#only once has she been outrun | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jadeslashes · 11 months

Note

DBD request:

The killers (The Shape, Trapper, the Wraith and your choice 😘) having an unhealthy obsession with the newest survivor (female if you don't mind?)

includes: the trapper, the wraith, the huntress, the ghost face, the doctor, the legion (just frank), the artist, the cenobite, the executioner, the shape & the knight.

warnings: stalking, obsession, unhealthy relationship dynamics, you get the idea. no smut but still mdni.

note: first dbd request, thanks pookie <3 and bc this is my first dbd request, i'm just gonna include all the killers i write for :)

🔩﹒TRAPPER ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

obsession at first sight, evan has absolutely no plans of letting you get away from him, no matter what he has to do

even if it hurts you, he'll lay traps in your path to ensnare you so he can throw you up over his shoulder, have you in his complete control

and once you're in the basement, you know that there's no escape from him whatsoever

all of his traps are laid so there's no chance of rescue, and he faces you hanging from the hook that he's mercilessly thrown you on, glad to have successfully trapped his prey

🔔﹒WRAITH ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

philip finds himself using his guise of invisibility to keep an eye on you far more often than he himself even intends, crossing paths with you when he doesn't even mean to

whenever you're alone, you catch him sweeping by in your periphery, or hear in the distance a bell chiming

he notices your anxiety mounting with every second that he's watching, and in a way he almost feels bad about it

and when he's ready to chase you down, he'll ring his bell, almost in a taunting sort of way as you run from him

but he won't stop until he's got you

🪓﹒HUNTRESS ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

almost always, her first instinct when she sees survivors is to use her strength and speed, her hunting ability, and throw hatchets, anything to down them and bring them under her mercy

but the way she feels about you is almost similar to the way she feels about the children she couldn't bring herself to kill

something throws those instincts to the side when she sees you, she can't place what exactly it is, but she can't ignore it

💀﹒GHOSTFACE ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

he's always meticulously stalked people, gotten to know them without their knowledge down to the very last detail without their knowledge of his presence

but with you, his usual routine of becoming intimately familiar with victims for the purpose of killing them was interrupted, killing you was not necessarily his intent

unnaturally quickly, he knows details about you that few others pick up on, and you constantly question whether you're really alone

🩻﹒DOCTOR ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

considering the fact that he's completely sadistic, being his obsession is harrowing, beginning to end

especially because he doesn't see these feelings toward you as something he should allow to grow, he doesn't see it as any sort of love or anything romantic, which gives him only one conclusion that he needs to reach

he needs you dead, but he's going to drag it out, make it satisfying for himself, and the way to do that is to drive you mad, and make the process as torturous as possible

every scream of yours fuels him to keep going until his brutal torture is finally done, and by that point, he might even find that he'd gotten so caught up in torturing you that the rest of the survivors managed to escape the trial

🕸﹒LEGION ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

frank knew you'd be a chase, something he'd need to go after, but he's more than okay with that

every second of running after you is envigorating, with each stride that gets him closer to you he wants you more and more

both of you know that you can’t outrun him, he’s in a frenzy on your heels, completely running on the impulse that he hadn’t been able to get out of his head since he saw you; he needed to get to you

the chase doesn’t necessarily end with him plunging his knife into you, but he doesn’t mind it if you think that’s the case

in fact, he takes some pride in the fear and control he knows he has over you

🪶﹒ARTIST ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

while usually she uses her birds as a weapon against her prey, for you she'd be using them much more gently

you’d find yourself being harassed by crows throughout the majority of your trial

but it’s only so carmina can keep track of you, she doesn’t use them to cause you harm

⛓﹒CENOBITE ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

they're constantly using their chains to keep you in close proximity

and also just to hear you scream, no tears of yours could ever be a waste of good suffering in their eyes, they love your cries of fear and pain from whatever they're doing to you or when they're chasing you down

escaping their chains is virtually impossible, each second you manage to evade or hide to rest, you know you’re just putting off the inevitable

🔺﹒EXECUTIONER ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

pyramid head is a bringer of pain and suffering, but is also shockingly subtle during the trial

for a while, he’s merely a looming presence as you work towards escaping

but that’s part of the plan, he takes his time to get you tormented by his power

all so that he can get you locked in one of his cages, where you have no choice but to be all his

🔪﹒SHAPE ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

his stalking is relentless, but he takes his time before he makes a real move on you

and when he finally does strike? there's no way you could've ever been ready for it, one minute you were working on a generator, and the next, you're up over his shoulder with no way to escape

and even if you are constantly on guard, aware of his presence, he'll keep you under his mercy by keeping you injured or downed, never too far from you to keep your fellow survivors from saving you

⚔️﹒KNIGHT ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

even though he's the killer in the trial, as a knight, he feels the need to protect you, killing you isn't even something that crosses his mind

and if tarhos himself can't be keeping his eye on you at any time for one reason or another, alejandro, durkos or sander are doing so for him

he's got an uncanny ability to constantly know where you are and what you're doing, and that's because he's always keeping tabs on you, whether on his own or by means of his faithful three

1K notes · View notes

astroboots · 7 months

Note

Hmmm ok maybe the three of them going on holiday and making good use of a hotel room and balcony 😉

STRIP POKER

Summary: The trio goes on a beach holiday only to get trapped in their hotel room and you end up playing strip poker.

Rating: Explicit, DP with Frankie's giant cock which needs a warning of itself.

Warning: Writer has no fucking clue about poker (or any card games) and it fucking shows. She did research and friends and family tried to explain it to her but that only confused her more.

Pairing: Frankie x female reader (you) x Santiago

Word Count: 5k

Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist

It's raining outside.

A violent smattering of rain so aggressive it sounds like the window panes are getting the beating of its life.

Frankie sighs. $250 a night for a hotel room with a seaside view and it's just fucking pouring down.

He is standing outside on the balcony, still within safe shelter from the rain. Leaning his elbow against the balcony rail, he peers down at the perfect aquamarine water that glitters like a precious gem underneath, out of reach.

It's his first proper holiday from work in years, and he'd thought it'd be nice to splurge a bit. Big king-sized bed. Hotel Spa. Beach access.

It would have been perfect. And at first it seemed to be. Gorgeous sun as far as the eye could see when the plane touched ground on the tarmac. Then it started raining, and it just didn't stop. Torrential -- there's a typhoon warning on the weather forecast that everyone is recommended to stay inside -- kind of rain.

He throws a glance behind his shoulder, back at the hotel room where Santiago is draped across the large king sized bed with a thick novel he picked up from the airport. Santiago is about three quarters in, which means there's an hour, maybe less, before he's finished.

After that there will be nothing to distract the man and it's only a matter of time before Santiago will get restless. God knows what he'll get up to then.

For once, Frankie won't blame him.

Stuck in a small room with nothing but reruns of telemundo and shitty overpriced hotel service club sandwiches to keep everyone distracted. Frankie's pretty sure that he's going to follow suit with a case of cabin fever not long after Santiago.

From the corner of his eyes, he spots you stomp over to the bed where Santiago is lying. He can't hear what you're saying, but you're waving your hands around animatedly. Santiago immediately puts his novel face-down against the mattress, then he shakes his head adamantly at whatever it is you are saying.

Out of the three of you it looks like your patience was the first to snap.

Your arms cross across your chest, feet stomping down in dismay. Then you turn in the direction of the balcony and Santiago is immediately shooting to his feet to preempt you. He outruns you across the room and flings open the balcony door.

"Frank! Tell your wife it's a bad idea!"

Frankie rolls his eyes at the dramatic outburst. Oh it's his wife now that you have a bad idea, is it?

Cocking his head to the side, Frankie looks to you over Santiago's shoulder. "What's a bad idea baby?"

"Let's go out!" You announce. "So what if it's raining? We can go for a quick swim anyhow. It'll still be warm."

Frankie blinks. He casts his eyes over the cascade of rain that has turned the once white sand into grey sludge. Catches sight of the parasols on the beach that has been uprooted by the winds and are flying wildly, a scene straight out of that 'Twister' movie with Helen Hunt he saw as a kid.

There aren't many occasions in your life together that Frankie has ever said no to you. This though might be one of those rare ones.

"Baby," he starts, voice soft as to cajole you. "That's a bad idea."

You throw your hands out in a dramatic gesture as you stalk your way back inside the room. Frankie barely catches the tail end of your sentence but he hears the string of swears to understand the sentiment of it.

Frankie's left with only Santiago for company on the balcony. The man calmly walks up to the end next to him, leaning out against the railing to assess the weather outside.

To Frankie's surprise, Santiago doesn't say anything. Seemingly content with the companionable silence and the sound of rain smattering all around them. There are no bratty complaints about paying hundreds of dollars only to watch rain. No witty snark.

"You're being uncharacteristically well behaved," Frankie says.

Santiago grins. "I've had a lifetime of experience sitting out shitty weather with nothing to do during missions, Frank. At least this time, I don't have to listen to Firefly's snores."

Frankie snorts at the memory.

"There's much worse things in life than having you and Boa cooped up with me in a fancy hotel room."

There's something soft in Santiago's eyes as he says it. A sentimentality in his voice that Frankie has a hard time placing, because he can't quite recall when Santiago has ever used it with him before.

Before Frankie has a chance to recuperate from blanking out and think of something to say back, Santiago is already leaning away from the balcony to step back inside the room towards you.

"Come on sweetheart. Stop being a brat," he says and playfully swats your backside with a gentle tap that makes you jump.

Santiago leans over the desk and opens a drawer to pull out a pack of cards that he cracks open and your eyes light up at the sight of it.

"If you're bored, let's play a game, yeah?"

In his own humble opinion, Frankie's never been particularly good at poker. He's got the poker face part down, but he never had an interest for gambling and the rules of the game never quite made sense to him.

Santiago on the other hand is a master of it. He's the undefeated champion during their military days and he regularly cleaned out everyone's savings on any given night.

As for you. Competitive as you are, as with every game that you've played more than twice -- you got good at it with practice, but the poker face bit of it is something you are still struggling severely with, because it's always written as plain as day on your face if you have a good or bad hand.

So in a game of strip poker, it's a bit surprising that two hours in, Santiago is the one sat in his underwear, while you and Frankie are still fully clothed.

Frankie's down to his t-shirt and briefs, whereas you have only lost your right sock.

In all honesty, Frankie doesn't quite understand it. Because right now you're sitting across Santiago, a grin so wide you are going to end up with muscle soreness in your cheeks. It's a sign the size of a massive billboard on Time Square lit up in neon and flashing lights that the hand you've been dealt with is good as gold. Yet, despite all the clear signs pointing to only one very clear and undeniable conclusion, for some unfathomable reason, Santiago still refuses to fold.

He tips his chin up in challenge towards you. "What you got sweetheart?"

That grin of yours grow impossibly wider as you set down your cards, revealing them one by one on the wooden floor where you're sat.

First a diamond 8. Then a ace of heart. Then an ace of diamond. Santiago's defiant features fall, pearly white teeth sinking into that pouty lip as he watches you put down a club ace. And as you put down the final card: An ace of spade. Santiago groans in defeat.

"You're cheating," he mumbles indignantly. But his fingers are already dragging his sole remaining garment down over his hips to the sound of your cackling laugh.

If Frankie's eyes linger for a little longer than they should at the round ample curve of Santiago's ass, you don't notice over your absolute glee in defeating the man.

You're already hooting with joy as Santiago demands another round, metaphorically kicking the man when he's already down.

"And what exactly are you going to gamble with for the re-match? You're butt fucking naked Santiago!"

"We'll do different stakes," Santiago shoots back.

"Like what?"

"I'll do whatever you say."

It's like a pin drops in the space between you. Your laughter stops.

"Whatever?" you repeat.

There's a glint in your eye that even Frankie can tell is dangerous, and only an idiot (a competitive idiot) would still go ahead when met with that look on your face.

Santiago is seemingly that idiot.

"Whatever," he confirms. "Carte blanch. Nothing's off the table."

The devious smile on your lips doesn't wane for even a second. You take the deck of cards back into your hands and shuffle them.

"You're on."

Tense is an understatement to describe the next half hour that unfolds in the hotel room.

For a game that was meant to be a fun distraction from the rain outside, it's now turned into something else entirely.

Rundown gambling dens by the border of Colombia are less intimidating than what is going on between you and Santiago right now.

"Antique markets every Sunday at 6am for a month," you threaten him. Santiago practically twitches at the scene you're painting. His fingers grip on tighter on his hand of cards.

You grin at the sign of weakness.

"Oh and you're calling Martina about that time you blamed her for stealing booze from your mom but it was really you."

"What?" Santiago pipes up in alarm, with no trace of his trademark coolness that he usually has for these games. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Whatever I say," you remind him. "Those were the terms."

Santiago seethes. Gritting his teeth as he shakes his head and sits back down firmly on the ground. "Sure," he mumbles like a petulant child. "Whatever. Show your hand already."

You scoot closer to Santiago, cards tucked close to your chest with a smile so wide it lights up the whole room with it.

The first card that comes down is a club of 9. The next is a 10 in the same suit.

Frankie can already see the small muscle in Santiago's cut jaw flex before the man drags his hand over it in a tell-tale sign of displeasure that both you and Frankie recognize all too well.

Normally Frankie would say that with that look on your face, Santiago is in a whole world of trouble.

Normally.

The face of Jack is staring up at the three of you from the floor, and before you even put down the final two cards, Santiago and Frankie both already knows that it is going to be a Queen and a King dressed in black club.

You fling down the duo triumphantly and you're already listing out loud every embarrassing act you are going to force Santiago to endure. There are threats of toilet scrubbing. Brunches with Frankie's mom. Attending a taxidermy class with you.

It lasts for several minutes before you lean down to start gathering the cards to put them away.

"Sweetheart, slow down."

Santiago reaches over. His free hand that's not holding the cards, cupping over yours to stop you. There's a slow and almost gentle smile that spreads across his lips.

Then Santiago finally drops the act.

"I haven't shown my cards yet have I?" he says.

From the way that your smile fades. The way the bright light in your eyes dim, you know it too. The bastard played you. Has been playing you this whole evening, right into his conniving and clever hands.

Frankie suspected as much.

After all, Santiago is brilliant at poker. Undefeated for as long as he's known the man.

As good as you may have gotten with practice, there was no way your long and uninterrupted winning streak of this entire evening was from sheer luck. Especially not when Santiago has not shown his hand a single time this evening.

10 of hearts. Jack of Hearts. Queen and King dotted with red hearts above their crown. Then finally an Ace in the shape of hearts.

A royal flush.

"Soooo," Santiago starts with a slow and meaningful drawl as he grins back at you.

"Whatever I say huh?"

Frankie should probably put a stop to this.

Because you look like you're about to kill someone.

You're kneeling on the floor, tucked between Frankie's legs, as Santiago is right behind you, plastered closely to your back.

The man can't resist the urge to tease you, even if it is under imminent threat to his life. Santiago's nimble fingers tuck a loose curl of your hair behind your ear before pressing a kiss to it.

"You're scaring poor Frankie," he tuts. "It's not good manners to stare daggers at a man when you're inches from his cock, sweetheart."

That comment doesn't make you look any less like a murderess to be.

"Frank," Santiago calls out. "Take out your cock."

Frankie sighs as he reaches for his belt to unbuckle. One hand reaches underneath his boxers as he pulls himself out. He doesn't know why he lets either of you constantly rope you into these situations.

God he feels fucking ridiculous.

"Look at how nice and obedient our husband is being," Santiago goads as his hand comes to your jaw, bridging the span of it. Then he gently tilts you downwards to guide your face forward until you're lips are mere inches from Frankie's cock.

As if by instinct, without further instructions, your mouth already parts for him. Just the sight of your glistening tongue makes the entirety of Frank's back tingle.

He can't help it. It's sense memory at this point.

The tip of your tongue darts out, but before you make any physical contact, Santiago stops you.

"Not yet," he says.

His arm curls around the front of your chest, pulling you back again with an expression of pure schadenfreude.

"I'm gonna have to have you ask nicely for it, sweetheart. Ask Frank to let you suck his cock."

Frankie nearly rolls his eyes at Santiago. The man just has to rub it in doesn't he? Insufferable brat.

If he was Santiago, he'd sleep with one eye open tonight.

Still for all his teasing, it could be so much worse. Not to defend Santiago and his idiocy. But in comparison to what you had in mind for the man, Santiago is going more than easy on you. This is mild for the man.

You must know it too, because you don't protest. Barely even hesitate as you gaze up at Frankie, through your thick lashes, dutifully and do as you're told.

"Please can I suck your cock, Francisco?"

Shit.

Excitement pings across his nerves at your words.

This is a ridiculous situation. Frankie shouldn't get turned on.

But he can't help himself. not when he feels the warmth of your breath exhale gently over his cock and the stupid thing immediately stirs into rapt attention.

Your hands reach over, fingers wrapping around his girth. Frankie doesn't even get a chance to savor it before Santiago is already grabbing for your wrists.

Cock-blocker.

"Nuh, uh," Santiago admonishes. "No hands".

You don't fight him on it. Your hands withdraw to your sides and you keep them there obediently, as you lean down the rest of the way, until your soft gorgeous lips press down against Frankie's quickly hardening cock.

Heat spears through his stomach at your touch.

Soft and almost chaste, your lips linger on his cock and it has Frankie immediately swelling to full hardness, until he can feel it twitching against your soft cheek.

Your tongue darts out, the pink tip gliding along a protruding vein as you pamper his cock with your full attention. Lapping, sucking and kissing at the spot with a quiet moan before you finally move along and slip the head of his cock between your lips.

