Latest Posts by piscesatthesea - Page 6

riding plug!draken until you squirt on his chest..😵‍💫

content warning: mentions of weed, slight foot play, praise kink, squirting, overstim, infidelity, daddy’s used, pet names (pretty girl, princess)

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .* * . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° .* * . °•★|•°∵

your hands intertwining with his..holding you in place as you pounce up and down on his cock. Practically impaled on that big dick, letting every inch engulf you each time you propel. Your entire frame bending and folding back as you let out shrill cries. “Mmphm! Baby..” “It’s alright, keep going. You’re doing good..” his deep voice encouraging you as he lie underneath that curvy frame. Brown eyes glazed over in red as he siphons another whiff of the potent blunt he’s nursing and exhales the cloud of smoke into the air. Filling the atmosphere along with the scent of your sex, music and glowing lights scattered around your frames. You’re going as fast as you can..gasping for breath as his tip begins to press at your swollen g-spot..prodding away to increase your pleasure. Something your man could never do…but behind these four walls of his condo bedroom, you were Ken’s responsibility and he’d always make certain you left satisfied..even when you came more times than you could handle!

“ ‘S too much, daddy..so fucking big..” drawing out in a whispery cry but he knew you could handle it. After all, you had taken this dick many times before…you were just never on top. Besides, it had been a while since he’d been able to stretch that little pussy; conforming it to his own shape once more so you may have been struggling. Even so, he’d just laugh..slapping your ass with a heavy hand and keep encouraging you along.. “..but you can take it. My pretty girl always takes this dick so good, don’t you? Look at you creaming on it..you got this.” letting you work his cock the best way he saw fit. Until..

“Ahh! Fuck, fuck…Kenny!—I can’t..”

an ear shattering cry that only brought a smile to his face. Especially when he watched you reach for your extra sensitive clit and massage it until he felt stick juices rain down onto his chest, face and abs. A mess he’d lap up any day like an obedient dog. Smirking as tears streamed down your gorgeous face, Ken grasped at your trembling legs..bringing your ankle and foot that had gotten caught in the brunt to his lips to lick up the remnants before tugging you further towards his face to sit you atop it. “Daddy’s so proud of you, princess. Took all that and came so good for me..” massaging on your back to calm you down in the process; slightly scraping his nails into your pretty brown skin.

“Lemme give you a lil’ reward. C’mere..sit that ass on my face.”

[Gollum voice] they hates our pussy they hates it!!!!!!!

╰┈➤ ꒰🍓💌🌶 ┊Katsuki fucks like he can’t live w out you

『♡』 unprotected sex, spitting in mouth, cum eating, pussy licking, creampie, squirting, f!reader, reader has acrylics, biting

Katsuki fucks like he’s going to die without you. His hands shake despite his rough grip on your hips, yanking you down onto his cock. You gasp and moan every time he does it, fingers desperately searching for something to grip onto.

His mouth finds yours, tongue invading your mouth, like he’s hungry. It’s like he’s trying to devour you. He wants to take your soul and keep it. Make it his- make you his.

“Fuck fuck fuck-“ He gasps, face tingling and shaking with pleasure.

Your pussy is squelching, frothing at the base as slick juices run between the two of you. His thick hand reaches to your jaw, thumb pushing between the plush of your lips.

He pries your mouth open and spits, a long string of saliva drizzling into your mouth. Your head throws back against the mattress and you squeal. The coil in your stomach begins to grow taut.

Your hand reaches to blond hair, tugging him lower and you push his spit back into his mouth with your tongue. He groans into the kiss before pulling back.

Katsuki snatches a pillow from his side of the bed, hooking his arm under your knees to lift your ass. It’s placed under your lower back and he shoves your knees to your shoulders, folding you in half.

The angle makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. Thick, hot, heavy dick slamming into you with long strokes. He’s got to be in your stomach- you can feel it. The head pushes against the spongey spot inside you and squirt gushes from your pussy onto the both of you.

“Give it to me, y’feel like- oh-“ Katsuki babbles, watching you frantically nod your head.

Your pussy clenches around him and he’s on cloud nine. Acrylic nails dig into his shoulders, your teeth clamp down on the side of his throat. It’s raw- needy and desperate.

He can’t get enough of you. Stray hair sticks to the side of his face, sweat beads at the nape of his neck. His muscles are almost sore from fucking into your tight cunt. And he can’t stop.

He’s addicted. You begin rambling between moans and gasps, telling him filthy things. How he’s god, that you’re in love with him, no one’s gonna ever compare. And the coil in your tummy snaps.

