapped around Joel, your limbs intertwined under the comforter's warmth. Your head rested against his shoulder, fingers dancing over the hair across his chest. Joel’s thumb rubbed circles around your shoulder blade as he pulled you tighter to his body. The smell of sex and cedarwood filled the air inside the bedroom, and your eyes drifted closed while you focused on the sound of his breathing beside you.
“I love you, Joel,” you sighed, nuzzling into his embrace.
“I love you, darlin’. Always.”
**
The months faded away, the air turning warmer as summer crept in. Work had been picking up as the seasons changed, and your schedule was always packed from start to finish each day. On a particularly sunny day, you found yourself free for the afternoon after a long morning meeting. Driving through the town, you turned onto a street far too familiar to you now. Aside from Joel’s truck parked in the garage, the mechanic shop was empty. Smoothing down your pencil skirt, you exited your car with a devilish idea in mind. The bells above the door chimed as you waltzed into the waiting room with a devilish grin. Joel perked up from behind the counter, setting down the newspaper gripped between his hands. 
“What can I do for ya, miss?” Joel smirked, quickly feeding into your energy.
“Got myself a flat,” you feigned distress, leaning against the counter before him. “Can you help me out?”
“S’gonna cost ya,” he shrugged. 
“I’m all outta cash,” you whined, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. 
“Gotta credit card?” he questioned.
“It’ll get declined,” you pouted.
Joel let out a heavy breath, scratching his neck as he took you in your exaggerated appearance.
“Well, that’s got you in quite the predicament.”
“A pretty big one, huh?” You stifled a giggle. He knew what you were implying.
“I reckon we can work somethin’ out,” he insisted, nodding his head towards the back door. 
You followed him out to the garage, excitement bubbling to the surface. Joel leaned against the hood of his truck, tugging at your skirt to draw you closer, forcing you to stumble a bit in your heels. Wrapping a big arm around your waist, he pinned you to his body, his hand coming up to cradle your face. 
“Y’sure are somethin’, babydoll,” he said before leaning in for a hungry kiss. 
“Whatever do you mean?” you said sarcastically. “I’m just an innocent woman lookin’ for help.”
“Keep runnin’ that mouth of yours, darlin'. It’ll only get you in trouble,” he warned.
“What’re you gonna do about it, cowboy?” you taunted, running your hands under the fabric of his shirt. 
Grabbing the base of your throat with a strong hand, Joel forced you down to your knees. You stared up at him obediently, an eager smile on your lips. With his hand still wrapped around your neck, he used the other to free his cock from his jeans, rubbing the tip of it over your parted lips.
“Better make use of that fuckin’ mouth,” he growled. “Since ‘ya need that tire fixed so bad.”
“I’ll do anything,” you pleaded.
You took him into your mouth, rolling your tongue over the head of his cock. The taste of salty precum swirled around your mouth as you took him deeper, eliciting a satisfied rumble from his chest. Joel jerked his hips forward, forcing you to sputter around his cock as he hit the back of your throat. You hollowed out your cheeks, sucking him harder with each thrust of his hips. You reached up to cup his balls, running your fingers over the silken skin as he drove into your mouth over and over again.
“Open that pretty fuckin’ mouth, babydoll,” he instructed, his voice shaky.
You obliged, staring up at him with an open-mouthed grin. With a loud grunt and flex of his thighs, he coated your tongue in his release, some of it dripping off your lip. Your tongue darted out to catch it as Joel watched in a post-climax haze. His eyes were hooded and full of desire, and you could feel your cunt throbbing with need the longer he stared at you.
Standing on shaky legs, you reeled him in for a long kiss, the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. Joel deepened the kiss by twisting his tongue around yours, muffled sounds lost against your lips as he wrapped you into a tight embrace.
“So,” you drawled, pulling away from his hungry lips. “Think I can get that tire fixed?”
“I might be able to work somethin’ out,” he mused. “We can negotiate it over dinner.”