Dizzying pleasure punches through him and for a brief second, even sat on the bed, Frankie thinks he might pass out from the overwhelming sensation. His mind is in the process of drifting and floating out of his body and away from the room. The only thing that still keeps him tethered to consciousness is Santiago's voice. The gentle mocking praise that spills from the man's filthy mouth.

"Isn't our sweet girl good?" Santiago asks him. "Doing such a good job isn't she?"

Frankie wants to say yes. But his tongue is heavy in his mouth, and he's gone dumb with pleasure to the point that he's forgotten how to speak.

In front of him, Santiago is having the time of his life (because of course the bastard is). There is a sly smile on his lips as that clever hand of his palms the small of your back. He traces the length of your spine until his hand disappears under the edge of your panties.

It doesn't take much detective work for Frankie to guess what Santiago is doing to you as you moan keenly around his cock.

"Look at her isn't she so pretty sucking your cock, Frank?"

For all that the man keeps coddling you with his words, cooing and hushing you with a soothing cadence, Santiago doesn't show you much leniency. His hand isn't stopping, even as you whimper and shake from his touch. He doesn't let up.

Even from Frankie's obscured view from the bed, he can see Santiago's fingers working into you. Finding every perfect angle that has tears stinging in the corner of your eyes until they gaze up pleadingly at Frankie with a wet glossy sheen.

Fuck, you're so fucking pretty like this.

"So fucking perfect for us. I think my only criticism is she gets so easily distracted", he teases as your hips cant up to chase his hand, for Santiago to give you more.

All Frankie can manage is a desperate groan in return. His head tilts back as the overwhelming sensation washes over him. Hips canting deeper into your mouth to have more of your lips, your tongue, more of… anything that you are willing to give him.

Your throat protests at the thick intrusion, swallowing in fits around Frankie. You whine, trying to pull back but Santiago is there pushing you forward with another encouraging string of praise.

Frankie can see the man work his fingers deeper into you and your body is wracked in another series of shivers, mouth parting until his cock slip out. You try to cover your mouth with your hand to stop a moan that breaks out, but Santiago's hand immediately shoot out to grab your wrist again to secure it to your side.

"That won't do. Put your pretty mouth back on Frank's big cock sweetheart."

"Santiago," you protest throwing him a menacing glare, a second away from telling him that it's his fault to begin with.

"Whatever I say," Santiago reminds you, parroting your own taunting words from before. "Those were the terms."

You bite your lip with a pout that is all too similar to Santiago.

In moments like this, Frankie is reminded of the closeness of the two of you. How inextricably intertwined you two are having grown up together. Two sides of the same stubborn, competitive coin. And god he loves both of you.

Swallowing your bruised pride, you bend over again, parting your lips to put your mouth back on his cock.

Heat spears through him until his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head. The last thing he sees before they do is Santiago's eyes gazing back at him.

Even behind closed eyes Frankie can't get away from it. Santiago's sweet and murmured praises as he talks about how good you are. How pretty you look. In the dark it's easy for the lines to be blurred enough that Frankie isn't entirely sure who Santiago is directing the praise at anymore. And that makes it even better.

When Frankie opens his eyes again, blinking away at the watery edges of his sanity, Santiago is right there.

One hand palming languidly at his own cock as he observes Frankie and you.

He smiles at Frankie, holding the eye contact before he moves to position himself behind you, gripping at your hips. Cock lined up and nudging against the cleft of your ass, taking his sweet fucking time like he's putting on a show for Frankie's benefit to make sure he catches every single detail. Then he pushes forward, into you.

You gasp at the new intrusion, hands flying to Frankie's hips to keep yourself steady as Santiago thrusts forward. The momentum forces your entire body further onto Frankie's cock.

It's a struggle for you to keep your mouth on him and it's a maddening sensation for Frankie. The way your tongue darts out, desperately licking and sucking around the tip of him as best as you can. All the while the man is taunting you with unrestrained glee in his tone.

"It's not too much is it cariño? You can do it. You can take me and Frankie both can't you? Be our good girl, don't stop. Keep going."

And fuck, you don't stop. Your mouth envelops the length of his cock. inch by inch as Frankie watch in delirious fascination as the thick girth disappears between your lips.

You take in so much of him, Frankie has a momentary thought of how you even manage to fit it. Then he feels himself hit the back of your throat.

Christ, Frankie's not particularly religious but he's pretty sure he sees heaven as his cock nudges the back of your throat.

Still you continue, past your limits, eyes watering as you swallow desperately around him.

"Good girl. Such a good fucking girl," Santiago repeats, as he grinds his hips into you.

His hand rests on your back, sweeping your hair to one side until your neck is bare. Then he leans over, his chest pressed along your back and presses a kiss onto your nape.

It's such a sweet gesture, completely at odds with what the man is doing to you in this moment. Then his hips come to a still, an indicator that Santiago is well on his way to implement phase two of whatever devious plan he has for the three of you tonight.

Because Frankie knows Santiago. Better than you know Santiago sometimes, it seems. He knows him well enough that what has transpired so far is just the appetizer for what's to come.

That's just Santiago. Always a step ahead of everyone else. Always an opportunist to the core, his mind is always considering and assessing and re-evaluating the situation for changes.

It's where you lose to him. You get too honed in and narrow minded, your eyes too focused on the prize in front of you. Your mind always too occupied with thoughts of winning the battle while Santiago has his eye on the horizon to emerge victorious from the war.

In front of him, Santiago's hand comes to your cheek cupping you gently as he pulls you off Frankie's cock to your confusion.

"So good for us. You wanna claim your prize hmm?" Santiago murmurs in your ear ominously.

With one arm wrapped around your front, the man lifts you up and guides you to your feet. Then he's maneuvering you onto the bed, arranging you to his liking until you're sat in Frankie's lap.

He curls his fingers around Frankie's cock, like it's a trophy for you to claim and guides Frankie to your slick and waiting entrance, until the blunt tip is nudging against your wet clit.

That clever hand steady at the small of your back, in a steady but firm pace until the entirety of Frankie's cock is fully sheathed inside you.

Fuck.

You feel so fucking good. Warm, slick and so fucking perfect. Frankie thinks he's going to lose his mind with it.

His brain cells are melting with pleasure inside his skull and he can barely pay enough attention with the way you're clutched so tightly around his cock to register that Santiago isn't next to you anymore. He's gone off somewhere, fuck knows where, as Frankie palms the soft curves of your hips to press you firmly down on him, pushing as deep as he goes.

Frankie can't stop long enough to think much else, except for the sweet pace that you're rocking forward on his cock with. He's lost in it. Drunk and inebriated on the way you feel in his arms as he rocks you up and down on his cock that he barely even notices when Santiago's back again.

This time with a bottle of lube in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face.

Of course, that's where the clever bastard went.

"San--" you start, but your voice is cut off at the long drag of Frankie's cock inside of you as he thrusts up again.

Santiago's smile spreads even wider, predatory. "What sweetheart? Don't you want your reward?"

Frankie can hear the click of the bottle, two seconds before he registers the way that Santiago's hand slips between your legs again, and then he fucking feels it. The pressure of Santiago's finger as he presses inside of you, and fuckfuck--shit! It knocks the fucking breath out of Frankie's lungs.

The sound you make is the sweetest fucking thing that Frankie's ever heard. It's needy and desperate. It echoes in his head and he never wants it to stop. Wants to record it so he can replay it a thousand times over.

"You did so well," Santiago says, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. He stills, allowing you to adjust to the new sensation.

"You won the game tonight. Fair and square. I'm just here to give you your hard-earned prize."

Even though Frankie can't see it, he can feel it. The rigid heat of Santiago's cock nudging at your ass, inches from Frankie's cock.

"This good cariño? You want me inside you too hmm? Tell me how you want it," Santiago demands.

But there's no way you can answer the man coherently.

You're an absolute trembling, shaking mess. Can barely form a word and much less a sentence. You just keep nodding, as you keep moving up and down on Frankie's cock with a stuttering "ye-yes."

And that's not enough for the bastard

"Yes what, sweetheart?" Santiago teases.

You sob, knowing fully well you won't be able to give Santiago what he wants in this state.

But he doesn't ease up. "Try again," he says.

"Both," you try, struggling. The word panting and out of breath. "I want-- f-fuck!" It's such a high pitched sound, you practically sound like a damned squeaky to. "Please, please," you cry, tears brimming in your eyes.

That smug bastard likes that, smiling and humming as he rubs the side of his jaw along the back of your neck, scraping his prickly five o' clock shadow against your soft skin until goose bumps form in its wake.

"Ple--please, San--I want--"

"Greedy girl," Santiago rasps out. He moves back for a brief moment, and you squeak in alarm that he's gonna leave. Instead he thrusts forward and fuck, fuckFUCK!

Shit. Frankie can't breathe.

There are bright sparks in his vision. Blood rushes to his head and for a moment Frankie isn't sure if he's going blind or having a seizure.

It's electrifying, a sweet burn that zips through Frankie's spine.

The blood thrashes and swirls inside his ears. It makes every noise around him distorted, like he's under water and drowning in you.

In the far off distance, he thinks he can hear Santiago groan brokenly against your skin. Whatever bravado was there before is all but gone in his voice now.

You're so fucking tight. He can feel Santiago through you. Can feel the way your perfect cunt is clutching onto every inch of his cock... and Santiago's not even all the way inside yet.

He doesn't know if you can fit more. Everything feels tight and overwrought and so so so much. His brain is so overloaded on sensation, it takes him a second to register that both him and Santiago have stopped moving.

None of you are speaking, and Santiago isn't teasing anymore, seemingly at loss of words now.

Santiago hisses out a breath between gritted teeth. His fingers gripping into your hips until it dents the soft flesh as the man tries to hold on by his literal fingernails.

"Fuck sweetheart, you're so tight. Relax for me okay?"

And you're trying to. Frankie can tell that much. You really are. It's not like you're doing this on purpose. It's real fucking easy for Santiago to ask you to relax when Santiago's never had to try to fit two cocks inside his body.

On top of that, while Frankie's never liked to brag, he's self-aware enough to know his own size and how he's a lot to take.

Frankie's hand comes to the small of your back, stroking it to provide you with comfort in the best way he can manage in the circumstances.

"It's ok baby, it's okay. We got you," Frankie murmurs against your skin.

Behind you, Santiago's eyes are squeezed tightly shut. An expression of bliss and torture all blended together. "I'll go slow," he chokes out. "I always do don't I? Let me open you up and make you feel good,"

His voice has gone sweet and indulgent. There's nothing mocking about it now. Just pure unadulterated fondness.

Whatever game he was playing before has ended now. Frankie knows that all Santiago wants in this moment is for you to feel good.

But you're too out of it to notice Santiago's defeat and your own outright victory.

You crane your head back towards Santiago with an indignant glare, no doubt to start off what will be a round of bickering between you and the man.

And that's the last thing Frankie wants in this moment, for either of you.

And maybe Frankie's an opportunist too. Maybe he's just as bad as Santiago. Because he quickly cups your cheek, guiding you back towards his lips to cut off any words you might have for Santiago.

His other hand, moves down to the front of your stomach, sliding his palm down along the inside of your thighs until his fingers can draw along the wetness of your folds, pressing light circles against your clit.

You try to escape it, oversensitive and overstimulated. You try to press back only to be met by Santiago's firm chest caging you in, pushing you forward and back into Frankie hand.

You shake and spasm in between them. Tears brimming in the wet sheen of your eyes.

Frankie's barely done anything to you and, god you're already close somehow.

He can feel it. The rise in the pace of your breathing, the thrum of your heart beating against your chest like your very heart is trying to escape from your ribcage as your impending climax builds and builds and builds from within you.

You come with a defeated whimper into his mouth. To Santiago's rasped groan in your ear and Frankie's low moan into your mouth. Your orgasm cascades over you as you shiver in his arms and squeeze tightly around them both.

Everything is a pleasant buzz thrumming in his veins as he can sense how all of you are unwinding. Your body melting in his arms, pressed between him and Santiago as you are.

They let you recover. Let you calm down. The only movement between them, is Santiago lips dragging against your hairline fondly as if to console you.

"That good baby? Think you ready for us now?" Frankie asks.

You're still swimming in the afterwaves of your pleasure, but you nod drowsily in reply.

Santiago continues to press open mouth kisses against your cheek and jaw, before he moves back to give you space.

You whine, a little bit panicked at the sudden movement. Your hand clings onto Santiago's wrist and the man immediately stills for you.

"Stay," you plead.

"Not going anywhere sweetheart," Santiago says, there's no hint of teasing this time. No lingering bluster of pride or a need to one up you.

"I'm staying right here."

It's soft and loving.

The very same tone in his voice he held when he was gazing out at the rain on the balcony.

Frankie had a hard time placing it when he heard it the first time, but he recognizes it for what it is now.

Contentment... It's a tone so foreign on Santiago but it suits him so well. If he can, then for the rest of his life Frankie wants to make sure the man gets to keep it.

Raising one hand to the back of Santiago's neck, Frankie cups his hand over the old-worn surgery scar as he reels the man closer and seals his mouth over Santiago's.

His lips are soft and pliant against Frankie's own. Then his mouth parts with a sweet little hum that sounds all too similar to the gorgeous whines you've been making all evening.

Outside the rain doesn't stop. It rains for the whole of that week.

But Santiago was right. There are worse things in the world than being cooped up in a room with the two people you love the most.

I don’t have a tag list. 😅 Please follow astroboot-writes and turn on notifications for writing updates! 🥰

Author's note: We're baaaaaaaack! I know it's been a hot minute since we got some proper porn with these three! It's also the first time in months I've written proper porn so I may be rusty. Thank you for your patience everyone while I was off lusting for tall spidermen.

#pedro pascal #oscar isaac #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader x frankie morales

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starlight-write · 1 month

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Bad idea

A/N: Yeah...it's been six months since I've even touched this blog but I have a new hyperfixation so here we are. Kind of wrote this in a daze but let me know what you think, as well as any other prompts or requests you'd like to see!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairings: Ler!Alastor, Lee!Angeldust, Switch!Charlie (All Platonic)

Summary: Angel somehow convinces Charlie to pull a prank on Alastor. Neither are prepared for the consequences this will have.

Warnings: Tickling, Swearing, Mild sex jokes

Word Count: 2145

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Yeah this was a bad idea.

Rapid footsteps could be heard booming down the hallways of the hotel as Charlie and Angeldust found themselves running for their lives away from one of the most powerful overlords in Hell.

Charlie couldn't quite say what possessed her to get involved with one of Angeldust's pranks, maybe it was boredom or a desire to bond with her friend, but common sense should've told her to back out once Angel named their target.

It was no secret the Radio Demon had a soft spot for his favorite dish which he cooked at the same time each day without fail.

It was also no secret that the demon's oral hygiene was...lacking.

No matter how many times he was informed of this fact, politely or otherwise, Alastor just did not seem to care about keep that particular area clean.

So of course, when the spider demon suggested the two of them mix toothpaste in with the demon's jambalaya, Charlie knew the deal was too hilarious to pass up.

The look on the demon's face when he came back to see that his food had turned blue was priceless.

Yeah, a bad idea, but hilarious nonetheless.

Or it would be until the demon had caught up to them at least.

Neither of them thought the demon would actually hurt them over something like this, seeing as it would hurt his own goals in the long run, but they weren't too keen on finding out what he would do instead.

The pair stopped abruptly at the end of the hallway in front of the only other elevator on that floor. Angeldust crouched and frantically pressed the down button, while Charlie's dumbass was trying to pry the doors open.

"You're seriously telling me you didn't have a better escape plan than just yelling 'Run'?"

"Hey, I didn't actually think we'd make it as far as actually getting into that creep's room. The plan was to at least be able to outrun you but you're a lot faster than I would've thought, Princess." The spider chucked.

The girl's jaw dropped at hearing that. "I thought this stupid prank was a chance for us to bond! You were just going to ditch me to take the fall for your stupid idea?!?!"

The elevator chimed as the doors opened.

"Yeah, pretty much." The spider chuckled as he jumped inside.

Betrayal and a bit of anger filled the girl as her eyes went red and horns grew on top of her head. She grunted as she tackled her friend inside the elevator, doors closing behind her.

Angel grunted as he hit the ground. "Aww, did I make the pretty princess mad? I don't see what the big deal is, whatever that red freak has planned, he'll go a lot easier on you." The demon said as he smiled up at his friend.

"Yeah, well you're gonna wish you'd stayed behind once I'm through with you."

With that, the girl began skittering her fingers rapidly underneath the spider's arms.

Whatever smartass remark Angel was going to say next died in his throat and was replaced with hysterical laughter as his worst spot was targeted.

"aaa-AAH! AHAHA-Charlie! CHARLIHEHEHEHAHA!!! WAHAHAHIT!! Wait- DONT- AHAHAHAA!!!" The spider demon cried out as he began kicking his legs viciously.

Charlie had been meaning to test her friend's sensitivity for a while now. She had seen how small touches and pokes affected her friend from time to time. She'd noticed when Husk began giving quick pinches to the spider's ribs whenever he mad a dirty joke or was becoming too much for the cat to handle. Or when her girlfriend used a pen to poke around the spider's torso whenever she needed to herd him away from something. She especially noticed how Angel's face contorted each time as he fought to suppress his smile. Charlie had been waiting for the longest time to ask the demon about it, or test her theory herself. Y'know... to bond.

So yeah, Angel had this coming for a while now.

So focused on her revenge, neither her or Angel noticed the elevator open to the main floor, where Alastor was waiting patiently for the two of them right outside the entrance.

"Well well well, seems the two little troublemakers have turned on each other already, how fun!" The demon grinned evilly before conjuring up a pair of tentacles to yank the pair out of the elevator.