Because he presses his cock against that special spot and stays. As much as it pains him he doesn’t move, waiting. And you explode, clear juice spurting from your pussy and all over his cock and pillow.

Your head throws back and you scream, tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes. He’s the closest to heaven he’ll ever be when you tell him to cum inside you.

And god, he does. His fingers dig into the plush of your thigh and he clamps his jaw, teeth marking your shoulder. His hips stutter and he slams his length into you. His entire body goes taught and he fills you. Katsuki starts whining at the thought of what he’s doing.

He can feel his cock head pressed against your cervix now. If there was a way, he’d go further. But for now his cum fills your pussy, drenching the inside of your walls. He pushes your hips up.

“Don’t let it out, fuck- don’t.” Katsuki rasps, fingers running through his hair to move it out of the way.

He laps at your pussy and you squirm in his grip. He’s slurping his own cum out of you like it’s his last meal on this god forsaken earth. Licking at the squirt on your ass, his white ropes, sucking at your clit. You buck up and fuck into his mouth a bit, trying to ride his tongue and escape all the same.

You cum like that, shaking and writhing. He leaves a smack to your ass and shoves his cock back into you, fucking the cum that’s left back in. He’s got one more in him.

You get flipped over to your chest, where his cock is bullying that same spot again. And you just can’t stop squirting. It’s everywhere. The bed is soaked, you’re soaked, he’s soaked.

He finishes in you again after you’re drooling all over the bed and desperately begging for it. He thinks about another round. He doesn’t know how long he can go without you.

Cause to him you put the stars in the sky and your pussy tastes better than water to a man dying of dehydration.

C R U C I F I C A T I O N

fearless 

satoru gojo x f!reader 

in which satoru makes you a little more fearless 

an: no one will stop me from writing satoru one shots based on taylor swift songs. no one. 

- 

You watch the manager get in her car, waving her goodbye as you sit on the bench. You pull out your phone, shooting fast text messages to all of your friends. It was time for this godforsaken night to be over. 

satoru. favor pls pls pls. 

beg :P 

i was on a date but i got stood up. i need a ride back home and shoko has night shift :0 

alsoooo….the restaurant closed and i’m kinda standing alone in the rain :( 

wtf. address. omw now. 

faster. im freezing to death as you speak. 

stfu. 

You can feel the rain coming down harder as time goes on and you huddle under the wall of the building. You’re trying to avoid getting wet or contracting hypothermia in the twenty minutes it will take Satoru to get here. 

The rain is…surprisingly refreshing. You can see puddles forming in the divots of the pavement, the glow of the sign overhead reflecting in them. The air smells clean, the streetlights making the entire road glow. If your date had actually showed up, it could make for a very special memory, like the Notebook or the Titanic. You could walk in the rain, hand in hand getting drenched and jumping in the puddles. 

See. This was your problem. You curse your sweet little romantic heart in moments like this. It would kill you one day. The real world is not like your romance novels. Or your favorite movies. Or the songs you love to listen to. 

In the real world, people don’t respond to your texts, they leave you stranded at a restaurant in the middle of a god damn monsoon. People don’t ask you on dates, or spill coffee on you in restaurants, or stay in love with you after years of dating. 

You shake your head, dispelling the thoughts from your mind. You’re not going to think about that tonight. 

You see a car pull into the parking lot and recognize it immediately. The black car has music blaring from it, the front bumper entirely gone. When you told Satoru he needed to get his driving under control since he’s driving two kids around all the time, all he said was “hot girls can’t park” in response. 

Satoru smacks the door shut, an umbrella in his hand. You watch him run over, noting that he was in a fancier outfit than usual. He pulls you under the umbrella, the two of you standing closely underneath it. 

“Well, there’s hardly a point for that now.” you say, looking up at the umbrella. 

“You could have checked the weather forecast and kept an umbrella with you.” 

“Victim blaming is a horrible look on you, Satoru Gojo.” 

He laughs, rolling his eyes as he secures his arm around you, leading you back to the car. 

“I’m glad to see your horrible night has done nothing to kill your attitude problem.” 

You ignore the comment, ducking into the car. It’s nice and toasty, the heater being cranked to the highest setting. Satoru runs to the other side, jumping into the car as well. He backs out of the parking lot, the two of you heading home. The two of you drive in silence for some time, the only sound being Satoru’s music blasting from the stereo. 

“So…you were on a date?” 

“Well, he didn’t come. So no, I wasn’t on a date.” 