“Oh, you wanna wine and dine me now?”
“Damn right, I do,” he grinned. “Now, let’s go home so I can feast on you.”
“Take me home, cowboy.”
You both decided to leave your car parked at the shop and drive home together in his truck. With the console propped up, Joel had you pressed against his body, your eyes steadily watching him as he drove you home. Home. In the golden hour of sunset, you watched his eyes shimmer in flex of gold and auburn. His tan skin glowed in the sunlight, the silhouette of his face perfectly shadowed by the sun dipping below the horizon. He glanced down at you, a warm smile creasing the lines around his eyes. 
“What’s that look for, huh?” He squeezed your hip, his other hand gripping the wheel.
“I love you,” you sighed.
“I love you, too, babydoll. Always.”
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yanderenightmare · 1 year
Note
Yandere Satoru and Suguru sharing a darling is what makes me OwO
Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru
TW: yandere, noncon, condescension
fem reader
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It wasn’t really that you were weak… You were just unfortunate.
Unfortunate – to have been placed in the same year as them – Gojo and Geto, the two most promising students Jujutsu High had ever seen.
If only you would keep a lower profile like Shoko – and not be so determined to become the best – you’d be better off and not wind up on your ass each and every day sparring with the two boys – who really were the best. 
But something about their high-and-mighty attitude just makes them impossible for you to ignore.
The way they taunt and jeer, grinning their shit-eating grins – grinding your gears to no end – forcing you to try about anything to just, at least once, come out on top. 
Like now, in the padded sparring room – where you, again, could only barely find a foot to stand on – with what ground you had managed to keep thus far, visibly only thanks to your cocky opponent allowing it.
“You sure you wanna be a jujutsu sorcerer?” Gojo asked nonchalantly, his lanky arms slung around your smaller body with ease, resting his chin off the nook of your neck – unbothered by how you tried and struggled to shake him off.
You were dewy-faced and panting already while he hadn’t even broken a sweat yet. And it only aided in making your head grow ever hotter with vexation. “Take this seriously-” You growled back at him.
But he ignored you – the same way he ignored whatever amount of cursed energy you tried fighting him with. “I mean… I’m sure there are a lot of other things you’d be better suited for.”
After all… the last thing you’d want is for him to take this seriously. 
“Tch- like what exactly?” You bit out, hating his suggestive tone though needing him distracted with the conversation – thinking it would be a good stall to give you some much-needed rest where you stood, trying to hide how tired you were – forcing heavy breaths into smaller ones that made your lungs ache for air and your cheeks burn with embarrassment.
Your weapon had already been thrown to the other side of the room – burst into a shattered broken mess of fragments you wouldn’t even be able to butter toast with anymore. And it hadn’t been the first one. In fact, the entire arsenal had been turned to splinters, leaving you to fight the boy who’d broken them all with only your hands to spare.
“Oh- you know….” He drawled, thinking it cute how you tried withholding your exhaustion from him. Pulling you a little closer to his chest – snuggling into you while thinking – his tongue out in concentration before calling out to the other boy. “Oh- help me out, Suguru.”
Geto sat waiting his turn next to the door, smiling like a cat with eyes closed. “Hmm… something cute…” He began before answering. “Like a maid.” 
You sneered – eyes lowering into a glare at the raven-haired boy who still, without a hitch, kept calmly smiling back at you.
Gojo offered a small snicker, adding to the ridicule, before whispering. “Or a housepet.” His voice, low and mocking in its whispering, yet loud right at your ear – with lips brushing your ear in a way you could tell he was smirking like his equally grating friend.
And it all just coaxed another spur of much-unrewarded effort where you once again tried your best at getting free – another growl spurring up from your gut with a vengeance. “Shut up-” 
“Don’t you agree, Suguru?” The white-haired boy ignored you again – though tightened his grip in correspondence – his long arms thrown in a cross around your front with slender fingers curling, now almost painfully, into the soft flesh of your midriff – having lifted your shirt enough for him to touch your skin directly.