The two of them yelped as they were dragged from their hiding spot and held midair by the appendages.

Alastor looked the two of them up and down, eye twitching as he did so. "So...it's clear to me that you two heathens are looking for a death sentence, which I am more than happy to provide. But before I get to teaching the two of you a lesson, I am curious who's genius idea it was to mess with the Radio Demon in the first place."

"Mine!" Angel exclaimed proudly. Earning a confused look from Charlie.

"What? He clearly thought my idea was good, obviously I want credit for it." Smug bastard. Alastor did not seem amused with his confession however, Angel's comment actually seeming to have annoyed him even further.

"I thought so." The demon said. "I'd expect this level of childishness from someone like you, although I'm thankful it wasn't of a more perverted nature. However..." He turned his focus to Charlie who was still trying to wriggle her way out of the grip the appendage had around her waist.

"I expected much more from you, Charlie. Why I'd go as far to say I'm disappointed in you."

She felt a pang in her chest at hearing the demon's words.

"No, Alastor...I'm sorry if we upset you. I just thought it would be a bit of harmless fun! And Angel never asks to do anything with me so I got a bit excited. I'm sorry."

A frown quickly replaced Angel's smug grin and he averted his gaze to the floor.

Alastor couldn't help but chuckle at the two of them. "Oh you two are so sweet...it makes me sick. But how could I not accept such a heartfelt apology coming from my favorite hostess?"

The two perked up almost immediately.

"So...we're off the hook?" Angel asked hopefully.

Alastor fiddled with his staff as if bored by this whole conversation. "Well, seeing that neither of you are getting maimed today, I'd say yes...to an extent."

"To an extent?" The princess asked.

"Well I still have to teach the two of you a lesson somehow. No one messes with the Radio Demon and gets away with it." He smiled. "However, I do believe Charlie here has given me a wonderful idea how to do that~"

She looked at him, confused. "What do you mean by-AAAAAAAA!!"

Charlie let out a shriek as she felt something wriggle on the back of her knee. She looked down to see a much smaller tentacle scribbling along the dreaded spot. She began kicking her legs out desperately only to be stopped by two more tentacles holding them in place.

The attack quickly threw the girl into hysterics, the one tentacle already throwing her into a frenzy. Screaming and whipping her head side to side, she pushed and pounded her fists against the appendage retraining her, trying and failing to reach down to stop the offending tentacle that was honing in on her worst spot.

Angeldust couldn't help but laugh at her dramatic reaction. Although, he wasn't too keen on getting his shit wrecked again. Thinking he could use his charm to smooth-talk his way out of this situation, seeing as the demon avoided him like the plague if he could talk dirty enough.

"You guys are full of surprises today, arent'cha?" He said using his little flirtatious tone, knowing it annoyed Alastor to no end. "I'm proud your old ass is finally experimenting, dust nuts. I'm more than happy to help you explore with bondage but I can't say I'm all that into this tickling stuff."

The demon turned to him and grinned evilly. "Oh, good! That's exactly what I was afraid of."

Yeah, bad idea.

Angel's wrists were snatched up by yet another appendage before two more attacked his underarms for the second time that day.

"GAHAHAHAHAHAD OKAY!! OKAY CUHUHUHUT IT OHOHOUT!!"

Angel screamed, trying with all his power to pull his arms down but it was no use, the radio demon had the two of them completely and hopelessly trapped.

Alastor just hummed, pressing a hand to his chin and pretended to think. "Don't think you two have learned your lesson quite yet. Although, I am new to this particular method. Hows about I ask an expert. Oh Charlie~" He turned to the princess again. "Do tell me, how effective would you say is tickling your enemies into submission?"

The poor girl couldn't even get a word out between her screaming fits of laughter. All she could do was shake her head and pound her fists against her restraints as the back of her knee was tickled mercilessly.

"AAHAHAHAHA- STAHAHAAAAAA- ALASTAAAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHE-"

Alastor leaned in with one hand cupping his ear. "What's that? I'm sorry, I couldn't quite understand. I don't speak heathen, after all." He teased. "Angeldust would you mind interpreting?"

Angel began to lose himself in his own fit of hysterics as yet another one of the tentacles found its way to his stomach, scribbling wildly.

Although he was tempted to sprout his extra sets of arms, Angel has been in enough tickle fights with Cherri to know that underneath those arms would be exploited as well and just make the agonizing feeling ten times worse.

It took a lot more work for Angel to reach the same level of hysterics Charlie was currently in. Even with the three tentacles making him laugh his head off, Angel would say he was still holding out better than he normally would. At least compared to Charlie, who wasn't even fully restrained but was still completely losing her mind just from that one spot.

Alastor noticed this as well and seeing as anything more would probably make the poor girl faint, he focused his attention on Angeldust.

"You still feeling smart? Tell me, you still think your little genius idea was worth the trouble?"

The demon conjured up yet another pair of tentacles to poke and prod at his victim before they settled on attacking the demon's thighs instead.

Whatever control Angeldust thought he'd maintained before disappeared immediately. The merciless tickling in three different areas proved too much for him to handle.

"NOOHOHOHO- NO! I DOHOHOHON'T! I'M SORRYHEHEHEHEHE- I PROHOHOMISE IT WON"T HAHAHAPPEN AGAHAHAHAIN!!!"

"Good enough."

And with that, the tickling stopped. The tentacles carefully setting Charlie on the ground and disappearing while Angeldust was unceremoniously dropped midair.

Charlie huffed and hugged her legs to her chest, residual laughter still wracking her body.

Angeldust peeled his face off the ground and tried to recover from the torture as well.

"Well, I certainly hope that little lesson drilled something useful into your skulls. It's almost as if you act like children, you'll be treated as such. you, Charlie for that wonderful new torture tactic." He said smiling down at his victims.

Angeldust huffed and brushed himself off as he finally stood up. "Yeah, yeah. I'm glad you found something that gets your dick hard, just remember that consent is key before you go around fucking people up. I mean look at Charlie, you practically killed her." He said, gesturing to his friend who was still lying on the floor.

The demon let out a short laugh as he looked at the girl. Alastor snapped his fingers and a glass of water appeared beside Charlie's corpse.

"Well this certainly was an entertaining bonding activity." He said, turning to Angeldust once more.

"Just remember, I won't be as forgiving the next time you decide to pull a stunt like this." The demon said, finally before making his way back down the hall.

"If you took care of that rancid breath I wouldn't have too!" Angel shouted.

"Smells better than the musk you track in after one of your little shoots!"

Angeldust flipped the demon off as he watched him disappear down the hallway.

Eh, he's got a point. He thought to himself and looked down at his friend who was still in a fetal position on the floor.

Charlie had finally caught her breath and turned over on her back. Angel crouched down to inspect the damage.

"You alive?" He asked, giving her a soft punch on her arm.

The princess just glared at him and stuck a finger in his face.

"I am never listening to your dumbass again." She declared, earning another laugh from her friend.

"Yeah, that was a bad idea."

#sfw tickling community #hazbin hotel tickle #ler!alastor #ler!charlie #switch!charlie #lee!charlie #lee!angeldust

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strawberrystepmom · 19 days

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YOU ARE A FEVER | gojo x f!reader | series masterlist | next chapter

cw: mentions of witchcraft and witch hunting. reader has defined physical characteristics (red hair, long length, wavy texture), two sisters, and a complexion that visibly reddens. word count 2.6k.

Is this the sum of my life?

It is not your intention to seem ungrateful for the gift of the years you have lived so far, all twenty something of them, though you will admit grace is difficult when the scratchy fibers of hemp rope binding your wrists together scrape against you with every twist and pull of your hands. One of your neighbors binds you while another digs through the meager belongings, picking through pages of your current journal.

“What are you going to do to me?”

The small mob of people occupying your grandparents kitchen is wordless despite their zeal, no God chosen leader speaking above the crowd to read out your crimes. There is no fairness in this trial and any words you dare speak will only be used to further persecute you.

“A witch alright,” the man picking through the pages of your journal exclaims while holding up a page he ripped from its handbound spine. It’s a page of rudimentary drawings, doodles of a shooting star you witnessed while out in the woods one night alone, and he holds it up triumphantly. The sneer across his face makes you flinch. “Does your family know about you and what you’ve done to them?”

You’ve done nothing though you consider for a moment that this has been your crime. You’ve let them whisper about you and the things you’ve “done” for months, deciding to ignore the rumors rather than address them for fear of stirring more controversy.

“I’m not a witch.”

Your words land with no one and you are given little more than a sidelong glance from the people in your home. The same woman who used to plait your hair when you were a child, just as you have now done for hers many times since their birth ten years ago, refuses to meet your eye while securing another length of rope around your waist. She knots it tightly as though it’s the difference between you remaining where you stand and bolting barefooted into an early winter night, something you hadn’t even considered until now.

There is always the option of running but they’d give chase, a small group of fifteen can still outrun a single woman before she can even make it into the woods. The trees and shrubs miles outside of the dirt road leading to Ucra, your village, have been your refuge from the suffocation of restrictive superstition since you found your hiding places as a young girl.

“What have I done?” Your pleas fall on deaf ears and although you’ve tried your hardest to remain unaffected and stoic, sobs hiccup from the back of your throat before you can stop them. “Will someone please explain what’s happening? Where are my grandparents and sisters?”

You’d be indignant over this treatment if it were less painful to be treated this way by your neighbors and friends, people you once viewed as aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters. Tears fall down your cheek while the woman whose eyes are still downturned gently pulls the tether end of the rope, guiding you out of the small home your family has shared for two generations.

“Witch!”

The word strikes you as colder than the earth and rocks your feet walk across, led by the tether of a rope. There was no consideration for your comfort and goosebumps erupt over your cotton nightgown covered skin. The winter air is almost freezing at night and you glance upward toward the sky, a blanket of stars winking down at you. The night sky has always been more beautiful this time of year. It feels bitter to glance above knowing it’s the last time you will ever do so.

“Witch!”

This time the accusation comes from the lips of a child, the tender age of twelve, one you’ve clothed and bathed more times you can count in an effort to assist her mother. Your role in your village has always been that of a caretaker, if not animals and children then the elderly and ill. The entire village once called you responsible and always where you’re supposed to be though it appears the goodwill only extends as long as they aren’t suspicious.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“What crimes have I committed?”

“Treason!” One of the members of the crowd shouts. “Adultery! My husband admitted to having impure thoughts about you! Cut off her hair so that we can bury it in the woods and it won’t curse another. Flame colored hair is a sign from the Devil!” Another shouts and a few women join her words in unison, your mouth running dry. “Murderer! The goats!”

The goats. Before autumn two of your goats fell ill, several weeks ago two more died unexpectedly. The small, reclusive village lacked the supplies needed to stave off the infection that started in their gums and eventually took their lives. Did this begin all the way back then, before you could ever fathom this cruelty being inflicted upon you?

“My goats were killed too.”

The man tying you to the stake in the middle of the village sneers at your muttered words.

“Of course they were. You thought we’d never suspect you if you killed your own first.”

A pained groan leaves your mouth when the back of your head hits the stake sharply, the man standing in front of you using his forearm to press you against the wood. You attempt to arch your back but are met with another forearm pressed against your torso, someone behind you securing the ropes around your feet, wrists, and middle to the wooden stake they’re planning on burning you on.

“I didn’t do anything!”

Another chuckle from the man pressing his forearm against your sternum, his face inches from yours.

“You’ve been using your cat familiars to spy on all of us, we know your games.”

If you were less shocked by everything happening you would argue that the cats come to you and not the other way around although it wouldn’t do you any good at this point anyway. Everyone’s minds are made up and you look out across the crowd, squinting to see if you can find your family anywhere. There is no sight of them and you are both relieved and terrified, shuddering breath leaving you while your hands are fastened above your head.

“Witch!” The crowd continues to shout in unison, the ringleader backing away to hold oil and a torch in front of everyone looking on that cheers for him to light you up. “Burn her!”

The crackling sound of wood being set alight fills the night air, melting the light snowflakes that are falling into tiny puddles. You shut your eyes tightly and cry wordlessly, smoke filling your nostrils. You hope that inhalation takes you before the flames do, that some God takes mercy on a woman falsely accused, striking her accusers down. You pray and plead and beg and when you feel the air around you shift, your eyes open to see a man standing directly in front of you.

You recognize him.

Satoru Gojo, the man always making the trip to pick up meat and produce for the cafe owner in the city. The man whose smile and eyes are etched in your daydream, their memories messy little sketches in the pages of your journal that will never be returned to you.

“Sorry I’m late, do you know how hard it is to sneak around a village this small without being noticed?”

The man shakes his head, unable to hide that you are not giving him the reaction that he was expecting. Your world is blazing everywhere you look but he is not. He remains unscathed, hair the same color as the stars above dipping over his eyebrows and touching the tips of his eyelashes that are the same color.

“So they’ve called you a witch, huh?” Glancing at him, you blink silently with a quivering bottom lip. A pair of vaguely familiar large eyes dance over every feature and crease of your face, impressed by what they see despite the circumstances. The unbelievable man in front of you is unable to hide his expressions, head tilted with a little smile on his face. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Another sob bubbles out of you. Your body reacts, finally, and you strain against the ropes that bind you and secure you to the stake.

“Please, please, please get me down,” your chest heaves and the white nightgown draped over your frame turns more gray from exposure to smoke with each moment that passes. The heat of the flames licks your feet. A fresh round of tears streams down your face, finally forcing Satoru to move. He reaches above your head, loosening your bindings with his fingers while his magic handles the ones securing your feet and waist. A few seconds feels like an eternity as orange flames give way to hotter blue ones at the heart of the fire and as soon as your arms are free, you wrap them around his neck and cling to him. He chuckles and wraps one arm around your waist, holding you to him tightly.

“They won’t be able to see us leave.” You nod in response to his whisper, holding onto him tightly. “But they will come looking as soon as they realize there are no bones and ashes in the morning.”

These people wanted to wake up to nothing but a pile of you left. Your stomach churns and you squeeze this practical stranger tightly, wrapping your legs around his waist, face buried against his shoulder. Your tears dampen his shirt although he doesn’t mind and before you can think, the heat of the flames disappears and gives way to a whoosh of cooling air.

The two of you materialize inside of a makeshift hideout, stone cave walls surrounding you on all sides when you unbury your face from his neck and look around. Blinking, you look upward and downward and finally directly in front of you. Gojo grins at you, arm still wrapped around your waist and holding you against him.

“Hi there.”

Adrenaline moves your body on its own, beckoning you to lean forward and press your lips against his. You’ve dreamed about this moment before, the day you would be brave enough to kiss this glamorous man who is from a city you have only ever heard about secondhand, and while this feels different it also feels like the exact way to say thank you.

Your lips pucker a second time and press against his though your senses return and your eyes widen, arms unwrapping from around his neck to push yourself away from him.

“Is that how you thank everyone who saves your life?” Your mouth opens and closes silently, words that you want to say refusing to form on your tongue. Satoru has managed to render you speechless and he smirks while keeping his gaze pinned to your shocked face, cheeks still reddened thanks to the blaze you barely escaped from. “Even if it is, I won’t hold it against you.”

Finally you scoff and your body wakes up all at once, attempting to wiggle free from his grasp. He sets you down on the ground below and steps away, holding his hands up innocently. You wrap your own arms around your chest, hands smoothing up and down your forearms to comfort yourself. Looking around the unfamiliar surroundings, you begin crying again.

“Why did you save me?”

He smirks, holding his arms open and glancing at you exaggeratedly.

“I can’t let a pretty girl get burned alive in good conscience, I’m a gentleman after all.”

More tears drip down your nose and chin while you shake your head incredulously, eyes wide.

“That doesn’t answer my question. How did you know? Did you tell them I was..?”

“Absolutely not. You are a witch but I know you didn’t do what they accused you of,” he retorts with a raised brow. “I mean, maybe you are guilty of the fantasy accusation but that’s hardly your fault. Pretty hair, pretty girl…things are bound to happen.”

Gojo reaches out to wrap one of the long strands of your hair around his finger, marveling at the color. You reach up to slap his hand away and he drops the strand, giving you room to pace across the stone floor of the hideaway he has secured you in.

“I’m not a witch!” Chuckling, he sits down on the small bed in the corner of the room and crosses his legs one over the other. “Is that all you took away from everything I just said? You are weird, I was right.”

Feet carrying you forward, you plop next to him on the bed. You know Satoru Gojo but you don’t know him. You know he’s from Amavel, his friend runs a cafe and he’s the only one daring enough to make the quarter of a day’s journey to your village to pick up fresh goods for said cafe. You know he’s charming, everyone in the village gawks at him every time he’s around though it doesn’t answer your question.

“I am weird and scared and I don’t know where my family is and a man I’ve met a handful of times but think about often came out of nowhere to save me from certain death and,” your words tumble out endlessly, breathlessly, and he stops you with a finger to your lips. He withdraws it as soon as you stop speaking and raises his brows, lowering his face until the two of you are eye level.

“Because you’re special.”

Shaking your head, you refuse to believe his words and stand once again. His hand gently closes around your dangling forearm and he pulls you back down to the bed, rubbing his thumb along the inside of your arm the same way you remember your mother doing to comfort you as a child.

“Listen to me before you say anything else.” He instructs and you nod wordlessly, letting him speak. “I saved you because I’ve known for a long time that you are a witch. You don’t have to believe me now but I will prove it to you, okay? I’m going to keep you safe here until the village has given up looking for you and then we will return to Amavel.”

Sighing, you find it hard to argue with a man who seems so certain of everything he says. You lean forward and place your elbows on your knees, turning your palms upward and burying your face in them. The option of running is still on the table though you know it’s unsafe for you to do so in just a nightgown and bare feet so you turn your face toward him, cheeks still warm from the fire, just the fire, and not the way his gaze remains fixed on your face as if he’s afraid to look away.