“Shut up. You’re so annoying.” 

You smile, putting your hands under your thighs to warm them. 

“But actually. You’re dating again, Y/N?” 

“Trying to. Figured it was time to get back out there and all.” you whisper, the car enveloping in silence again. Your head mulls over the events of the night again. 

You got ready. You took out your nice curling iron, spent an hour on your makeup, and took out your best party dress. All to sit in the restaurant eating the free bread and eating dinner alone. 

“Sometimes, I think I expect too much. I’m too shy to love for real.” 

“What do you mean, Y/N?” 

“I don’t know. I’m not making any sense.” 

“Tell me what comes to mind. I’ll piece it together, yeah?” 

You nod, feeling the blood pulsating in your neck. 

“I just…want love so bad. The real kind. Like throwing pebbles at the window, stereo over your head, running to the airport, dancing in the rain, kind of love. But, I’d never really do that. I’m too scared to say I want that and too much of a coward to actually do it myself. I just wish someone would come around who wanted to do it all with me.” 

Satoru is quiet, his hands still placed on the steering wheel. He doesn’t respond, his jaw clenched. 

“Nevermind. I’m being silly, Satoru.” 

At the sound of your dismissance, he stops the car, pulling it over on the side of the road. You turn your head, confused on why he was stopping in front of a Walgreens that was already closed. 

“Satoru. Why are you stopping?” 

He looks over, his eyes peering into yours. His hand reaches for the stereo, turning the volume all the way up. You’re about to protest but he jumps out of the car before you can. He’s standing outside in the pouring rain, getting drenched. You scoot over to his seat, rolling the window down to talk to him. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you nearly scream, the sound of the rain and the wind obscenely loud. 

“Get out of the car, Y/N!” 

“It’s pouring. And my clothes will get wet.” 

He leans over the side of the car, his veiny hands resting on the window you opened. You look down, the water tracking into the side of his car. You look back up, his eyes boring into yours. You’re unable to place the look in his eyes. 

“Get out. I’m not asking. I want to dance with you, right here and right now.” 

He pushes off the car and extends his hand out, the rain pouring down on him. His hair is a matted mess, his shirt sticking to his torso. Fuck it. You peel off your jacket before joining him in the rain. 

The drops are cold against your bare shoulders, the curls you spent hours doing wilting in the rain. You put your hand in his and smile, the water dripping down both of your faces. He spins you around, holding you against his chest. 

He hands you his phone, placing his head on your shoulder to look at the screen with you. 

“Pick the song, peaches.” 

You turn your head, his lips a few inches from yours. 

“Peaches?” 

“Your shampoo. It smells like peaches.” 

You nod, turning back to scroll through his phone. You can feel his arms snaking around your waist, holding you tight against his back. You pick the first song you can find - Lover by Taylor Swift - and press the button. 

You can hear the opening notes start to blare out of his car. Satoru snatches his phone back from your fingers and spins you back around to face him. His hands readjust to interlock with yours. The two of you take turns spinning each other around and swaying in the rain, the song whistling in the back. Satoru tries to dip you and horribly fails, the two of you nearly tumbling onto the pavement. 

“Okay, maybe I’m not the best at dancing, but the thought is still there.” 

You laugh, your cheeks sore from smiling so hard. You slow down your swaying and press yourself against Satoru, digging your face into the crook of his neck. You feel like your heart is about to burst. You could die right here, in Satoru Gojo’s arms. You feel him slow down at the contact, his hands pressing you even closer into him. 

The two of you sway in silence, enveloped in each other’s embrace for what feels like a long time, before you break apart to actually go home. You move first, murmuring how Tsumiki and Megumi were probably worried sick. He responds that they could care less but heads back to the car nonetheless. 

You settle back into the car, the two of you tracking rain all over his seats. As he backs out, he interlocks his fingers with yours, squeezing your fingers twice before driving on. You lean your head against his shoulder, his minty smell overwhelming your nose. 

When he pulls into your driveway, the two of you get out, the rain finally stopping. There are puddles in the pavement as you make your way up the driveway, you and Satoru stomping in them on your way up. You can’t tell if you’re trembling from the cold or from his hand in yours. 

He stops at your porch, turning back over to face you. 

“Did you want to come in? I can find a change of clothes.” you whisper, breaking the silence. 

He shakes his head, grinning at you. 

“Kids are waiting at home with Nanami. I’m sure he’s already pissed at how long I’ve been gone.” 