“Mh, I can see it… doing laundry, cleaning the house, making dinner-” The other agreed, standing up with an unbothered sigh, taking slow and soft steps over the white padding to reach the two of you – his shape always much larger, growing like a mass of something menacing – dark and towering and shadowing like some great statue – making you feel so unbelievably small. 
Pulling his hand from his baggy pant pockets, you flinched as it thumbed your chin to make you look up at him – all your struggles gone and almost replaced with shivers instead – now with feeling the intense weight of being not just outmatched but outnumbered too. 
Feeling all but swallowed between the two, an inch of regret steadily crept about your gut, quenching what former fire used to fuel your spirit – leaving you with only an intense sense of defeat and fear.
His smile split with teeth, and you paled in light of it – breath thin as he leaned in closer.
“You’d look pretty natural wearing a pretty kimono… waiting for your man to come home.” He whispered, and you swallowed thickly in return, looking up into his slim eyes, who looked down at you with that small smile of his which seemed to carry a weight that felt crushing.
You tried keeping cool – tried grasping for any semblance worth of calm you could manage – even as Gojo’s hands, warm and soft, gently started messaging circles into your sides – his lips still at your ear in hot breaths and playful whispers. “Sure, it doesn’t pay the same way being a sorcerer does, but I’m sure a girl like you’d be grateful for pretty clothes and a big house.”
Geto hummed in agreement, his hand sliding from your chin to cup your cheek – with hot breaths fanning your face making goosebumps spring to the surface – adding to the statement. “And a warm bed to sleep in at night.”
You let out a whimper then, with lips quivering. The atmosphere had changed – turned thick with something else, something suffocating – something that left you faint, both speechless and breathless – whilst you warily looked up into the dark set of eyes above you and shivered at the feel of the teeth behind you. 
“All in exchange for some cooking and cleaning,” Gojo murmured against your neck, pulling your body closer while it shook unsteadily between the two of them.
“Don’t forget the other thing….” Geto hinted beneath his breath, his lips brushing your silently parted ones with a smirk, savoring that terribly troubled look on your face with an amused one of his own.
“Right~ The other thing~” Gojo purred, also enjoying your faltering, liking the feel of your heartbeat quickening beneath his fingertips.
“What thing?” You asked weakly – warily – as though scared of the answer.
Gojo snickered while Geto answered. “I think it’s better we show you this one.”
You were on your back the next second – your wrists pinned beneath the strength of Gojo’s fists where he kneeled above your head – his black shades slipping down his nose as he stared down at you with his smile and eyes gleaming in a look you could only call crazy.
Geto was kneeling at your other end, still towering over you – with big hands spreading your thighs, holding them tight to keep you from kicking. 
Your mind hadn’t really processed the possibility yet – hadn’t really allowed it to sink in – but it was dawning on you now – rapidly – while watching the boy lift your skirt up passed your panties.
“Hey! Stop-” You squealed, trying to bring your knees together to hide yourself. But you seemed smaller than you’d ever felt now, on the ground beneath the two boys who just dwarfed you in comparison.
“Think of it as part of training.” Geto offered casually while shuffling closer – his hands holding you beneath the knees, keeping you spread. “As a housepet, you need to learn these things.”
“And if you’re still adamant about becoming a jujutsu sorcerer… this is a realistic field exercise too.” Gojo added, his eyes big and ice-blue, glowing with something that seemed to seize you by the throat as he stared down at the growing hysterics on your pretty face. “I mean, with a face like this, I’m sure both curse users and curses themselves would want a taste before killing you.”
Geto removed his jacket, casting it aside. “We just want to help prepare you for what’s out there.” He excused, leaning over you with hands running over your chest, undoing button after button while you squirmed.
“No, please-” You shook your head, eyes closed tight in a desperate wish to wake up – the initial disbelief of the situation quickly leaving you every second of feeling hands touching more and more of your naked skin.