“How are you so certain?”

Gojo grins and leans in your direction, finally touching you the way he wants. A large palm rubs your back and eventually works down your shoulder and upper arm, settling on scooping one of your hands into his.

“Because I am a witch, you silly girl. How do you think we got here so fast?”

A raised brow is your only response, too shocked by the truth to speak, and he lifts the back of your hand to his mouth to kiss it. That same look as before is on your face, awestruck and overwhelmed. There is an overwhelming urge inside of the man to gloat about your surprise but he thinks better of it, knowing there will be plenty of time for the two of you to discuss your future together.

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #kendall writes #yaaf au #you are a fever #satoken

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laviefantasie · 25 days

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When Emma Falls In Love…

Pairings: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Summary: If there was one thing Satoru was thankful for, it was you.

| Masterlist |

They say it is incredibly rare to find someone that cares about you without another agenda. One that wants to see you achieves your hopes and dreams. One that encourages you to grow and is right by your side throughout each and every mess. One who does not define love with an ‘if’ or a ‘because’, but with an ‘in spite for’ and an ‘even though’. One that is brave enough to love unconditionally, without ever expecting anything in return; one that just gives.

The world has approximately 8 billion people in it and yet, to love or be loved unconditionally is a once in a blue moon occurrence.

Y/L/N Y/N knew this.

She has always known that love is a serendipity. Something fortuitous. She has always known that it is the greatest curse of all; that loving is giving the other person a gun and have them point it at you, allowing them to decide if you live or die.

Yet, she has also always known that everything that can be considered a curse can be considered a blessing, all depends on the point of view.

So, Y/N has never closed herself off to the idea of love. But she has never looked for it either.

To be honest, even if she wanted to look for it (which she doesn’t) she wouldn’t have the opportunity (nor the choice) to do so. Not when she was a Jujutsu Sorcerer from the Y/L/N clan. Not when she was the heiress of said clan.

She didn’t have choices when it came to trivial things like love. She was set to marry as soon as she graduates to start producing another heir, to make sure to pass her family’s curse technique. She had always known this. She had always been taught about it.

So… why was this happening now?

Why was she ignoring Yaga-sensei’s lesson to stare at her white-haired doofus childhood friend/classmate?

And why was her heart beating so loud?

A paper ball hits the back of her head, startling her. Turning in her seat, Y/N meets the nonchalant eyes of her best friend, Ieiri Shoko. Said girl gestures with her eyes to the paper on the floor, so with a fleeting glance at her teacher Y/N bends to pick it up.

[ Why are you staring at Tweedledee over there? ]

Y/N winces slightly as soon as she reads the message. Hurrying to hide it in her notebook, even if there was no one close enough to read it.

Damn Shoko and her intuition.

Deciding to ignore her best friend, Y/N stares straight ahead at her teacher. Physically restraining herself every single time her eyes dared to try to gaze at her white-haired friend.

When class finally ends, Y/N tries to pick her stuff up as soon as possible, hoping to be able to outrun her curious best friend.

But, of course, she was naive for thinking she could.

“Someone’s in a hurry” Shoko’s unbothered sweet voice states from her side, “Wonder why”

Y/N closed her eyes in defeat before opening them to look at the amused eyes of her best friend.

“Now, will you answer my—?”

“Y/N!”

The loud and excited voice of the boy Y/N had spend most of the class staring at startled them both. And soon they are joined by their two other classmates.

The problematic duo. The strongest boys: Tweedledum and Tweedledee, known also as Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru.

The white-haired beauty rests his arm on Y/N’s shoulder as soon as he comes to her side, Geto mimicking his actions with Shoko. Both of them smirking.

“What are you girls whispering about?” Satoru asks with amusement, “Is it about me?”

Shoko scoffs, “In your dreams”

“How’d you know?”

Geto rolls his eyes, “Ignore him. We wanted to ask you both if you wanted to go to Tokyo, there’s this cafe we want to try”

“Sure” Y/N nods, “We should ask Nanami and Haibara if they want to join us”

Satoru groans loudly as soon as the words leave her mouth, and pushes most of his body weight onto her, making her almost lose her balance.

“I refuse”

Suguru lets out a big laugh after his best friend’s words while Shoko only looks totally amused, as if she had already expected that.

Y/N, on the other hand, looks at Satoru with a frown.

“You refuse? Why would you refuse?”

“Because”

“What do you mean ‘because’?”

“Because”

Y/N narrows her eyes before looking at her other friends for answers, but both of them just smile at her, totally amused by the scene happening in front of them.

“One reason. Give me one reason and I’ll agree”

Satoru shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t like sharing”

“Huh?”

Satoru doesn’t wait for her to try to decipher his statement, instead he grabs her bag before pushing her so she starts walking.

“You said to give you a reason, there it is” he pushes her once more “Now, move”

She does as told, even when her mind still works to try to understand what he said. Either way, as soon as they are all out of their school’s barrier said statement is forgotten. After-all, Satoru had always said vague things like that to her ever since they met, nothing worth frying her brain for.

Okay, something was really wrong with her. Not only had she spent all of last month staring at Gojo Satoru every single day whenever he was close, but now she was glaring at said boy while he flirted with a non-sorcerer.

Why the hell was she glaring? Why was she even looking at them? Satoru flirting wasn’t a new occurrence, on the contrary, it was a daily event. For Satoru flirting was as natural and as necessary as breathing, so why was she so bothered by it right now? It’s not as if she had never witnessed it before, so why did it mattered now?

Why was her chest aching so annoyingly? Why did she feel so nauseous when she had barely touched her food? Why couldn’t she drift her gaze away from them?

Y/N clenched her hands shut, forcing herself to look at her food. Why was it so hard to do something as simple as that? Why did her chest hurt enough that she had to remind herself to do something as natural as breathing?

“Not hungry?”

She moves her gaze from her food to the reason behind her inner turmoil who had finally seemed to remember he came here with her, not with the pretty blonde non-sorcerer he was just speaking to.

“Uh…” she fleetingly looks at her untouched full plate, “Not really”

Satoru frowns, “Do you feel okay?”

Breathe in. Breathe out, she reminds herself.

Why was it that she suddenly felt like crying? Was it because he was looking at her with such sincere worry? Or was it because he had lowered his round sunglasses to really look at her with those mesmerizing blue eyes so he could make sure she was okay?

What was wrong with her?

"Uh—I…Jus—Can we go back?" she stammers, "I don't feel really good"

Satoru’s frown deepens, but he nods and soon both of them are making their way back to their school. In complete silence.

As soon as Y/N makes it back to the security of her dorm, she doesn’t waste a single second. She hurries to lock her door and to close her blinds, grabbing her phone as fast as possibly and dialing her mother’s number.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

She needed answers or she would lose her mind, and the only person who she knew could give her those was the one she trusted the most: her mom.

“Honey?” She hears her mom’s sweet and soft voice as she answers, “You good? You never call”

“I…”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Something is wrong” she whispers.

“What’s going on?”

What was going on? That was a hard question. And so she explained, as best as she could. And her mom listened, silently and patiently. Never interrupting her, even when she was stammering and rambling all over the place.

As the words leave her lips in hurried whispers, her feet pace around her room anxiously.

“Oh, honey”

Maybe it was the understanding in her mother’s voice or maybe the softness in her pet name, but it was then that she understood.

“I’m not in love”

But, oh, how ironic. It was the moment the words left her mouth, the moment she tried to convince her mom (or maybe herself) of it, that she understood it.

She was in love with one of her best friends.

Her feet stop pacing. Her heart stops beating. Her breath slows down and her knees tremble. All adrenaline leaving her abruptly.

She has to force herself to move to her bed so she can sit before her body gives up on her.

“Oh” she whispers, “Oh”

“Yeah, oh” her mom responds, “So, the one blessed with the six eyes?”

“Satoru” she whispers as a reflex, used to having to remind a lot of sorcerers around them that Satoru is more than just that.

“Satoru” her mom repeats, “What is he like now? I haven’t seen him in a long time”

“Uh, well… he is something else, definitely” she whispers softly, “He is kind and loyal. Also funny. Although, he has a huge ego… uh, he—kinda a womanizer”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“He is a womanizer” she repeats, as if reminding herself, “Never one to settle down. Gets bored pretty easily of people. Things he’s above all that—romance, I mean. He’s not really serious about anything, so commitment is out of the question. Doesn’t really trust people with his feelings, so that’d be a problem, right? And—”

“Honey,” her mom interrupts, “sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself about how this could end up going wrong without even trying first”

Huh.

So that’s what she’s doing.

Everything changed after the call with her mom. Everything changed once she finally understood what was truly going on with her. How could it not when she was never one to hide her feelings? Always wearing her heart on her sleeve, never knowing how to hide the light in her e/c eyes.

Everyone noticed and she constantly scolded herself for it. Yet, she couldn’t help it.

She couldn’t stop herself from looking at Satoru as if he hung in the air like the stars in outer space, brighter than the moon itself. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling every time their eyes met nor the way her eyes lit up.

But just as she couldn’t stop herself from expressing how she felt, Satoru couldn’t force himself to reciprocate her feelings.

Satoru had never been one to believe in love. He, as she did, believed love to be the worst curse of them all. But, contrary to her belief, he could never even think of the possibility of it being a blessing. So, even when his attitude towards her never change, there was this new wall built between them that kept her far enough to never reach his heart.

She didn’t need to confess for him to know her feelings.

He didn’t need to reject her for her to know his.

They had always been close, since the moment they met when they were six. They had always understood each other without the need to explain themselves, and maybe it was because of the way their cursed techniques were interlaced but it didn’t matter to them.

Both always knew where the other stood.

Y/N knew Satoru wasn’t ready for the love she felt for him. Didn’t even know if he’d ever be ready for it. But she had no intention of falling in love with anyone else, at least not at the moment. So, whenever he’s ready, she’d be there.

He was her first love. He had forever changed her and she knew no matter how hard she tried, that wouldn’t go away.

So, for now, she was content with how little he gave her. She was content with how careful he was with her feelings even when he had no intention of reciprocating them.

So, when did everything change?

There were only four known special grade sorcerers so far in Japan: Tsukumo Yuki, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, and Y/L/N Y/N. Although Tsukumo is not associated with Jujutsu High, so the only sorcerers that Yaga would entrust a mission as important as the one of the Star Plasma Vessel are the three special grades in his care.

“Escort the vessel and erase her?” Satoru asks.

Geto and Y/N share a look before focusing once again on their teacher, who confirms the mission. Not even a second later, Suguru and Satoru start whispering about Yaga losing his mind making the only girl present roll her eyes.

By the end of the conversation, the three best friends were on babysitting duty of the girl meant to reset master Tengen’s cursed technique.

Y/N receives her cold black tea from Satoru’s hands before they start making their way once again to the location of the Star Plasma Vessel, all while Suguru tries to answer each of Satoru’s questions.

“Anyways, it should be okay” Satoru shrugs, “We’re the strongest”

Y/N scoffs a laugh, while Suguru sighs and tries to explain to Satoru how he should start dialing down his narcissistic tendencies.

“Sheesh, give me a break” Satoru groans, “Y/N likes me the way I am, right?”

Her eyes widen and a blush soon makes home in her cheeks, making her turn her face away from him to avoid his amused smile.

“Uh—I…”

An explosion saves her from answering, although she isn’t sure she’d rather deal with that. Maybe that’s when everything started truly going downhill.

It didn’t take long for the three of them to take action and defeat the Q workers, saving the girl they learned was Amanai Riko. The young girl was a firecracker that had made Y/N laugh after she slapped Satoru and insulted Suguru. Maybe things would’ve been better if she hadn’t been so innocent and likable; if she hadn’t been so young and pure.

But things hadn’t been better. Honestly, things couldn’t have gone more wrong.

She wishes they’d stayed in Okinawa. All of them had been so at peace there. All of them had so much fun. They had gone to the beach after rescuing Amanai’s caretaker, where Satoru had run to the water with Y/N on his grasps while ignoring her screams. They had eaten and joked around before going to the aquarium.

Maybe she should’ve stopped Satoru from staying awake that night, maybe she should’ve made him rest for some time instead of deciding to make him company before falling asleep on his shoulder. Maybe then things would’ve been different.

But Y/N had done none of that and now she was staring at the consequences.

Satoru was just stabbed in front of her, just after they crossed the barrier around Jujutsu High that protected them.

Y/N had never wanted more to fully dominate her cursed technique. Never had she ever wanted to understand the depth behind the intricate time manipulation cursed technique her family possessed that made them the Gojo clan’s greatest ally. She possessed one of the most powerful known cursed techniques, one that could make her an equal to Satoru, yet she had never truly bothered with anything below the surface.

Not even when her father had explained to her the greatness she was destined to achieve. Not when, like Satoru, her birth had change the world.

She had never wanted to be exceptional, she had always just wanted to be strong enough to protect those she loved. Acquiring her cursed techniques full depth came with a great sacrifice. One she had never been willing to pay.

But now?

Now she’d pay the price without a second thought. What did it matter if she’d have to suffer through the pain of her eyes bleeding until her irises and pupils turned completely white? What did it matter if her lifetime shall shorten with every time she fooled destiny? What would it matter if she’d have to live with the possibility of losing her mind at any moment, never distinguishing the difference between the past, the present or the future again?

She would do it. She would do it without a second thought if that meant not staring at Satoru in the eyes as he orders her to follow Suguru, to leave him behind, as he bleeds.

She shakes her head.

She wasn’t leaving him, not with whoever that man was. She could feel he was dangerous, she didn’t know how she knew it but she did.

Y/N would never forgive herself if she left him behind.

“You have to trust me, Y/N” Satoru’s smile softens, “Trust me”

She shouldn’t have turned around, but she did. She trusted him with her life, so she had to trust him with his own.

She’d never trust him like that again.

Blood flows from her mouth as she lays face down on the floor, wounds all over her body as Fushiguro Toji stares down at her.

“So this is the Y/L/N pride” he murmurs, “Aren’t you supposed to be strong? The Gojo’s Six Eyes biggest ally or something like that? That’s the story, isn’t it? The space and time techniques are supposed to coexist with one another according to the legend of the Six Eyes and the Blind One, am I wrong?”

Y/N coughs out blood, her gaze blurring.

“At least he put up a fight” he scoffs, “You were doing so well until I told you I killed him”

She flinched at the reminder, making him scoff once again.

“The Blind One that sees all” he scoffs in disbelief, “What a joke. Let’s end this here, agree?”

He stabs her once more, forcing her to cough out even more blood before forcing the blade to go from her lower back to the back of her neck.

“You’re no threat with how little control you have over your cursed technique” he murmurs, “but waiting for you to become one is not an option. It was to meet you, let’s never do this again”

She tried to stay awake, tried to remember everything Shoko had ever taught her about reverse cursed technique, but her mind was too out of it to form any coherent thought. Maybe that was how she was meant to die, after all her life had always been intertwined in a way with Satoru’s, so if he was gone what was the point of her being there at all?

Her eyes closed, yet she kept breathing.

Her mind was fuzzy, yet like a mantra the names of every single person she loved repeated themselves over and over again.

That’s when she felt it happen.

Her eyes open wide and a painful scream, strong enough to tear her vocal cords, left her body. Blood started pouring out of her eyes as the e/c and black in them starts being burnt away as if the water in her eyelids was acid.

She had never felt pain like this. It felt as if her eyes were being stabbed by a hundred needles over and over again. And when it finally stopped, and her body started healing herself once again, she understood every word her father had ever uttered to her about their powerful cursed technique.

So this is what it means to be blessed and cursed. To give more time as you lose your own. She had felt herself dying, yet her own cursed technique sent her body back in time, to when she hadn’t yet been hurt. Even as hours of her future self were taken from her for cheating death, she could still see it. It was crystal clear in her mind, as if it was a scene she had seen in a movie.

So that’s what her father meant when he told her she could lose herself to the past, the present, the future, and all its endless possibilities?

That was meant to be her world from now on.

“Y/N”

She blinks once. Twice. Thrice. Before pushing herself to a kneeling position so she could move her gaze to the source. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be.

Yet it was. She knew it. It wasn’t one of the possibilities on the multiverses she could see.

Even with her eyesight lost, she could sense his cursed technique. He could visualize him by the way his cursed technique lit up his body shape.

He was here. He was alive.

“Stand up” he tells her, “ Amanai is dead. We failed”

Her knees tremble as she forces herself to stand. How could he be so calm? How could his voice sound so devoid of emotion? She wishes she could truly see him, she always used to know what he was feeling with just one look.

Things were gonna be different now.

It started with little changes. First, Y/N had to return to her clan immediately to train her technique. She had to learn to control what she saw before frying her brain. She had to also learn to dominate reverse curse technique.

She wasn’t just a normal time cursed user like the rest of her clan, it wasn’t just freezing or slowing your opponent anymore. A touch from her could now age, could kill. A touch from her could now rebirth, could save.

She was now a weapon. A shield. More importantly, she was the strongest right hand. Space and time always cohabiting with each other.

When she finally came back to school, everything had already changed too much and she couldn’t even bother herself with adapting to the changes, too trouble by the different dreams of the different future outcomes. Of all the choices that hadn’t yet been made but could be, of all their consequences.

She didn’t remember the last time she had spent some time with her best friends, the only person she spent time with lately being Satoru. Satoru, who for some reason she didn’t bother to analyze, always seek her when he finally had time off from a mission. Never leaving her side unless he really had to.

All of them had forever been changed after their failed mission. So, when was it enough?