You smile, nodding at his words. His hair is damp now, lying messily against the top of his forehead. You resist the urge to reach up and touch it. 

You’re not sure what it is, maybe something in the air but…you want to kiss him. You want to kiss Satoru Gojo, right here right now. Drenched from the rain, freezing cold, on your dingy ass porch. 

You ignore the shaking in your hands and swing your hands around his neck, your faces inches away from each other. You can see the hesitance in his eyes, the confusion at what you were doing. 

You close your eyes and lean forward, sincerely hoping he won’t reject you. And just like you wished, he didn’t. His plush lips press against yours, his hands snaking around you to pull you closer. He tastes sweet, the mint you were smelling earlier present on his lips. He breaks apart, pressing soft kisses all over your face - the side of your cheek, the bridge of your nose, the top of your forehead. 

You’re interrupted by Satoru’s phone ringing, Nanami’s contact flashing against the screen. Before Satoru can speak, you shake your head, telling him to head home. He presses another peck to your lips before leaving. 

You lock the door behind you, flicking on the lights as you head up to your room. As you peel out of your soaked dress, you hear a light knocking against your window. 

You look down to find Satoru in your lawn, throwing pebbles at your window. You swing it open, glaring down at him. 

“You’re going to break my window, idiot.”

“You wanted this!” 

“What are you doing?” 

“Dancing in the rain, pebbles on your window, stereo of your head, running to the airport kind of love. I’m the person who wants to do it with you!” 

You pause, taking in his words. You can feel your heart pounding against your chest, realizing what was happening. This idiot was going to be the death of you. 

You throw a shirt on quickly and run back down the stairs, to where Satoru was still standing outside. When you reach him, you grab him by the end of his collar, pulling him down to kiss him again. He freezes at the contact at first before smiling against your mouth and returning your affections. 

The two of you break apart, again, both of you laughing. He rests his forehead against yours, smiling down at you. 

“God.” 

“What, Satoru?” 

“For someone who is supposedly a coward, you’re feeling bold today.” 

You pause. 

“It’s you. You make me fearless.” 

You feel him take your face into his hands, his eyes filled with warmth as he looks down at you. 

“Fearless enough to stand in your lawn with no pants on?” 

You smack the side of his shoulder, before running back into your house. He joins you back at the door, reminding you that he won’t treat you to the best second date ever if you parade in front of your neighbors half naked again. You smack him one more time for good measure, before pressing a kiss to his cheek to say goodbye.

Pairing: Erwin Smith x F!Reader (Modern AU) Word Count: 5.4K Warnings: anxiety, swearing, alcohol, work stress, secret relationship, teacher-student relationship, age difference, explicit sexual content, nudity, fingering, desk sex, a little possessiveness, size difference, talk of marriage and having kids, drunk Nile, mention of a sex dungeon, lots of romance, marriage, pregnancy/children A/N: This is my Secret Santa gift for the lovely @lady-lauren. 😊❤️ Merry Christmas, Lauren! (Also: To anyone else reading this, IF YOU ARE A MINOR, DO NOT INTERACT!)

FIRST CHRISTMAS

You really should have known things wouldn’t go according to plan when your plane nearly slid off the icy runway. But you were trying to be optimistic.

And you are in desperate need of a vacation.

Even now, as you stand at the edge of a group of fellow travelers, waiting to find out if your flight is just delayed or outright canceled, your phone keeps buzzing in your bag.

You know you turned off Teams notifications. But apparently, your office group chat — or at least part of it — has migrated to a group text.

With a sigh, you glance down at your lock screen, a familiar anxiety settling in the pit of your stomach. You feel guilty enough as it is, taking a week off to escape what already feels like an endless winter. But it felt like it was meant to be when you spotted an all-inclusive vacation deal at a Hawaiian resort.

The last thing you need, on top of a very untimely blizzard, is workplace drama and news that your boss has fired his third secretary in as many months.

As you swipe the notifications away, an airline employee confirms the news you’ve been dreading: Your connecting flight is canceled, and the soonest you can fly out is tomorrow morning — Christmas Day.

Nearly twelve hours from now.

And that’s only if the weather decides to cooperate.

Fucking fuck.

Seguir leyendo

Pairing: Enji Todoroki x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ Only

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: authority/power-play, boss/employee relationship, age-gap, size difference/size kink, public heavy petting/fingering, rough sex, desk sex, praise kink, use of “good girl,” light choking/breath play, hand pressed over reader’s mouth, hair pulling, creampie (Enji is implied to be divorced, no cheating) trapped in an elevator for a while, so warnings for claustrophobia and elevators in general. 