You choked on it, never having felt fear quite like it – soon finding hot streams of tears rushing down your face where you struggled to find air.
“We wouldn't want you going out into the real world thinking everyone’s going to play nice with you like we have.” Geto mouthed – eyes thirsty while looking at your cleavage – his large hands cupping your tits over the bra, making you squeak.
“Stop-” You sobbed, but like always, both of them ignored you.
“I’m sorry to say it-” Gojo cut you off, bowing down closer until his eyes were but an inch away from your teary trembling ones. “But the real world doesn’t care about you the way we do and won’t protect you like we will.” 
Geto’s hands slipped beneath your skirt – his fingers carding into the fat of your hips, smoothly hooking his fingers onto the band of your panties before slowly beginning to peel them down your thighs. “This is for your own good.”
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strawberrysturniolo · 4 months
Note
can you pleaseeeee do a chris sturniolo x fem reader where she invites him to meet her family? maybe she has a big family and he’s a little nervous to impress them all? i hope that doesn’t that dumb <33
meeting the family // bf!chris
super soft chris
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“Baby?” my boyfriend’s voice calls from our shared bed.
I’m standing in the bathroom, drying my face with a towel while he scrolls through his phone. “Yes?”
“What time are you parents getting in today?”
Chris has been overloaded with anxiety about meeting my family since we started dating months ago. I had moved to LA for college, stumbled into Chris through mutual friends, and with him knowing that I have family on the opposite coast that he has been able to get out of having the awkward first interaction with for months, he’s beginning to panic now that it’s coming up.
He has no real reason to worry though. My parents have always been pretty casual and free to let me do what I want, make my own mistakes. But Chris was never a mistake, and while he’s paranoid about them liking him, I have plenty of confidence that today will go well. 
They’re flying in from my hometown to visit me over a short break I have from school. I was flying back home so much that they decided they wanted to come to the west coast to see me for a change. 
“2, but they’re Ubering to their hotel so my sister can sleep.”
My sister, who is 4, was, in the nicest way, a complete and total freak accident. 
I was an only child my entire life, and when my sister popped out, our age gap was so evident that I would often get asked if I was a single teenage mom when I would take her to the store with me. 
Their day of traveling with her must have been hell. It’s rough enough to go from coast to coast as is, but with a whiny 4-year-old who just wants to sleep the whole time but probably can’t find comfort on the plane, I doubt it was peaceful. 
I can hear the bed creak a bit as Chris gets up and stumbles into the bathroom. His hair is a mess, curls in every direction. His eyelids are heavy, and he drops his head on my shoulder to show me just how exhausted he is. His swollen lips kiss my neck as his arms wrap around my waist. He smiles at me through the mirror, places another kiss to my cheek, then turns around to the shower, turning on the water. 
“You feeling any better about the big introduction?” I ask, earning a groan in response.
“Are you trying to make me feel more nervous?”
“I’m trying to make you feel better.” 
He peels his shirt off and tosses it to the ground. “I’m happy to be meeting them, but no, I’m still scared shitless.” 
While he showered, I talked to my mom to coordinate our plans for the rest of the day. By the time he was back to our room, our day had been decided. 
“My parents are going to Uber back to their hotel so my sister can take a nap, and then we’re going to take them to dinner,” I relay the plans back to him. 
He nods as he puts on a fresh shirt and pants. “Sounds good.”
We go about the rest of our day before heading to the hotel my family will be spending the next few days at. Chris’ hand taps the wheel nervously. I offered to hold his hand, but he insisted that he was too worked up to feel comfortable holding mine, as his hand was probably too sweaty. 
I couldn’t help but find it adorable how much he cared. I knew he really had nothing at all to be worried about. The idea of him caring so much though was so sweet, and I felt really lucky that I had been with someone who wanted to make a lasting impression. It made me think he wanted to make sure they liked him enough for him to be in my life for a long time. 
When Chris pulled into the hotel parking lot, he let out a deep breath.