She hadn’t been there to see Suguru slowly start to lose himself, too focused on Satoru and herself to notice the little clues laid in front of her of the future she had seen yet refused to believed.

Then, she had seen Haibara’s dead body.

She tried to stop it then. Hoping, wishing, it wasn’t too late. She had run to him that night, meeting him on the courtyard of their school as he smoked the night away.

“Please don’t”

He didn’t look at her. Barely inhaled a smoke before letting his gaze fall from the moon, as if its light was too much for him.

“I don’t know what you’ve seen, but I’m not planning anything”

“I know you’re not” she whispers “but I also know what you’ll see. Please don’t leave us behind”

His dark saddened eyes turn to look at her, really look at her and her breath hitches. One of the things she loathes about being able to see the past is the new perspectives she has of those around her. She had always been living her life as the Earth, always rotating around her sun. Never bothering to look at the moon, that always rotated around her.

Satoru was her sun, but Suguru had quietly always been her moon. And she had never once noticed before.

While she was too busy staring lovestruck at Satoru, Suguru had stared at her. But he had always been selfless, and he has always been happy with just gazing from afar, just like she was always happy only staring at Satoru.

This new depth in her technique made it painfully obvious for her the softness in which he gazed at her, even with all the sadness and conflict he carried in them he could still gaze at her with that particular softness. It made her heart ache.

“I would never leave you behind”

It sounded like a promise to anybody else, but to her it was like a blade to her heart. It was one more step to the future she so wanted to avoid.

She sat by his side that night, giving him the comfort of her presence.

On September, he went on the mission to exorcise a spirit to blame for the mysterious deaths and disappearances on a village.

That day he killed 112 villagers. On that day, he was sentenced to execution on sight as a curse user.

She was the first one to arrive when Shoko called, and the smile he gave her was all she needed to confirm her greatest fear. Her heart bled once she saw the soften in his gaze as he saw her, never wavering.

“I’m sorry I have to leave you behind” he whispered once they were far enough from Shoko, “I don’t want to, but I know you won’t follow me”

“We can fix this. I can fix this”

She could. She had the power to. She would do it if he asked, even if it cost her half of her lifetime.

“I don’t want you to” he whispered softly, “I want you to live a long and full life, not to sacrifice it for my own choices”

“You promised…”

“I know, that’s my only regret” he smiled, “You look beautiful. You are beautiful, I’m sorry I never said it before”

“Suguru…”

Both of them stopped as soon as they felt the curse energy of the only one missing from their group.

“Explain yourself, Suguru”

His smile faltered. He looked at her one last time, softly and full of adoration.

“Don’t let him hurt you” he whispered, “Thank you for everything”

And then, Suguru turned around to face his best friend before leaving them all behind. Before leaving everything he once believed in behind.

“What are you doing here?”

It was around 2 am when a knock on your door had woken you up, the last thing you had expected was to see Satoru’s aura on the other side. Since Suguru’s departure your best friend had started going to even more missions then before, making it impossible for you to actually see him for more than a few minutes.

You hadn’t really expected to see him soon, much less at the current time.

“May I come in?”

His tone is low, with no hint of a joke in it, which makes you open your door wide enough for him to cross without hesitating in the slightest.

Honestly, he could ask anything from you and you’d give it to him. No questions asked.

She feels him move to the middle of her room as she closes the door, his feet drawing circles on the floor showing the anxiety he must be feeling.

“I didn’t know you were back”

“I just came” he murmurs, “I’m sorry for barging in, I just—I needed to see you”

Y/N’s breath hitches and her heart throbs loudly in her chest. It was weird, the feeling of drowning that she had become so familiar with was slowly disappearing, as if just the sound of his voice was enough to remind her how to swim. Enough to help her breathe again.

She had been alone all this time. Shoko had been dealing with the abandonment in her own way by herself, only coming to her when the loneliness became too much. When that happened, Y/N had to ignore her own broken pieces to help hold those of her best friend. And once she was sure Shoko was well enough to go back to her own cave, she was left alone to take on both of their pain to bear it all by herself.

She wasn’t one to walk away, not unless she absolutely had to leave. But all she had needed all this time was to hear Satoru’s voice to remember the strength she possessed.

“You wanna lay down?”

He sees his aura move towards her bed, making her know he agreed to her suggestion.

With a deep breath, Y/N moves to join him. It wasn’t the first time they had ever slept on the same bed, they had tons of sleepovers as kids.

But this was different. They were older and wiser. They knew pain firsthand now. They also knew what the other really meant to one another, and how precious each moment together truly was. How ephemeral everything could be.

So as Satoru pulled her closer to him as he hugged her from behind, both of them felt the tension they had been carrying leave their bodies.

After so long, Satoru finally felt at peace once again. The void that had been his heart all this time felt completed. He could finally breathe without feeling something pushing against his chest.

That was the first time in a while he truly slept.

There truly was no reason for Y/N to love him, so Satoru didn’t understand how he had gotten so lucky. After Haibara’s death and Suguru’s betrayal, after Nanami’s abandonment, Satoru truly didn’t think he was someone worth staying for.

But Y/N never once left his side. Never even thought about it. It didn’t matter that she had spent ten years loving him without even a glimpse of him reciprocating said feelings, she had stayed.

He loved her, he truly did. He just didn’t know what being in love meant or felt like, so he couldn’t say he was in love with her. All he knew, as he stared at her right now while she said her goodbye to Yuta, was that knowing her had changed his whole world.

He had once asked her a few years back why she loved him. She had stayed quiet for a few minutes before finally answering in her soft voice that she reserved just for him.

“You just know. There doesn’t have to be a particular reason. I don’t think you need a reason to love someone, your heart chooses them before your mind even has a say. It’s something you can’t really control, it just takes over you. It hits you when you least expect it. You feel alive, you feel better; I don’t think it’s something anybody will truly understand, and they don’t have to. It’s not something meant to be understood by others, only by your heart”

He hadn’t said anything after her. Hadn’t even smiled or nodded. All he had done was stare at her and repeat every single word in his mind over and over again, until they had been engraved in his memory.

Those words were repeated like a mantra whenever he needed something to give him hope, something to fight for.

Those words along with the memories of the hundreds of nights they looked for refugee in each other’s arms were the inhaler that helped him breathe. He had never truly known what a real home felt like until she had held him with so much care, care he hadn’t ever truly known; care that made him feel like a kid needing to be cared for instead of the strongest everybody expected him to be.

He was grateful for her. For every time she made him feel loved and appreciated. For every moment she stared at him as if he was the moon and the stars and the whole galaxy. For helping him raise Tsumiki and Megumi without ever complaining about it. For helping him mend his broken heart even when the broken pieces scarred her hands until they bled.

He didn’t know if he was in love with her, he just knew that he did love her with all his heart and soul.

And as she finally started walking towards him after letting go of Yuta, with her bright smile that made her whitened eyes crinkle, it finally hit him. She was the person he wanted to come home to every night. The person he wants to tell about his day. The person to share his happiness, his sadness, his success and his failures with.

Everything was better with her. Everything had been better since her, because of her.

She who had loved the parts of him that were not easy to love. For turning the pages in his book gently, and helping him rewrite a happy ending to his tragic narrative.

Y/N was like a book the you couldn’t put down once you pick it up. The kind of girl that would make every bad boy turn good. A shelter for his heart when it rained. A breath of fresh air whenever he felt like drowning.

She was everything and so much more and he truly didn’t know how to tell her. He was never good at expressing how he felt, he was of an acts of service guy. So how could he show you how much you truly meant to him? How much he really needed you? How much he loved you?

“…ru. Satoru. Satoru!” His gaze snaps towards you, seeing you look at him with amusement, “I’ve been calling you nonstop. A penny for your thoughts?”

Don’t ever stop smiling at me. Don’t ever stop looking at me. Don’t ever leave me.

“Ready to go home?”

He can see the confused frown on her face, but her smile is never wiped and that gives him hope of her understanding the underlying message on his words.

Home was wherever she was. So wherever she went, he would follow. He wanted to go home with her, because he wanted to hold her and never let her go. He wanted to be the reason for her smiles and the ones she chose to share her laughs with.

He wanted everything.

“Let’s go home, ‘toru”

He may have been cursed since birth, but it was all worth it if he had you.

[[ Really not my best work but my first Gojo One-Shot. Hope you all like it! I’m open to requests. Thank you for reading!!]]

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wnobin · 3 months

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BIT BY BIT… 💭 anton lee socmed! au

pairing: college student! anton x campus crush! reader

genre: college! au, social media! au with written portions, slow burn, pining, strangers to friends to lovers.

series synopsis: in which the quiet girl in anton’s language class who seems to never sit with anyone catches his attention. anton makes it his mission to get closer to her bit by bit and break down her walls. the only issue? she’s the last to arrive and first to leave, never allowing anton the chance to approach her.

chapter warnings: mentions of blood and injuries, anton and sohee being idiots, sungchan being an idiot and getting karma, fully written chapter

series masterlist | 12: three rules

first rule of being team manager: make sure the boys’ water bottles are always filled before their breaks.

“they only get 5 minute breaks in between sessions so you need to make sure their bottles are filled and ready so they don’t waste any unnecessary time. there’s a water cooler at both ends of the gymnasium.”

it was yours and eunchae’s second time at the basketball team’s training and chaewon was explaining the three main rules managers had to follow while the team was busy warming up and running laps. eunseok and shotaro, the captains, were leading the rest, seunghan and sungchan trying to outrun each other as the other three jogged at a relaxed pace, chatting amongst themselves.

“for the last time anton, i’m not hitting you in the face, or anywhere else for that matter. even i think that’s too far.”

“oh come on, you had no issue doing it last time!”

“that’s because it wasn’t intentional last time! and besides, it was your fault for jumping out and scaring me when the gym’s power went out.”

anton rolled his eyes, increasing his speed and deciding to jog up to sungchan and seunghan in front, trying to see if any of them would be up to giving him a black eye.

“for some reason eunseok doesn’t like his water cold so you have to use the water cooler at the left side of the gym, it dispenses room temperature water.” chaewon explained as the three of you began gathering their bottles, highlighting how the red bottle, which belonged to eunseok, was the only one that had special instructions. eunchae brought the captain’s bottle to the other side of the gym while you and chaewon headed to the other water cooler, busying yourselves with refilling the bottles and talking about how your classes have been.

“so i texted her again and she told me she dropped the class? well, not really dropped it officially, but she stopped showing up and told me she doesn’t mind failing it. she was the only one in that class that i talked to on a regular basis,” you had a somewhat disappointed tone, admitting to your friend that you were struggling to find people to connect with in some of your classes, with most of your classmates already finding their cliques and settling down as it was well into the semester already. it wasn’t that you were unpleasant to be around or unfriendly, it was just that you were too introverted for your own good and didn’t know how to approach people, a flaw that always ended up coming to bite you in the ass.

you handed chaewon a blue bottle with a brachiosaurus sticker on it as she hummed, reassuring you that this phase would eventually pass and you would find someone you click with naturally, just like how she and sakura became friends when they were freshmen. “don’t you know seunghan and anton? they’re in your class too, right?”

“i’m not close to them, i’ve only talked to anton once. they seem to be together all the time.”

“ah, that’s because anton is too shy to go anywhere on his own. he always makes sure he has either seunghan or sohee with him.” chaewon motioned to anton, who was currently chitchatting with seunghan as they were finishing their last lap, the younger male putting his hands together and seemingly begging his teammate for something.

turning off the dispenser, you and chaewon brought the heavy bottles back to the benches just as the team had completed their warm ups. the group of them had collapsed on the floor, panting as they gulped down their water desperately. while they were cooling off, chaewon began to explain what else you and eunchae should remember as managers.

second rule: make sure there are always ice packs ready.

just behind the gym was a small utility room where the team kept extra basketballs, towels, and a mini fridge used to store ice packs. “injuries happen a lot more often than you think. a lot more. i would say we go through about three ice packs a week? minimum three. oh, and sometimes the team members use this fridge to store ice cream for when they finish practice. if they leave without taking it, it’s yours.” you and eunchae bent down, inspecting the contents of the mini fridge which had four ice packs, two bottles of banana milk, and one vanilla ice cream in it. chaewon proceeded to show you two around the room, showing where the first aid kit was and where the spare towels were kept. while that was happening, all three of you were unaware of the chaos outside.

“taro hyung, i told you i needed them today!”

“i’m sorry, i was running late and forgot to bring them! why do you even want my old shoes? they’re so worn out and they have no friction, you’ll basically slip on the court.”

anton whined as his vice-captain continued to question his intentions for wanting his worn out and tattered shoes, confused as to why the younger male was suddenly asking such odd favours from everyone on the team. between initiating a conversation by going up to you and getting someone else to physically hurt him, anton decided the latter was much easier. seunghan and sohee told him that he was insane but he didn’t care, he was just desperate at this point. it had been two months since he started having lessons with you and the furthest he had gotten was that conversation with you in the hallways. sure you two would smile at each other when you bumped into him around campus but anton wanted more and he was willing to do whatever it took. just not approach you first, obviously.

“what’re you doing, sohee?” seunghan creeped up behind his friend who was holding onto a basketball, squinting as he tried to perfect his aim. his aim which was directed towards anton. “i’m trying to see if i can get this ball to hit anton in the face. it’s better to do it when he’s distracted, this way he won’t see it coming.” instead of calling sohee insane too, seunghan held onto his hands, guiding the ball to the left. “this is a better aim.” sohee muttered out a soft thanks, fully focused on making sure his one and only chance of hitting anton would not be wasted. once the both of them were finally satisfied with their position, sohee launched the ball towards anton, hitting him right in the face and making him fall backwards from the impact.

the sound of the ball coming into contact with his face was so loud, it got your attention even from inside the utility room. “sounds like someone just got hit by a ball. y/n, this is your time to shine.” chaewon pushed the first aid kit towards you, ushering you and eunchae out of the room and back onto the court where you were met with the sight of anton holding his face in pain while the other team members surrounded him. you quickly went up to him, helping him up and holding his arm to guide him to the bleachers carefully. you saw a slight trickle of blood and panicked, tightening your grip on his arm. you didn’t even notice how the male had a slight smile on his face and turned around to give his friend a thumbs up, sohee giving him one back as well.

you slowly guided anton and helped him sit down as you opened the first aid kit and got some tissues ready. you gently pressed the tissue to his nose to clean up some of the blood, fingers lightly touching the bridge of his nose to make sure it wasn’t broken. “does it hurt when i do this?” you applied pressure on some areas, your face dangerously close to his. anton held his breath and he nodded, a little faster than he could currently handle, wincing in pain. you held onto his chin, your touch gentle and soft, tilting his head back slightly.

“um… aren’t you supposed to tilt the head downwards for nosebleeds?”

“oh. right,” you awkwardly giggled, changing the position of anton’s head and tilting it downwards with your other hand on the back of his head for support. you gently patted the back of his head, stroking his hair unconsciously as you occasionally replaced the tissues and checked to see if the bleeding subsided. throughout all this, the two of you remained silent but it wasn’t an unpleasant silence, with your gentle caresses and actions, anton felt comforted by you. once his nose stopped bleeding, you threw away the dirty tissues and left to get an ice pack from the mini fridge before returning and holding the cold object to anton’s nose. eventually the male decided it was time to do what he came here to do and speak up. “how’s your assignment with yoon going?”

“sucks. yoon dropped the class so i’m stuck doing it on my own.” anton tried to hide how the corners of his lips were beginning to turn up, internally thanking that so many of the students in this class were dropping it. “really? i got paired with ricky but he dropped it too… he even blocked me when i tried to message him.” the both of you laughed at how you were in the same situation, the awkwardness between you two melting away. “do you… wanna do the assignment with me? since we both don’t have partners! but it’s totally fine if you would rather do it on your own and—“

“i would like that a lot,” anton’s nervous rambling was cut off by you saying yes and he felt like the world just came to a stop. after weeks of never getting the opportunity to talk to you and get paired up with you, it was like the universe finally aligned and gave him what he needed. he was about to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone for you to type your number into when he remembered he kept his phone in his locker. seeing anton reach into his pocket and coming out with nothing, you realised that he must’ve wanted to exchange numbers. you still had your phone with you, so you took it out and gave it to him to enter his number, which he saved as ‘anton :)’. you gave him a small smile before putting your phone away and inspecting his nose again, removing the ice pack and lightly touching the tip. “does it still hurt?” you had your eyes on his nose, which was red and looked like it would bruise, but anton had his eyes on you, pupils dilated and dazed as he shook his head. “that’s good. looks like you can go back to practice now.”

before anton could begin to thank you for taking such good care of him, sungchan’s voice could be heard from the court. “anton, stop flirting with eunseok’s sister and come back!”

the rest of his teammates erupted into giggles only to get silenced by the sound of a basketball coming into contact with sungchan’s face, thanks to no one other than eunseok himself.

third rule: don’t piss off eunseok when he’s holding a basketball because he has the best aim, that’s why he’s team captain.

taglist (closed due to the limit!): @andromedawillburyyou @imsiriuslyreal @beckiiee00 @dreamiestay @babigriin @kyusqult @eumppappaswife @sserafilms @annswwa @lecheugo @llearlert t @nyuoqi @thesunoosshining @yangasm @mmsriza @myizhuos @miyawakiblossoms @hyucksdelicate @ilovejungwonandhaechan @snowyseungs @soobiary @ilovejaketoomuch @cla1r20 @darlingz99 @chiiyuuvv @lilacarat @ohmykwonsoonyoung @sonjuyeonnie @nicholasluvbot @haechology @luvnicho @numberonetaleprince @addores @revehosh @jscvhs @istphanie @b-riize @miszes @shnnzsworld @ppoddorii @cowsmicwu @kiwigyuu @chuutaroo @dcvvr @delulu4soobs @l0ve-joy @ffixtionista @would-bee @renjuneoo @yunjinsbbg @brachiotoni @jakeists @brachioswrld

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 2 months

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For the asks - "I wish you would write a fic where..."