A/N: Special thanks to @whats-her-quirk​ and @titan-fodder​ for reading over this bad boy, and extra special thanks to my power going out right as I was excited to post this. God how I’ve missed Endeavor. One horny thought turned into over 6k. Enjoy ❤️

Endeavor’s name and presence is all over his hero agency. On every letterhead, blazing neon red letters on the front of the building, on company sweatshirts and stamps, email signatures, and even every pen and notepad. Yet the man himself is hardly ever seen.

Working directly for the titular hero of the agency as his senior support staff means that you see him more than most, and even still, his flaming body is a rarity to you.

So it’s a shock to see him in the elevator this morning, fire extinguished due to the spacial hazard. He’s dressed casually, white dress shirt and navy trousers. It’s too early for his hero duties to begin, the clock having not yet struck 9 a.m.

“Good morning,” you whisper with your eyes averted; his proximity always makes you anxious.

“Morning.”

He greets you with a curt nod as you step into the elevator from the parking garage floor.

Your first instinct is to press yourself to the farthest wall away from him. There’s an obstacle, however, one of his many sidekicks already twiddling his thumbs with worriment against the right wall. Endeavor stands in the back left corner, arms crossed, muscles bulging. You stick to the front of the car, leaning against the cool wall near the control panel.

The top-most floor is where you’re headed—same as your boss.

Seguir leyendo

Thinking about Draken giving you backshots in the back seat of your car.

You whine and paw at him after a movie date later at night so the parking lot is almost empty, plus it was too cold for his bike so you had a perfectly nice back seat to ruin. Any other time he probably would have told you no, rolling his eyes and telling you you're crazy (affectionately) but there was something about tonight that was different. Chalk it up to how pretty you look or the moon cycle or whatever but he's shuffling to the backseat to get in between your legs without any argument.

Next thing he knows you're underneath him, his big hands pushing you into a nasty arch with your ass against his pelvis and your hands scrambling to hold onto anything as you cream around his thick cock. Every roll of his hips has you squealing and seeing stars, his heavy groans and slaps to your asscheeks only pushing you further and further over the edge. Maybe you shift your hips a bit too far away when a particularly hard thrust nearly knocks your air out before he forcibly pulls you back to spear you on his length, his flushed chest pressing against your back.

"Nuh-uh princess don't be running from me" He scolds with a nip to your shoulder blade "you wanted this dick so bad, you'll take it. All of it"

Open Arms

PART I: Fix You  |   PART II: The Sun Will Rise  |   PART III: Closest to Heaven | PART IV: Open Arms

Pairing: Toji x Reader

Genre: Angst

“Lightning never strikes the same place twice.”

“I have a little sister,” Megumi muttered in the passenger seat. Amazement and joy were evident in his voice. Toji put on his seatbelt and hummed in response, slightly amused by his son’s reaction. It’s like he still can’t believe it. 

It was sunny when they entered the cafe earlier. Now, it started to rain. The weather seemed to be mimicking the turn of events; finding out about his daughter with you and finding out that you have someone else now.

“Aimi’s very pretty; she looks like her.” A sincere smile made its way to Toji’s lips as he tapped on the steering wheel’s shiny yet rough surface. “Y/N’s got a boyfriend,” He added, laughing bitterly, nodding his head as if the information was just starting to settle in. Toji sniffed as he looked ahead, trying to think of something other than the image of you, your boyfriend, and his daughter walking away.

It hurts too much. And Toji doesn’t think he can move on from you.

Seguir leyendo

As a person who grew up at the foot of the mountains I will never ever ever understand plains and prarie dwellers that shit is insane. If you have no forests and caves then where do you hide from God

Theatre Kid! Eren

+++ Nerdy theater kid Eren, Dick sucking, smut, cum facial, nervous eren innocent eren, fat balls, thick chode dick (7 minute read)

Theater kid! Eren who had spent weeks between his days with you and at rehearsal stressed out of his mind. Going through play runs, lines, fittings and makeup. Going to bed almost nightly in tears because he was sure he messed up his lines earlier at rehearsal. Or that he was completely off key on the last verse.

So many evenings you spent pulling his head into your lap as he shoved his face further into your thighs from shame and disgust. He was a hyper critical perfectionist. For such a timid guy you’d never seen him get as abrasive and as downright cruel as those days he was dissatisfied with his performance. Some evenings he’d butt the heels of both palms against his temples while muttering “fucking idiot” to himself over and over because of one note that he suddenly remembered he sang offbeat.