“Rainbows, butterflies, unicorns,” he muttered, trying to calm himself down.
A cackle left my mouth at the sound of him.
His eyes shot open and he glared at me. “Stop laughing!”
“Chris, this is ridiculous! You’re getting yourself worked up for nothing.”
He stared at me with a blank expression like that was enough to challenge my words. 
“Babe,” I started. “My dad is as protective as any dad is, but he’s a nice man and he cares much more about me being happy than anything else. He can only protect me so much from as far as we live anyway. My mom, she’s easy going and loves everyone. And my sister is 4 and will like you as long as you acknowledge her existence. You’re fine, let’s go.”
With that, I exit the car and head for the front doors. I hear Chris’ door close behind me and his footsteps follow. I lead Chris up to my family’s room, knocking a few times so they can let us in. 
The door swings open, revealing my mom. “Honey!” 
Before I can say anything, her arms are wrapped around me, pulling me into a tight hug. “Hi, mom. How was your flight?”
She let out a sigh. “Exhausting, but we made it. Your sister couldn’t fall asleep and complained about her ears hurting, so she took a nap for a bit when we got settled here and-”
“SISSY!”
The sound of my sister’s voice was enough to make my face light up. I squatted down to her height as she ran to me with her arms out. I hooked my hands under her arms and picked her up, holding her at my hip.
“Hey girly! I heard you didn’t have too much fun on your flight, huh?”
“Uh uh,” she said, shaking her head before resting it on my shoulder. 
I could sense her eyes on Chris, who had been standing behind me. After a few seconds, she started giggling. 
I bopped her up a bit so she could look at me. “What’s so funny?”
Her cheeks blushed as she pointed to Chris, then put her head back on my shoulder. 
“Ohhhhh,” I say, nodding at her as she hides from my boyfriend. “That’s Chris. He’s very nice.”
Chris waved his hand at her, smiling big enough for my sister to giggle again. 
“Why don’t you guys come in and sit down for a bit?” my mom suggested.
Carrying my sister still, I walked inside with Chris behind me and sat down on the bed. 
“Hi sweetheart,” my dad greeted me, kissing me on the head. He stuck his hand out to Chris, who wiped his hand on his pants before shaking my dad’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Chris.”
“Yeah– Um. You too,” Chris stumbled over his words.
In an attempt to let Chris relax a little, I sat my sister on my lap and said, “Why don’t you let Chris meet Bobo?”
Her eyes lit up and she jumped out of my lap, racing to the bed to grab her stuffed monkey.
She bolted back to Chris, holding her monkey proudly in front of him. 
“This is Bobo?” he asked, an element of excitement in his tone that was enough to make any kid think that what they had to share was golden. “Can I hold him?”
She nodded, smiling. 
“Wowwwwwww. Did you know monkey’s are my favorite? I had a lot when I was little.”
Her jaw dropped to the floor, making both my parents laugh. 
“Bobo was with me… the whole time… on the plane,” she said. She spoke like she was out of breath, like the excitement was too much for her. “I was scared of the plane and mommy said Bobo would protect me!”
“I bet he did!” Chris nodded. “He looks like he has that power.”
I couldn’t help but smile at Chris and my sister interacting, as well as how he had finally loosened up and gotten comfortable around my family. While we continued to talk, my sister climbed up on his lap, and I fucking melted at how fast he put his arms around her for support and helped her up. She put her head on his chest, and while holding Bobo, I could see just how tired she still was. 
“Uh oh,” my mom said. “Looks like she’s out again.”
All our eyes found my little sister passed out asleep on my boyfriend’s chest. He looked down to try to see for himself, but was blocked by the back of her head. 
My mom stood up with her phone. “This is too cute. Do you mind if I take a picture of you guys?”
Chris didn’t even respond. Instead he looked up at my mom with the biggest smile I’d ever seen, holding onto my sister. 
All his fears went away, and just like I thought, he was the perfect fit for this family. 
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