Would you ever do a follow up to little bat? 🖤🖤

Can be read as a follow-up to Little Bat but also as a standalone. For a summary: your boyfriend tried to choke you after getting greedy that you were outshining him. Xaden came to your rescue but while the threat was taken care of some damage remained.

Things hunting us

“She has to train”, Garrick muttered under his breath as he and Xaden looked over the cadets filling up the training grounds. “You told me that ten times today”, Xaden pointed out keeping his tone low. “Proves my point that you’re not listening”, Garrick said through gritted teeth. Xaden didn’t need to look at his friend to see the frustration. Things had been uneasy ever since the attack. With people mostly fearing for themselves. Weary eyes bouncing around the rooms.

“She was nearly choked a week ago”, Xaden still felt as if someone was choking him now. He was confused. Mostly. With himself. He wasn’t sure why he had stayed the night after. Well, he had told himself that he stayed to protect you. Keep an eye on you. But then he stayed a day after. And one after. Until being close got too much and now he was running away in full speed. “Xaden, I get it believe me. I had a go at that fucker myself but rules are rules”, Garrick pointed out, “You, I, we can’t keep making excuses for her, we don’t run this place”.

And he knew it was true, it was. Xaden had been covering up for you ever since and even he was running out of ways to fill in your absence. He dragged a hand over his face as he rounded the corner on the second floor. Stopping hesitantly before his knuckles beat against the wood.

“It’s Xaden, can I come in?”, shit did he sound desperate? He should have kept his tone more raw and cold. He heard ruffling on the other side. Slow movements followed right by. Then the doors swung open. And here you were. Hair in a messy bun. Dark bags beneath your eyes. One's that weren’t there the last morning that he left you. So you probably hadn’t been sleeping well.

“Hey”, you rasped out, wrapping our sweater tightly around your shoulders. “Hi”, he muttered back. And here it was that urge to keep you locked up. To keep you away from everyone. To keep you safe. Bubbling deep within. “I thought that we should try going to the communal floor today” if only people who feared him saw him. With his soft voice and all. “I’m fine thanks”, you breathed out, stepping back and reaching to close the door but Xaden pushed his boot forward, blocking the way.

“Yn, you can’t keep doing this”, his palm pressed against the wood. You didn’t fight it. You stepped back as well. Letting him into your room. “He’s taken care of”, Xaden promised but you shook your head. Turning back only to twirl back angrily, “And who is taking care of this?”, you pointed. Your neck was a canvas for all the colors possible. Angry finger marks were even more visible than the night of the attack. An angry tear slipped past your cheek and Xaden instantly stepped forward.

“Look at me”, he said softly but you simply hooked your head. “As your wing leader I am ordering you to”, his tone was firmer this time. Demanding. Angry eyes met this. But anger was good. Angry meant that there was still a spark left in you.

“Own it”, he said, you let out a bitter chuckle, “You’re inside”. “No, you own it”, he said once more. Keeping his grip on the side of your face firm but not enough to harm.

“Some weak ass shit tried to go the easiest route”, Xaden searched for your eyes but you didn’t give in. Emotions were all over the place. “He couldn’t outrun you so he took the coward's way out. He abused the power he had over you”, he continued. He wasn’t big on speaking. But words came easy when they were shared between you both.

“From here on now. You will not shed a single tear over him. You will scrap him out of your head because he didn’t deserve you. And you will walk out this room with your head held high and show everyone that if they try messing with you they will not walk away from the fight”, now your face was cradled in both of his palms and for the first time you glanced up at him.

“But it wasn’t me, wasn’t me who stopped him”, your voice was barely a whisper. “So what”, Xaden shrugged. “So they can easily do what he did”, you whined, feeling the panic rising once more. “No they can’t”, Xaden said firmly, and when he said that you were gonna argue back he added quickly, “They can’t because if they even breath in your direction I will make sure that they regret that they were born”.

Silence filled the room. For a moment it felt as if the two of you were not even here. That nothing else mattered that it was just too. But then you stepped back. Putting distance between you both, “Why are you doing this? Why are you being so nice?”, you muttered. You had heard endless stories of how ruthless this man was. No heart. No soul. But you had seen none of that. He was nothing like people portrayed him.

“Because I want to”, he shrugged, lips curving into a grin. “No, Xaden”, you pointed a warning finger at him. “I do, now”, he said, reaching to undo his leather, “Wear this while you’re at it. Lunch starts in ten minutes”. You caught his flying jacket midair. Instantly pressing it to your chest. But your brain was screaming at you, “We can’t wear other cadets' clothes”, you argued but Xaden only hummed in answer, “Shift in the rules”. His fingers tilted your chin up, “Now that you’re mine you can”.

#xaden riorson #xaden riorson imagine #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson x you #xaden riorson x oc #xaden riorson iron flame #xaden riorson fourth wing #xaden x reader #xaden x you #xaden imagine #iron flame imagine #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x you #fourth wing x reader

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killmongerskeepermain · 7 months

Text

Hide and Seek

Pairing: Ghostface!Shuriri x FemReader

Warning: Fluff // Being Hunted? // Smut // Shuri calling the shots // Slight Dom!Shuri

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Hope yall like it!!!

Shuri // Riri

"Usana don't be nervous. We aren't going to hurt you." Shuri laughed as you rolled your eyes behind the blindfold you were tricked into wearing. "It's just us ma. You ain't got nothing to be worrying about."

"The blindfold?" You asked, pointing at your face and the two women once again laughed at your whining. "Gotta keep it a surprise." Riri replied, rubbing her hand over the back of your neck. "You've said that but I am not convinced." The drive wasn't long but you felt yourself slowly drifting off to sleep before the car came to a stop. "We're here." You reached for the knot where the blindfold was tied before a pair of hands stopped you.

"Slow down we got to go over the rules first." Riri chuckled and you sighed but put your hands in your lap. "Now this a big building. Abandoned. The point of this little game is to run and hide. We chase, you run. For 45 whole minutes. Whoever gets to you first gets to have their way with you all night while the other watches." You felt your pussy throb at the thought and had to stop yourself from biting your lip. Didn't want to seem too excited. "And if neither of you catches me?"

"You take the lead this time. But if we catch you, it won't be too nice." Practically grinning, Riri jumped out of the back seat and opened your door. You held onto her as you stepped out. Feeling Shuri walk up behind you, your eyes fluttered open as she undid the blindfold. You stared up at the long abandoned 2 story building in front of you. "Yall want me to hide in there?" The question rolled off your tongue before the past princess laughed into your shoulder. "It's alright. We checked it beforehand. It's empty and has been for some years."

"And what if some crackhead snuck in there. Or if some masked psycho tries to kill me?" Riri wrapped her hand around your waist as she peppered soft kisses to your jaw. "They're gonna have to deal with us first." You rolled your eyes as you looked back up at the building. "Do I get a head start?"

"Of course. 10 minutes." Shuri said letting the wind blow through her curls with her eyes closed. "You want me to find a hiding spot in THERE in 10 minutes? What the fuck is yall on?"

"9 minutes." Her tone was filled with mischief and you narrowed your eyes as she stared up at the sky. "You better run baby." You didn't even reply to Riri as you slowly backed away from the two. When Shuri said nothing else you took the hint and booked it through the busted front door. Scanning the area you cursed to yourself and up the first set of stairs you saw. You figured you'd only make it to the second floor before they came in. Ducking room after room you tried to find a good spot to sit and hide. Under a desk? No, too easy. Behind a door? Come on now Y/N. You know these two. Riri is too quiet and Shuri is stupid fast. You can't outrun either of them. All you know is that you CANNOT sit still. Move when they move. Stop when they stop. Alright. This office room will be your starting point. 10 minutes had passed and you couldn't do anything but wait. Wait until you spotted one of them because hearing them was out of the question. The building was silent. Not even their footsteps were heard. You had managed to keep yourself hidden for a good 30 minutes. You'd see one of the women every now and then but you kept your distance. Eventually you managed to see a shadow turn one of the far off corners down the hall. One of them was up here with you again. "Come out. Come out, wherever you are." You caught a glimpse of her turning the corner in front of you and you silently creeped into the next room, ignoring her taunting. Figured since she checked there she won't come back. You silently ducked under a nearby desk as one of them dragged into the room. You had a feeling it was Riri. Her walk was smooth and confident. Even though they were hunting you, they weren't going to hurt you. Although the thrill of it all sent jolts through your bones. Something felt off. There's no way they'll find you in the next 10 minutes. But that's the scary part. They usually don't take this long when they are in full hunter mode. You shook your head and determination crossed your features as you watched her movements. When she left the room you slowly made your way down the hall with a wide grin. Time was almost up. And for once you were going to win. All you had to do was make it back outside. Reaching the bottom of the stairs meant you were home free. You scanned the hall to the left of you. And to the right. Not a single mask in sight so you made a dash to the front door with a wide smile on your lips.

Just before you could reach the doorway, a gloved hand grabbed your waist and lifted you off the ground. You whipped your head around and looked up to see Shuri take off her mask with a smirk. "Aww so close. But I win." Her lips founds yours as she pulled you in for a passionate kiss. "How did you…..where did you even come from! I checked!" Riri came down the stairs and slipped her own mask off. "Damn I should have just got her upstairs."

"Excuse me? You knew I was there?"

"Of course I did. I was playing with my food and slipped up." She started with a slight shrug. "As per usual." Shuri's comment was ignored and Riri went to continue her thought. "But it's good to see you get all nervous. Not knowing our next move." She grinned and you folded your arms across your chest. Shuri kissed your temple as you huffed. "You were so close to getting out." She pecked your lips as you rolled your eyes. "Come on. Let's get home before the storm rolls in."

When you made it home you could barely sit still. Curious about what she had planned for you. Shuri made the three of you drinks and you made a quick toast before downing it in one gulp. The two of you followed the taller woman to the bedroom and she tossed her bag on the floor. You could tell she wasn't going to make this easy for you. No matter how much you craved it. Had this turned out in your favor you'd be downstairs forcing the two of them to watch a movie with you while the rain fell. But you lost. You lost and she was about to indulge in her prize. "Hold out your hands." You did as you were told and held out your arms in front of you. She used the blindfold from earlier and tied your wrists together. With a raised brow Riri sat down in the bedroom chair as Shuri pushed you to sit on the bed. Your eyes never left hers as she let her jacket fall to the floor. Without breaking her gaze she tied the other end of the blindfold to the headboard. "Just to make sure you don't move." She said as she held up her knife. "Shuri-" Your warning was cut short as she planted a kiss on your neck. "I'm not going to cut you princess. Just getting this out of the way." She made a clean cut of your shirt and bra straight down the middle. Your breath hitched as the cool air hit your exposed skin. Your nipples hardened not long after she pulled your pants down your legs. She grabbed hold on one of one of your breasts while letting her lips close around the pierced bud. You arched off the mattress feeling your own wetness coating your thighs.

"Fuck, Shuri." She started to suck on your sensitive buds causing your legs to wrap around her hips. You needed her closer. Her kisses left a hot wet trail down your body as she maneuvered her way between your thighs. She gave a quick kiss to your throbbing clit as her thumb brushed against your opening. "She's so wet for me. Perfect." With one lick you moaned out wishing you could just push her face where you needed her the most. She started off slowly while you enjoyed the moment, fluttering your eyes closed. Everytime you would try to push down into her she'd smack your thigh. "I don't need your help usana. I can make you cum on my own." As the words left her she dove back into your dripping pussy without a care in the world. You could tell Riri was getting turned on as she started fidgeting in her seat. The sounds of your gushing pussy being music to her ears. Your hips bucked uncontrollably as you felt yourself come closer to your release. You tugged at the restraints as Shuri slipped a finger past your lips. Her fingertips grazed your walls as you clenched down around her digits with your bottom lip between your teeth. "That's my girl." Her lips found your sensitive bud once more as she sped up the pace, curling her fingers to rub against the spot that made you see stars. "Fuck! Shuri just like that. Don't stop!" You shouted as you shut your eyes tight letting your orgasm surge through you. She held you down with her hand flat on your stomach as you twitched and pulled at the fabric binding your wrists. "I got you princess. Give it all to me." Riri sat anxious across from you while biting her nails as she watched you come undone underneath the other woman. The way your face contorted in pleasure as Shuri slurped up every drop that rolled down your thighs. The wakandan pulled away slightly to kiss your inner thigh while rubbing small circles into your skin, giving you some time to calm down. Riri caught Shuri's gaze as a small smirk appeared on the woman's lips. "Come over here baby." Riri arched her brow before standing up and making her way over to the bed as Shuri stood to her full height. She went up behind Riri, wrapping her arms around her waist. By now it had started to rain and the clouds darkened the room a little.

"What do you think? Y/N and I make our own little movie and you should be our camera woman for the night. Might as well since you're just watching. Isn't that right?" Riri let her eyes flutter closed as Shuri left wet kisses along her neck and shoulder. You laid there to catch your breath watching them, getting wetter by the second. Shuri slipped her phone in Riri's hands, resting her chin on her shoulder. You grinned at the two while biting your lip as Riri zoomed in on your dazed expression, trying to ignore the throbbing between her legs. She didn't even notice Shuri had pulled away and replaced her boxers with a strap. A new one at that. "Aye be careful with that." Riri was more concerned about the size hurting you than how wild Shuri can get. "Don't worry, she can handle it." Her hand slipped in your curls and you groaned at the feeling of her fingertips running over your scalp. The feeling was short lived as she pulled your head back to look you in the eyes. "Can't you Y/N?" With a soft hum Riri rolled her eyes before moving to get a better angle as the tip pushed at your entrance. Suddenly Shuri pulled away while rubbing her chin. "Go in front of the bed." Riri frowned but moved around the bed as Shuri untied the fabric from the headboard. "You keep this in place." You were now on your knees with your ass up in the air. Riri held onto the end of the blindfold, keeping your arms stretched out in front of you. You moaned as you felt your pussy begin to stretch out. Shuri slowly pushed into you while holding onto your waist. "See? She can take it. All of it." She buried her strap to the hilt as a shudder went down her spine. Shuri loved the way you invited her in. Regardless of how big it was. "Oh fuck! It's so big!" You shouted with your face in the covers. "That's it." She pulled out to the tip before sliding back into you. Seeing there was little to no resistance she picked up the pace. You moaned out as the sound of skin against skin drowned out the raindrops hitting the window.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck it feels so good." You tugged at the blindfold as Shuri's thrusts never let up. She pounded into you as your eyes never broke from Riri's lustful gaze. "Tell her how bad you want to cum usana." You opened your mouth to speak but no words formed as only sinful sounds emitted from you. You couldn't keep your head up and let your cheek hit the sheets bundled under you. "Seems she needs a little encouragement. Don't you think Riri?" Shuri spoke out with heavy breaths in between as she fucked you closer to your orgasm. Her hand slipped around your throat, pulling hard enough to bring your body against hers. Putting your front on display for Riri to record. Your breasts bounced as Shuri's thrusts got sloppy. Her own release is nearing. You can feel it by the way she fucks you. "You gonna cum for the camera ma? Looking so fucking good for me." Shuri groaned watching the dildo disappear inside you. "I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna fucking cum." Shuri leaned back to get a better angle and you felt her hitting the perfect spot as he hips slammed against the curves of your ass. "That's right cum on that dick." You screamed out as your walls clenched around her strap. "Oh shit! Fuck! I'm cumming." She fucked you through your orgasm, holding you by the arms and smirked at the way you creamed all over her. That sent her over the edge and she buried her face into your shoulder, her own orgasm rushing through her body. You grabbed hold of her hand as she slowed down before wrapping her arms around your stomach. After a couple more slow strokes she pulled out and you fell against the bed. Riri zoomed in on your blessed out expression before smiling. "You good ma?" With a light nod you gave a thumbs up and she chuckled before stopping the video. "You did so well for us usana." Shuri muttered as she kissed your bare shoulder. "Maybe for you, I had to sit back and watch the whole time." You reached out and grabbed hold on Riri's thigh which sent a jolt up her spine. "I think she could go for one more." Riri stared at Shuri for confirmation before looking down at you. You bit your bottom lip as you tapped your face a couple of times indicating where you wanted her. She started undoing her pants and Shuri laughed. "I hope yall know I'm keeping this video."