But all of the self flagellation and discipline was all worth it to him in the end to finally get on stage and deliver all his lines and hit all his notes exceptionally. And to do it while trying to inconspicuously seek out your gaze in the theatre as you watched him during the final performance. Knowledge of your presence was his safety charm from embarrassment and fuck-up’s amongst the intimidating crowd laid out beneath him. He'd see you sitting to the far left and his heart rate would quicken up, his large palms would sweat. All Eren desperately wanted to ask you in that moment while he acted on stage was “am I doing ok?” and “are you proud of me baby?”

He was so incredibly eager for your praise, and so eager to find you after the show.

You did find him after the show, seeing him from afar in the theater hall looking back and forth over his shoulder antsily trying to see if you were coming. He was nervously playing with the loose thread at the very bottom of his shirt and his toes were pointed in that pigeon toed way that they get when he felt insecure or worse; abandoned. All the other actors had a small crowd of family and friends gathered around them. But all Eren had was you. He was slouching, nervous and already growing a childish pout.

You jogged right up behind him, yanked his arm down and landed a big fat kiss right on the apple of his cheek. Leaving a ring of speckled gloss there.

The redness that creeped up his neck came almost immediately. But not as quickly as him turning around to grab at your face and squish it, leaning down so he could put his full body weight into kissing you.

Poor little dumb Eren.

So, so eager to finally have a girlfriend and do all sorts of “hanky panky,” as he liked to call it. That he often forgot how to control himself in public.

He was shaking like dog, kissing you with so much fervor. So much anticipation. You could barely find space to pull back and gift him the pretty floral bouquet you got him as congratulations for such an amazing performance. But when he saw it he smiled wide and eager, from ear to ear. His gratitude brushed up to the moon.

You were so proud of him. It was obvious.

So it should’ve came at no surprise to him then really, when you begged him to take you back offstage. Under the guise of wanting a “guided tour” of the theater's inner workings from the actor himself.

Of course It wasn’t allowed but it was the only rule Eren thought he was breaking.

You somehow managed though to put him in the sound technician's arm chair while you gagged on his chubby dick, bobbing up and down on the only part of his veiny meat that fit inside. He was a moaning, whiney mess. Lifting his hips so far off the chair and pushing your head away.

You were slurping so good, sucking right off his thick dick with a puffy smack to your lips just to go back in and suckle his red tip. To dig your tongue into his little pee slit.

He whimpered audibly.

“N’more..n’mor—“

You pressed the front of your tongue flat under his red mushroom head, sealed your lips and suckled and suckled. Like you were gonna suck all the little drops of pre-cum out of him.

He warbled “No!—ah. It hurts”

He was gasping for air and sobbing.

Despite his shaky pink hands and his pink red tip you kept suckling.

Of course it didn’t hurt, but your dumb baby boy didn’t have the right words to convey that it felt so good it overstimulated him.

You started rubbing Eren’s saggy balls that he was so insecure about, fondling the sack that was gonna get you pregnant one day. And when you could feel his balls pulling up against his cock you sucked one last aggressive pulse on him before angling his dick to your face and letting him squirt and spittle ropes upon ropes of warm goopy cum on your face. Dripping down your face, in your eyelashes, drenching your engorged lips and sliding down your chin back onto his dick.

You grabbed his dick again to clean it off but he feverishly pushed your head away “No d-don’t” with a pitchy whine.

He slumped further down the chair. His rail thin thighs caged your body in at either side. When you looked up to really take a look at him, his ponytail was falling out of its hair tie. It just appeared limp and frenzied. There were tear streaks down his face.

“When we get back to my room you want me to try on my little thong collection that you’ve been wanting to see?”

Despite how tired it was, his dick’s tip twitched on his lap immediately. Revealing his interest before he could. Eren shyly nodded his head. Too spent to give you more than a hoarse “please…”

You helped him pull his pants up, and dragged him out of the theater stage with his pink and red bouquet bobbing limply by his side.

some observations on color coding eyewear in ficton and their meanings

I see no lies.

☆ 𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗽𝗵𝗼𝘁𝗼 - ,, 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼

summary: satoru gojo has been your best friend for the past 14 years. when he suddenly finds himself taking care of a kid, your relationship twists and turns into something far more romantic.

warnings: fem!reader , slow burn , mutual pining , angst , suggestive (nothing explicit but things are implied) , mentions of death , violent imagery , reader deals with a lot in this fic , gojo is sweet tho !! not proof-read word count: 15.8k (kill me now.) a/n: this fic has been in my drafts for a year now and it's honestly such a mess but i've written it and i'm happy with it (kind of) so the fact that it's such a jumble barely bothers me anymore !! special thanks to the glue song by beabadoobee for helping me through this

“i love you,” he says, lips curled into a pout that makes you scrunch your nose in disgust. 

you press the heels of your palms to your eyes, sighing deeply, “no you don’t.”

“but i do!” and his voice gets louder, which only coaxes the already forming headache behind your eyes to grow. “so you should get your notes out for me.”

“what do you know about love anyway?”

it’s muttered just under your breath and you hope gojo didn’t catch it, isn’t able to read into the bitterness laced along each word. you slam your laptop shut, standing up abruptly. gojo follows suit.

“i’m not digging up my anthropology notes from two years ago just so you can cheat.”

his hopeful expression drops in an instant, hands flying forward to grab onto you, “no! don’t you want me to pass? don’t you love me?”

and what about you? what do you know about love?

you know that it’s difficult. there isn’t a need for any profound thinking, any nuance, for you to believe that. you know it’s true because you’ve lived it—because you are living it. you don’t have to have said “i love you,” once in your life, to know your way around the trials and tribulations that come with pesky emotions. (emphasis on pesky emotions that call for intimacy).

you know that love hurts. perhaps, it’s the lack of control that makes love so painful. while beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, those who behold can’t choose who they wish to admire. it happens unexpectedly, like the changing tides: waves of emotion crashing down at once and pushing you off kilter. 

you know that love is uncertain, a gamble. it’s the lack of promise love can give. while you may love someone with everything you have, devote yourself to them, prioritize them—they might never see you as anyone other than a friend. sometimes, you might be a best friend. oftentimes, it’s never anything more than that.

and yet, love is such a beautiful thing. it bleeds warm, saccharine sweet like spoonfuls of honey, and fills you with the greatest happiness. tingles at your fingertips where they touch, shivers down your spine when they stare, butterflies erupting in your stomach when they speak. your skin growing warm and your smile stretched wide—that was the beauty of love.

but how can something so precious be so utterly disheartening? 

“no,” you roll your eyes, walking away from your best friend, unsurprised when he scrambles after you. “i don’t love you.”

you don’t mean it at all.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

you sigh a great deal in your life, but none of them compare to the way your chest heaves when you find yourself doing something you know you’ll regret. it’s never a shock that these regretful choices often accompany a certain white-haired man.

the pitch black darkness of your room is pierced by a beam of bright light from your phone screen, your tired eyes reading over the message once. twice. three times.

gojo 🤑: hey can i ask for a favor? pleaseeeeee?????? 🙇‍♂️🙏🙇‍♂️🙏🙇‍♂️🙏 im begging you 😫😫

you groan, tossing your phone to the side to run your hand down your face, letting your fingers catch on the soft skin around your eyes. despite the many years you’ve known him, your hand still trembles as you type out your response, another sigh escaping your lips.

you: what the fuck is it now

the urge to slam your head into the nearest wall makes your neck twitch, the ghost of the movement lingering over your body. why did you even bother asking?

gojo 🤑: i knew you’d say yes 😁 you just love me SO much come to my place tomorrow early too better be there before sunrise

you:  i’m going to kill you for this one satoru 

setting down your phone, you will yourself to close your eyes and forget about the man who’s been the cause for all your inner turmoil lately.

to be honest, he’s been the cause of your inner turmoil for the past year and a half, as pathetic as that may be. it’s not your fault he’s handsome, charming, funny, reliable—the list goes on. sure, he can be slightly immature at times, and he often shies away from commitment, but who doesn’t have flaws, right?

you squeezed your eyes shut even harder, trying to clear your mind of all things gojo.

the thing with love is that, at its worst, it can stay a secret for years and years to come. you can pine and yearn for someone so terribly, every fiber in your body craves them, and they would never know. you never have to tell them anything. that choice alone is what has put you in your recent predicament.

if life was black and white, perhaps you could have stopped being friends with him the moment you noticed the way your heart raced at the mere thought of him. but things don’t work like that and, frankly, you think gojo would hunt you down if you even tried to cut him off.

you’ve tried to rid yourself of this 190cm lanky demon several times over the course of your life, however you’ve been unsuccessful every single time. when you met him 14 years ago, you didn’t think satoru gojo would become your best friend. in fact, you found him annoying, like a pesky mosquito that refused to leave you alone no matter how hard you swatted at him.