#poc reader #princess shuri #shuri black panther #shuri #shuri udaku #queen shuri #shuri fanfiction #shuri imagine #shuri x reader #riri williams x reader #shuri x riri #riri williams #riri williams smut #shuriri #riri williams x you #shuri smut #ghostface!shuriri

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weebsinstash · 10 months

Note

Wouldn't it be funny if reader is aware abt the spiderverse being yandere and stuff but still continues to act blissfully unaware and when they found abt the youtwo situation and stuff they used that to their advantage to basically escape the obsessive grasps the yandere spiderverse has. and basically readers all giddy abt it

YouTwo: wow, it sure would be a shame if I started stealing all of this excessive attention you seem to get. I wonder if all your little spider society friends would even be able to tell :)

You: oh my sweet summer child. Oh my little tiny baby still on its mother's milk. Oh my naive ignorant little newborn

You: y'all can fucking HAVE THEM, my guy

You: once I thought I was being nice by offering Miguel some of the extra snacks I was eating while I was delivering a message in-person from another Spiderman and I got close enough that I accidentally saw the holograms he was looking at and this man had been watching another dimension where we were having our wedding

You: Pavitr who has never done anything wrong in his life ever once invited me to a family member's wedding and I was stupid enough to say yes because then I had him and his girlfriend babbling in my ear while I got literal actual personally customized henna, do you have any idea how time consuming and intricate and personal henna is, I felt like I was naked. Beautiful wedding, literally did not have privacy almost that entire day

You: the other week Peter B somehow got the access code from Miguel to have the security clearance to broadcast across the Spider Society and I was in the middle of the cafeteria when literally everyone in the room had their watches light up with his face, "hey I can't find them myself so if anyone sees my other kid let them know how cool they are and how much I love them and how Uncle Pete misses em 🥰" and to this day I can't enter the food court without a literal army of Peter Parkers obnoxiously teasing me, "We LoOOoOooOooVE YoU SwEEtiE"

You: Jess got overwhelmed with the pregnancy hormones once and she asked me how my day was going and I made the mistake of being honest and said I was a little sad and she burst into tears begging me to move into the spare bedroom of her house and asking when I ate last and insisted I join her and her husband for "a family dinner"

You: that Morales kid was feeling kind of depressed so I gave him my perspective on adulthood and how sometimes the only expectations you need to meet are your own dreams for yourself and i told him all these good qualities i saw in him to cheer him up, and now he and Gwen Stacy keep showing up unannounced in my universe to hang out. Do you know how hard it is to avoid someone who can turn invisible. My knees crack when I stand up from sitting down for too long, I can't outrun two parkouring teenagers!

You: the other day i had an earbud fall into the back of my hoodie so I just took it off and shook it out trying to find it and like three different goobers fell out and I pick one of them up and it literally looks like a piece of plastic and I must've accidentally hit something because it said "beep boop boop" in an IRL person's voice and I'm like "hello???" And someone replies "YEAH, LEGO SPIDERMAN HERE"

#yandere spiderverse #but nah ive thought of you letting youtwo take over cause youre like ykw fuck these fuck bitches #yandere stuff #sinprompts

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nsharks · 1 year

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part two —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 4k tags: death. blood. zombies of course. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: let me establish some things/characters/relationships ya know.

You dream of that house in Norbury. The one you grew up in. Your mother calls you for lunch. You are caked in dirt, fingers just leaving the soil where they’d searched for bugs and worms. Your sister watches in disgust but now she is pulling your arm.

You follow her, bare feet padding the wood floors. The lunch is on the table - pine needles on a porcelain plate. An empty glass which should be filled with juice. Your stomach howls. You look up to ask your mother for something else.

Right before your eyes, she melts into something grey. Maggots bleed from the corners of her eyes. The irises turn white, staring down at you with hunger even stronger than your own.

“Mom?”

Across the table, your sister melts away, too. Her body is mangled to the point that it tumbles to the kitchen floor.

You wake up just as your mother’s decomposed hands grab your shoulders and her mouth finds the crook of your neck.

Your eyes peel open to find darkness.

Not the house in Norbury, just a sheet of black that covers the cold forest. This has become your new home, and likely, your soon-tomb.

You wipe your eyes.

You lean back against the tree which you have managed to hoist yourself in. Sleep finds you again, but this time, the nightmare arrives when you wake up, once more in the form of a rotten smell and hissed groans.

These ones are real.

By the time you awake at dawn, your joints ache. You barely remember how you got up here, or how you got back up after the man and his daughter left. You sat there next to the broken bow for minutes, hours. Then, something moved you. The last piece of your humanness. It stood you up, forced you to find some pine needles to swallow down since meat was now out of the question, and brought you to this tree branch before the night settled.

The sunrise over the white forest is pretty, you think.

But you hear something. Smell something.

You look down and what your eyes find beneath the tree branch is not pretty in the slightest.

"Are you serious?" your numb lips whisper, now fully awake.

Only a few meters below you stand three Greys.

They must have wandered near the tree during the night, catching a waft of your smell from up above. Their tattered heads are tipped back, pale eyes pointed at you. Mindlessly, their arms squabble up towards the branch. But it's too high for them to reach. One of them, once a young woman your own age, pathetically claws at the tree trunk.

The thing with Greys is that they are terrible climbers. That is something they all share because their infected brains cannot muster enough strategy for it. What they don’t share is how long they have been decomposing, and what kind of physique they started out with. For instance, a Grey with a child's body will be less of a threat than one who was once a thick-boned man. Similarly, a Grey who was recently infected will have more muscle mass than one who has been rotting for years.

If you had your bow, you would be fine. But Skull-Face took this from you. Bitterly, you understand why. Who was he to trust that you wouldn't point it at them the moment they turned their backs?

But now there is no way to kill them.

You will have to figure out something else.

You shift on the branch to get a better look.

One looks bigger than the others. It still has some hair left. The others only have exposed skulls and a few clumps jutting out that resemble black worms. The female clawing the tree looks pretty weak and slow. You could probably outrun her. But even if you are faster, the Greys do not tire. They don't have the need for rest that you do, and even after a night's sleep and some pine needles, you are beyond exhausted.

Fuck. He really should have just killed you.

You want to cry. If you were hydrated, you would.

But instead, you carefully stand up on the branch, hugging the trunk to keep your feet steady. You scan the area. You didn’t make it very far from the pond the man and girl found you near.

What direction did they leave in?

You think you remember but even if you run that way, what sort of protection will you find?

You don’t know, but it seems like the best bet you have. Desperation seals this plan in your brain. First, you need a head start, so without much to lose, you shrug off your coat and wait until the three are close together before dropping it over their heads. It’s enough to disorient them, even for a moment, so you can slip down from the branch, scraping your knees at the bottom, and take off.

The cold bites but the adrenaline warms your muscles. Your body feels heavy despite being so thin, but something drives it. Your legs carry you towards the pond and past it.

But it is not long before they trail behind you with grunts and clambered, uneven footsteps. You don’t need to look over your shoulder to know that the biggest one is running the fastest. By the sound, there is likely only a ten-meter gap between you and him, living and undead.

It must only be a few minutes before your stamina nose-dives. So little fuel.

They’re gaining on you.

You whirl past trees and snow.

A camp.

A high fence around a small cabin.

The sight is enough to push you forward, energy spent but your instinct driving you. It must be them. You run and run, but then you stop, a gasp slicing through your lungs when your feet just barely stop in front of a deep trench. It is dug around the perimeter of the camp, wide enough to require a jump.

There is no time to think. In an instant, you decide you'd rather be killed by his knife than turned Grey. Bitten.

So you leap across it.

Your boots just barely land on the other side.

You fall from the impact and there is a sudden intense pain as something sharp under the snow pierces your torso and causes your eyes to roll back, fingertips clawing at the frost. A ringing in your ears.

You make out a flurry of sounds: the pathetic moans as the Greys fall in the pit behind you, someone's heavy footsteps crunching the ground, and then a gritted-out “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

Then, blackness.

You wake up to the touch of rough fingertips.

"Should be enough. Hand me the knife, Blue."

Eyelids heavy, you see log-stacked walls that form a small living room. Your body lays on what you believe to be a sofa, the sprung cushions so different than the hard surfaces you’ve slept on for years now. Your coat - Paul's old coat - is long gone. You are left with only your soiled shirt, the fabric hiked up just below your breast.

Seconds later, you are aware of the two other people in the room. A girl with mouse-brown hair stands over your head. She hands something to the behemoth sitting on the stool, who is leaning over to inspect your midriff.

Knife.

He will finally put an end to it all. He should have done so the first time. You clamp your eyes shut and inhale, ready for it again, but the stab to your gut never comes. Instead, a soft hand brushes your forehead and you hear the sound of his knife cut something.

"Hey, it's okay. He just finished the stitches."

"What?" you mouth.

"You may or may not have fallen on one of our caltrops," the girl says apologetically with a scrunch of her nose.

Confused, your head shifts against the cushion to look down. You see it now. The wound. Black sutures unevenly close it up, but still, some blood seeps.

“Don't get comfortable. Fixed it for you, but tomorrow you're out." He shakes his head as he speaks in a growl under his breath. "You have some goddamn nerve, you know. Leading those fucks over here."

"I— I had no other option," you croak, but just these few words take so much energy to push through your teeth, and you lean your head back.

"She made a smart choice," the girl comments quietly. Blue. She nudges her father's shoulder and clears her throat. “Come on, Ghost. Maybe she could—"

"No."

A petulant sigh blows up a piece of her hair. She looks back at you and in your half-aware state, her youthful eyes remind you of your long-dead nephew.

You are not awake for even a minute longer before your eyelids flutter shut again.

Blackness.

The next time you awaken they are sitting at a table in the corner of the room. You lift yourself against the couch with a wince, your hand instantly holding your torso. Your shirt has been tugged back down over the wound, and your brain is a bit more aware than before. You look around again, taking in more of this new environment.

When was the last time you’d been inside a house?

It's a modest cabin, but far homier than the tents of your old camp. There is a shorn rug on the floor and a small stack of board games: Scrabble, Monopoly, Battleship. Against the wall is a steel fireplace, the ash inside suggesting it was recently used. A lamp on the table casts a soft, yellow glow. You notice the outlines of windows that have been boarded up with planks of pine.

When your eyes finally land on the food they are eating at the table, your stomach hisses.

Ghost has his mask inched up so he can chew on a piece of meat. Blue sits on her knees in the chair, scooping her fingers in a jar of peanut butter. Some of it coats the corners of her mouth. He notices and reaches over to swipe a thumb against her lips.

“Thanks,” she mumbles. She swallows a mouthful as her eyes curiously drift across the room. They widen when she sees that you are not only awake but trying to sit up.

“Ghost. She’s awake again.”

His response: wordlessly nudging a small plate and mug in front of the free chair at the table.

Warily, you swing your feet down, nostrils flaring to rake in the smell of food rather than dead flesh this time. Standing is a difficult task, one that causes the muscles around your wound to spasm. But hunger is stronger than your pain. Desperate. Starved. You don’t have it in you to question the situation, not yet.

The small plate truly is small; it looks like he has given you pitiful scraps of things they didn’t want. Stale crackers. The hard pieces of dried meat from an animal you aren’t sure of. But it’s more than you have had in a week. With just how fast you inhale it, there is no time to wipe the crumbs from your lips.

Blue is staring wide-eyed when you are done.

You gulp down the mug of water.

“Shit balls. You really were hungry.”

Ghost pulls his mask back over a stubbled jaw and lets out an irritated groan. “I told you to stop with that. What are you even sayin’?”

“And I told you—“ she shoots him a look, tongue poking out. You sit there with your chest rising and falling slowly, each breath requiring more energy than you have. “ —that I like to be creative with it.”

They are talking to each other as if you are not even there.

“There is no being creative with it. If you’re gonna swear, do it right, yeah?”

A few more bickers. One voice low and gravelly. A cockney accent. The other voice, soft and pettish. But you don’t care to listen. Rather, your eyes stare at your empty plate and you press the tip of your thumb to the crumbs and lick them off like a scrounging rodent.

The moment Blue is done with the peanut butter, a big boot under the table taps the leg of her chair.

“Time for bed, kid?”

“Dad—”

“Go on.”

He juts his chin in the direction of a small hallway where you can make out the shape of a few doors in the dim light. One must be her room because, with a sigh, she stands from the table and heads towards it, leaving you alone with him.

He is a man who threatened to kill you, and now a man who has stitched you up and fed you.

Tomorrow you’re out.

Sucking in a breath, you look up at him. “What is your game?”

He narrows his eyes. “That how you say thank you?”

“Thank you for what?” your voice rattles through fragile bones. “Keeping me alive for one more day? You should have left me there to bleed out.”

“I should have.”

“So why didn’t you? Are you fucking evil or what?” Your teeth tighten and the muscles of your face clench. “I have nothing. No one. You know I won’t survive out there. What was the point of this— “ you gesture to the spot where your wound lies under the shirt, then to the plate in front of you, “—and the food? There is no good reason to, right?”

“There is no good reason,” he repeats in a murmur. "Maybe I jus’ pity you. You look like you’re one of ‘em already.”

He leans back in the chair as his eyes drag over you. He is covered head-to-toe. Wearing a long-sleeve black shirt and jeans. The mask is just as intimidating as before, a plastic skull sewed crudely to the black fabric and two faded, white lines painted down the chin of it.

Where you’d been terrified of the sight the first time, you are now angered. Your breath quickens through sore lungs.

“I don’t want your pity. I want you to stop being a coward and fucking kill me already,” you say, waving around a bony hand, “...or fucking help me. Make up your mind, but don’t send me out there again to suffer.”

You continue, quieter, wiping your wet nose.

“You can do it now,” a curl at your lips. “She’s not here to stop you.”

Dark eyes flicker away and stare dully at the cabin wall. He is boarded up like the windows. There is nothing to see except for the growing tension in the muscles under his clothes and the way his hands roll up.

The silence is dizzying. It could be fatal.

But finally, he looks back at you.

He pulls his broad shoulders into an intimidating posture before offering his decision in a growl.

“You will sleep outside," and your heartbeat staggers, "You won’t have any of our medicine. You will get food for yourself once that shit is healed. And—“ his voice lowers into something that makes your frail body shiver, his hand moving to grip the table. “—if you lay a finger on her, your neck will be the next thing I break. Understood?”

Your lips part. They close.

Your eyes flutter shut and you lean back in the chair. With a gargled gasp, you nod.

“Understood.”

Something soft touches your foot that first morning.

It gently rouses you.

"Hey, I heard you're a part of the team now."

A head pokes into the small shed you've been banished to and sunlight filters in. Groaning, you shift against the dusted floorboards. Your body only fits with its knees bent. Ghost gave you a thick blanket to sleep with, but nothing to lay on. Still, this shed is within their fortification.

You are still alive.

Somehow.

The game of survival has spat you out here, at the camp of a father and daughter. The memory of your first encounter takes the form of a phantom welt on your throat. Could you trust that he wouldn’t change his mind?

It’s not like you have a choice.

"Huh?" is all you can say, looking up at the child who you suspect had great influence on the moments leading you here.

"You know... the team."

Blue smiles down at you. The soft touch to your foot ends up moving right by your cheek. A puffy tail tickles the skin.

"What is—?"

"This is Grim," she says cheerily, and reaches down to pick up what you now see is a chocolate rabbit. "He's a good friend of mine."

"You have a pet?" you ask, rubbing your eyes in surprise. The pain in your torso has faded just a bit. Still, your body feels like a corpse. You sit up and the blanket falls to your waist. You miss the couch.

"Not a pet, a friend," she says. "Come on. Get up."

Painfully, you follow her out of the shed. Now that you are not running away from Greys, you can observe their camp better. It is... impressive. Not only is there the fence and trench outside, but within it is more than you ever had at your old camp. Covered in the snow lays a wood planter, which you assume they use to grow crops in the other seasons. Just next to the house is a large wooden hutch housing more rabbits than you have seen in a lifetime.

Blue leads you there, plants a kiss on the top of Grim's head, and slips him back in.

"You have a lot of friends.”

“They aren’t all my friends,” she says. “Only Grim. The others are food.”

Rabbits for food? It's brilliant. They breed like crazy. Having this food supply at their fingertips means they must not hunt as often as you and Paul had to— which means, fewer encounters with the threats outside.

Ghost is smart.

The mere setup of this place is evidence of how well he understands their needs. And with how well-fed Blue appears, they have not yet struggled the way you have.

But their food won’t be for you much longer. With your lack of a bow, you wonder how you’re meant to hunt.

Instead of worrying about it yet, you ask Blue, “Where is your dad?”

“Huh? Oh, Ghost is cleaning up your mess from yesterday.” She gives a shrug. “And he’s shoveling the trench. Doesn’t really work if there’s snow in there.”

“Why do you call him Ghost?”

You take a good look at her.

Her fair skin covers soft cheekbones, the skin of her rosy lips has been chewed a bit at the corner, and her eyes are truly the opposite of his: full and bright. She thinks the question over for a long moment as if it is something she’s never had to prepare an answer for.

Maybe, there has just never been anyone around to ask.

“He used to play outside with me,” she finally says. “He was in the military, you know? And when he was home, we would play this survival game. Pretend to shoot each other. Climb the trees. He had his codename, so I had to have mine.”

Military. That makes sense.

She continues, eyes flickering down to the herd of rabbits as her fingers brush thoughtlessly over the edge of the hatch.

“When things happened, I just remember him telling me that it was like we were playing survival again, except - you know - not a game this time,” her brows furrow, then she shrugs, “He’s called me by my codename ever since and I usually call him by his. Sometimes Dad fits better.”

“So," you say, "what is your real name, then?”

“I’d tell you," she gives a smile that reaches her blue eyes, "...but then I’d have to kill you.”

It is then you notice that Blue carries two knives on her. One strapped to her ankle, and the other tucked in the belt of her trousers.

Breakfast consists of what you now realize is rabbit. Again, your plate is much smaller than theirs. Ghost feeds you like one would feed a stray dog. You thought it might be awkward, sitting at the table with them. Part of the team. Except, not really. You feel more like a pest.

It's not really awkward apart from the fact that Ghost doesn't spare you even a glance. Blue's curiosity fills the space. She asks for your name. She wonders where you came from and why you were alone, her head tilted and her elbows leaning on the table. You explain your story quietly, shifting your gaze to her dad, and do your best to leave out the gritty parts. She listens, and offers a few gentle "sorry's".

"I can't imagine having a sister," she says when you are done. "And I also can't imagine having to watch her die like that."

Ghost stares at her.

You respond anyway, "I never imagined it, either."

After eating, Ghost leaves to fetch the same blanket he'd given you for sleep. Finally, he looks at you. Dark eyes that have the smallest flicker of disgust as they travel over you, causing your throat to dry.

"You smell like shit. Come on."

You learn that bathing for Ghost and Blue means using a small rag and soap made from resin. The cabin has a bathroom, but there is no running water, so instead, there is a bucket of some collected from a nearby creek. Ghost hovers near the bathroom door for a moment, before shaking his head and leaving you.

The cold water stings. Ghost was blunt but not wrong. You smelled like rot. You drag the rag over your skin and the valleys of your ribs, disgusted by what you see, and have a hard time remembering what your body once looked like. Your wound is still puffy against the stitches. Red, screaming. The small, scratched mirror above the sink shows you a ghastly face. You look away. You use the blanket to dry yourself.

Outside, you find Ghost and Blue playing tic-tac-toe in the snow. It's something you used to do with your nephew, only it was usually one-sided because he was always too withdrawn to care. Blue, on the other hand, narrows her eyes in fierce competition and Ghost sits on a tree stump, his elbows on his knees.

“How come you always get to start, huh?”

“Because,” she sings, drawn out, “Youngest goes first.”

“Doesn’t sound very fair.”

“Life isn’t fair. Remember, Ghost?”

“Jesus, kid. Not even a teenager and you’re already usin’ my words against me.”

"Don't say them if you don't want me using them."

"Just go, it's your turn."

This is how those first few days go.

It is mundane. Games, scattered meals, and walks to the creek for water. You don't join them. Ghost ignores you for the most part except to silently offer bits of food and checks to your wound. His rough fingertips never soften, not for you. He finds your old coat on the second day and gives it back with a cold: M’not giving you another if you lose it. It still smells like Greys.

You feel like an intruder, sticking to your shed most of the time. Blue pokes and prods at you curiously. It is as if she doesn’t know how much she is allowed to interact.

On the fourth morning, she greets you again with a soft wake-up call from Grim and, to your relief, an extra piece of meat that she slips into your palm while whispering: Don’t tell Ghost, okay?

And it's on this day, after breakfast, that the two of them decide to leave the camp to go hunting. Ghost is a big guy. Rabbits alone can't keep up the thick sinew of him.

"You're comin' with us," he tells you, wearing a thick SAS jacket for the occasion.

You almost choke. "What?"

"Your stitches are lookin' fine and you're walking alright." His voice is flat, with an edge to it that teeters towards irritation. "You can get your own damn food."

"I don't have anything to hunt with," you remind him.

He tucks Blue's hair behind her ear before asking her to wait outside.

Then, he disappears into a room down the hall, coming back a moment later with a wooden bow in one hand and a military-grade knife in the other. On his back is a rifle, and in a sheath on his tac pants is a handgun.

He sticks the bow in your hand, then the knife in the other. With wide eyes, you look over the carved wood. It is stronger than your old one, whittled down smooth from oak. Along the curve of it, Blue is etched in all capitals.

"She doesn't use it much," he says, before suddenly, the metal tip of his handgun presses into your torso - the wounded side - and he loops his fingers around the back of your neck, pulling you close.

"Don't even think of trying anything," Ghost growls this warning in your ear, digging the end of his gun hard enough to make you whimper as your healing wound cries out. "Do you hear me?"

"I hear you. I won't."

taglist:

@cool-0-n @savagemistresss @morganvoorhees @dinsverdika @cated18 @lolszass @jeswiii @all-good-things-have-an-ending @alternatealt @uvoiid @underatreedrinkingtea @ramadiiiisme @crissteetee67 @lexi-zsy09

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #ghost #zombie apocolypse au #tw blood #tw death #tw gore

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azulas-lightning-bolt · 1 month

Text

sooo I’m insane about mako right. well. well ho hum well do you remember the other ball of repressed rage firebending member of team avatar.

yeah so imagine the timeline gets switched up a bit. aang (sorry aang ily but it’s for the plot) dies a lot earlier so the gaang is all in their early thirties late twenties when the krew start to be born. none of the major plot events are going to really change (gaang will be atla white lotus age by canon, almost 60s) and rc has for the most part been established.

boom around ten-fifteen years later they’re all around fourties. the krew is in the ten-fifteen y/o age range—korra’s training in the compound, asami is being groomed into a businessgirl, but yk what that means for my favorite bending brothers? the streets.

the gaang minus aang are still active and about (sokka is alive Because) so it’s zuko’s turn to help toph run the underbelly of rc. she always gripes that she’s doing fine in her old age (she’s like,, 38) and they can just leave her alone with the damned city to rot (she mostly hates her job. only reason she sticks with it is because it’s a sort of backwards way to take care of su and lin*. if the city streets are safe, there’s no reason not to let them off free) but of course the gaang has a rotation anyway. they try to stay sort of in contact after ending a hundred year war together because that’s kind of big.

*by the way sokka is not their dad. they were made in a terrarium because toph Built kids out of boredom and aang gave them bending as a joke and they just. grew. became alive. idk it seems more in character than toph having kids the normal way.

so anyway zuko is out patrolling. he’s on gang-spotting duty, so basically toph has the aging fire lord running around after guys who graffiti gang signs on walls and Politely Asking where their hideout is. today he happens to stumble upon an inter-gang scuffle. it’s pretty typical, and he’s moving to stop it when—boom, lightning and screaming. now, it was mostly thanks to his (and a reformed azula, because she will be getting in here somehow) efforts that lightningbending masters took hold and spread the subbending more commonly, but it’s still not typical to see it in poorer areas. yet there’s one person with a gang rumored to have it—you guessed it, zolt!

so zuko goes chasing after the source of the lightning, thinking toph is gonna be so happy she won’t punch him for a week and keep her griping to a minimum once he brings in one of the biggest thorns on her side.

but it’s not zolt he’s chasing. it’s twelve year old mako, scared shitless that the firelord is chasing him down and nowhere near fast enough to outrun him or hide. none of zolt’s cronies are dumb enough to try and bail him, he knows, but he also doesn’t want to leave bolin waiting on a dead brother.

zuko catches him, baffled that ‘zolt’ is so small. mako says nasty shit (because in best impression of 12 y/o mako voice : royalty. You are the 1% that makes Us like this) trying to wriggle free, revealing himself as definitely not zolt.

Zuko stares at this grimy, angry little twelve year old with old, peeling burn scars (I’ll make a post soon about the scars he definitely has from like,, everything) and fresher lightning scars and is like,, hmm. tiny angry firebending child with scars and likely insurmountable levels of trauma=me as a child who just needed some guidance and turned out fine (not really but it’s the thought that counts)

and then he uses his brain really hard and decides he will give tiny angry firebending child with scars and likely insurmountable levels of trauma guidance. so mako gets picked up by the scruff and is dragged, kicking and screaming, by the firelord to the police station.

toph hears a child shrieking and is immediately like no. get it away. out of my police station NOW. and mako is like YES get me out of her police station NOW. and they have a moment of commiserating mako’s presence in the police station together.

but then zuko is like what if we gave him Guidance. toph says bring that bullshit to katara and gtfo. cue lin and su, annoyed teenagers/young adults around canon krew’s ages for highest potential siblingism. btw the beifong relationships are much better in this. su is immediately like. can we keep him mom please. lin agrees with toph and wants it OUT she just started working here and tenzin’s yapping about kids does not need to follow her to the bullpen.

mako is put into police custody (su drags him around with her and watches him overnight). he wheedles her into finding bolin and becomes much more agreeable when he has his brother to hold in a death grip. when asked to separate, he threatens multiple creative methods of murder.

this got really out of hand but the idea is that katara and sokka side with zuko and they all gang up on toph, who somehow caves and agrees to let zuko give Guidance to tiny angry firebending child with scars and likely insurmountable levels of trauma. she forces bolin on suyin but she doesn’t mind too much, shoving metalbending down his throat.

korra meets them earlier on, finally having some friends her age! they’re all really really weird though so none of them are well adjusted when korra finally runs away to rc (they follow her everywhere). how terrible. but mako and bolin are like 5000x stronger without even trying and they also have money.

all three teenage freaks meet asami (who is immediately endeared by their weird asses), shit goes down, but this time featuring nebulously-father zuko, favorite person-without-title-but-probably-scary-aunt azula definitely mom-adjacent katara, weirduncle sokka, toph who goes to the swamp whenever she wants because lin is basically chief of police already and big sisters lin, su, kya and izumi. also featuring cousin-ish iroh II and long distance/reluctant (respectively) older brothers bumi and tenzin.

I believe both mako and bolin, if possible, would be considerably more batshit insane considering who they were raised by, but also more calculated on mako’s part because azula absolutely got her time in with him. I think katara would’ve taught them, for an absolute worst case scenario, how to handle bloodbending, so they would’ve wiped amon. I think mako, considering azula, definitely wanted the kill with that lightning on amon but, considering azula, knew it would only turn him into a martyr for the equalists to rally behind without exposing him first.

also puppy love makorra in the compound. then korrasami in rc because pretty girl with a bike but then ‘sorry I kind of have a crush on your childhood best friend korra but I’m still in love with you’ ‘WOAH sick really? same lol.’ ‘we should all kiss.’ then makorrasami!!!!

so yeah I totally lost my train of thought but that’s like. generally it(?)

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willowmaidsworld · 1 month

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Good Omens s3 clue

I realised I never posted this, although I made it ages ago! So here y'all go!

This is going to be long, and I hope it will make sense. Please bear with me to the end, I will eventually get to the Judgement Day, Armageddon, Death (and four horsemen of Apocalypse) and I will mention goats.

I noticed this tiny clue when watching s2ep3. Aziraphale drives to Edinburgh and the Bentley plays classical music. But not just any classical music – it’s Danse Macabre by Camill Saint-Saëns.

I am a musician and I've played this piece in the past, so I knew there was a lot of symbolism to uncover. And that thing is deeper than I thought. I will be speaking about some music theory, but I will try to make it as understandable as possible.

I think it would be best, if you listened to Danse Macabre: https://youtu.be/…zrJ

I would like to speak once more about the scene in which Danse macabre appears. Aziraphale is driving to Edinburgh in now a yellow Bentley, and he even has his "car sweets". He is quite satisfied. And he plays this, certainly dark-themed, music. It is a major contrast.

Danse Macabre, "the dance of death" is a memento mori. Memento mori is a theme we see in art, and it originated in medieval times as reaction to the plague. It should remind us of our own mortality. “Memento mori” literary translates as "remember death". And mark my words, do remember death!

The composition uses tritones, a special kind of a music interval. (Interval is the tonal distance between two tones, you can play the tones together and/or separate.) Tritone is seemingly dissonant because it uses seemingly inharmonious tones. (You can hear tritones just at the beginning, the violins play it.) Because of its dissonance it was called "the devil in music" and was considered forbidden and associated with Hell/demons/death.

Since the music piece and the poem is based on the theme of Memento mori, I had to look into it as well. Turns out Danse Macabre was inspired by a poem by Henry Cazalis. Here is the poem: https://oxfordsong.org/…bre Memento mori doesn't only remind us of death and our mortality, it also reminds us, that everyone's equal in death. Henry Cazalis, the poet, writes: Long live death and equality! The poem is called, of course, Danse Macabre, but I found that it is also called Égalité - Fraternité (when reading stuff about it in French). This is a reference to the French revolution motto: Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité (Liberty, Equality, Brotherhood), but Liberty is missing. Is there then no Liberty in death and we are all doomed to obey someone's will, The Ineffable plan? (Good Omens book and season one also deals with topics of free will, look at Crowley and Anathema. She has been doing only the things her dead ancestor told her to do, she overcomes it in the end. I think it nicely illustrates the problematic of a free will. And Crowley values free will a lot.)

Memento mori says one thing - remember death, no one can outrun it. And there I would like to get back to season 1, because who else we meet here than Death itself.

Death is one of the Four Bikers/Riders/Horsemen of Apocalypse. But I always thought Death has a higher rank than the others. If you think of it, War, Pollution and Famine all lead to one thing- to Death. Why would you need all three then? Isn't Death qualified enough to do its job? Also, rewatch the scene where Adam and his friends battle them! War, Pollution and Famine all get destroyed by the flaming sword. But not Death- it spreads its wings and says (quote from the book): "You cannot destroy me. That would destroy the world." And later he adds that they are never far away. And he flies of. He isn't destroyed.

Death didn't appear in season two and I think people are starting to forget it, but Memento mori! Remember Death!

I would also like to remark that Neil Gaiman says the whole story is plotted out and that he has done this with Terry Pratchett. In every Discworld series book (the magnum opus of Sir Terry Pratchett), apart from two or three, there is the character of Death. And I think it would make sense that Death would appear in Good Omens as well, after all, it is also Pratchett's book. I think we might see Death returning in season three, because the Day of Wrath/Last Judgement/Armageddon is coming. And this music piece could serve as a literal memento mori - remember Death, it has not exited the scene yet. (A lot of Pratchett's humour is based on puns, and this seems like a joke/plot twist he would try to use. It's my personal opinion based on how I know his style from his books.)

And what's next? Armageddon is coming, the Day of Wrath is here! Both sides are pretty eager to do this ending-of-the-world thing and after all, it's what they have been trying to start from the begging of the show. It was delayed by Gabriel's "disappearance", but things are now getting into motion, I think.

But back to the Danse macabre, because it (surprise surprise!) has quite some things to do with the Judgement Day. In the middle of the composition Cammille Saint-Saëns uses a musical theme from a different work, a Gregorian chant called Deis irae ("Day of Wrath").

Here is a link to Wikipedia page about the chant, you can listen to it there. (I didn't find any recording on YouTube, only other musicians using the quite popular words of the chant and not the actual music.) https://en.m.wikipedia.org/…rae

About the chant itself. It is written from the point of view of a sinner/normal person, and it describes how the Last Judgement shall be. Before dealing with the themes of the chant itself, I would like to say, that Saint-Saëns has used the Deis irae in a major key. Allow me to do a quick music theory intermission.

You can play in two keys, major and minor. These are, if I oversimplify things, sets of notes with different intervals. The melody, played one tone at a time, can be used in both major and minor key. The melody isn't the thing that determines the key of the song, the tones played with it do. And depends on what tones you use, you either get major or minor. Major is (in western culture) associated with happiness and good things, while minor with sadness. (It's not always like that, but for the sake of understanding we are going to pretend it is.) Now, the Deis irae is usually written in the sad minor key. Saint-Saëns decided to use the happy major key with this depressing chant, once again creating contrast. I'm stumbling over contrasts more than usually, so this may be important. End of the intermission.

In the third and fourth strophe of Deis irae, it's described how the sound of a trumpet will sound everywhere and the Death will resurrect all dead creations to be brought to the Judge. (Death is back again and resurrecting, that sounds familiar, where have we seen that before?)

In the fifteenth strophe, the writer, a sinner, prays for this: Put me with the sheep and separate me from the goats, guide me to the right side! Goats again, there they are! This strophe of course references the chapter 25 in the Gospel of Matthew, the Separation of sheep and goats. Sheep go to the right and goats to the left. I think the side symbolism is pretty clear in Good Omens. Right is the righteous side and left is the sign of sin. And we also know how Crowley cares about the goats. There is also the Jewish tradition of scapegoat. Either way, goats are connected to Crowley, their symbolism of being “on the left side” is clear. This interesting bit can play part in Armageddon.

In the fifth strophe of Deis irae the Book, that is exactly and perfectly worded and that will judge all world, appears. And this book is no other than The Book of Life.

We know about Book of Life from the season 2, Micheal threatens to force "extreme sanctions" (erasing them form the Book) upon anyone who knows about Gabriel.

Enter a fan theory I read: Nor Heaven or Hell actually have the Book of Life, we never see it on screen. This was mentioned in a tumblr post, and I will probably never be able to dig it up from the depths of the internet, so remember this is not my theory. (Although I find it very interesting.) The post continues and remarks, that when Crowley in the first episode of the second season learns about the Book and the "extreme sanctions" from Beelzebub, he doesn't bat an eye. He is pretty calm and doesn't seem surprised. (He literary says: "That will teach them a lesson", man, we're talking about being wiped from the earth's surface completely!) The writer of the post thinks, this is because Crowley knows that Heaven doesn't have the book and he knows where it is. The writer claims, it was Crowley, who took it as a little souvenir before his Fall, and later has hidden it in Aziraphale's bookshop. ('Cause one single book will definitely stay hidden in all those piles of old books.)

I think this is really interesting because of Crowley’s reaction. He knows what Aziraphale is risking, and he loves that angel, yet he seems so calm. When the bookshop burned down in the fifth episode of season one and Crowley thought Aziraphale died, he went feral: he was angry and furious, and he was destroyed by the fact that he has lost Aziraphale. He mourns and gets drunk. Nothing of this happens in season two!

So, what are my thoughts on season three? It will get really dark and serious, the Armageddon is coming, after all. I think we will see Death return and the Book of Life will appear. The goats may not be used literally, like on screen, but I think we will get some metaphors.

In all of this, I tried to say one thing. All of the cards are laid out, we have all of the clues. It would be pretty cheap trick to use some ineffable "deus ex machina", that's not Gaiman's and Pratchett's style.

I think everything is now foreshadowed; we have been given all the information. We just haven't made the links in-between. Given the uproar the second season has caused, I think people are forgetting the first season a bit. But it must end with what it started with.

I think we should look at both seasons equally and try to pick up as much as we can, after all the third season will not be based solely on the season two...

We have all the clues, now it's Neil Gaiman who plays an ineffable game of his own devising, a poker that nobody has the rules for and the dealer, Neil himself, is smiling all the time. Ineffable, indeed. If you ask me, he's enjoying it bloody-well.

#good omens #neil gaiman #s3 speculation #good omens clues #good omens meta #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fandom #go 2 #david tennant #micheal sheen #good ineffable omens #ineffable fandom

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