the two of you had your fair share of fights growing up, some lasting mere hours, others stretching on over the course of a couple days. despite that, you both managed to make up and forgive each other no matter what. 

you had believed then, as a hurting teenager, that one of your more serious arguments would eventually drive you both apart. after all, the similarities between you both were few and far between. for some reason entirely unknown to you, your scathing words never pushed him away.

and now that it's been 14 years, you’ve grown too fond of him to be able to imagine a life without him. 

so, you’re forced to swallow back the way your feelings crawl to the back of your throat when you’re with him, resting at the tip of your tongue, because you know he’d never see you as anything more than a friend. 

hell, it was obvious. the two of you have done everything you could possibly do as a couple: go on amusement park “dates”, spend hours in the arcade together. he’s even insisted on cuddling, changing in front of one another, sharing a bed. yet, gojo has never seemed to look at you any differently. 

and none of it ever bothered you either—until last year, when you saw him in a different light nearly overnight. in comparison to all else you had done with him, this was absolutely minuscule, but it's the reason gojo takes up so much of your thoughts even now. 

you had come over to his apartment. it was a saturday and every saturday, he insisted the both of you hang out. when you met him as a dumb little kid, it was easy to hang out whenever you both pleased. things are obviously different now that you both have responsibilities. 

being busy with university and your part-time job, you and gojo began to see less and less of each other. still, saturday evenings stayed dedicated to your long-standing friendship. that day, your shift at the grocery store was particularly grueling: loud babies wailing, irritable customers screaming in your face. to top it all off, you had a headache and had to skip lunch. safe to say, you were exhausted. 

you got to gojo’s house, knocking on the door, almost falling asleep against the wood. he didn't greet you. in fact, he wasn't even home. this wasn't uncommon, you simply pulled out your spare key and walked inside, making a beeline for his couch and letting your body sink into the soft cushions. the guy was unbelievably rich for a university student—not that you were complaining. 

you wanted to stay awake, wait for him so you could follow through with your usual saturday shenanigans, but you just couldn’t. 

the couch was awfully comfortable, cradling your fatigued body, lulling you to sleep. your eyes fought against the instinct to close, but ultimately, you lost and gave in. darkness enveloped you as your head fell back. it was a rather uncomfortable position, but at that moment, you didn’t have enough energy to care. 

you fell asleep in mere minutes, and because he has the worst timing, gojo showed up seconds after you had bid goodbye to consciousness. 

to this day, you’re still unsure if you had dreamt it, or maybe you had jolted back into a state of semi-awareness when your noisy friend barged in with a loud, “honey! i’m home!". what you’re sure of, is the fact that he had moved you. while drifting in and out of sleep, you felt his cold hands press into the muscle of your arms as he laid you down, moving you into a much more comfortable position. 

perhaps you were still in the throes of deep sleep, sinking into pillowy clouds in your dreams and that’s why you conjured up this moment. it might not have happened at all. or…perhaps gojo did lean over you, his warmth spilling over your cheek as he pressed his lips to your forehead. they were slightly chapped as they brushed against your skin, and you felt the gust of air as he sighed his goodnight.

you wonder if he had smiled. 

it wasn’t like gojo had never been affectionate with you before. in fact, you’re pretty sure physical touch is one of his love languages with how prone he is to clinging onto you like some parasite. some things, like forehead kisses, are strictly outside the bounds of your friendship.

there’s something so intimate about that gesture, something far more genuine and laced with a kind of devotion that never exists between people who are simply just friends.

the following morning, you wrenched yourself out of his apartment with the excuse that you had to feed your fish. you don’t even own fish. 

the feeling had been so utterly foreign. you couldn’t remember a time when you had ever felt this nervous around gojo—your palms sweaty, a tingling feeling racing up and down your spine. the realization dawned on you the moment you had woken up.

this feeling, which had laid dormant at the bottom of your heart, flickered to life, merging with the very blood that pumps through your veins.

maybe, gojo had always been more than just a friend. more than a best friend, even. 

you don’t know how to face it—the truth about your feelings. you try and fail to move on, try and fail to confess, try and fail.

which is why it wasn’t surprising in any sense that you were awake, before the sun had even graced your city, slipping on your shoes so you could go and see what your best friend wanted from you. 

.・゜-: ✧ :-

“you have a what?”

gojo snorts, rolling his eyes, “why’d you say that like i asked you to get naked or something? listen: i have some errands to run and i need you to look after this kid of mine.”

you’re struggling to wrap your head around everything he just laid onto you. even if the only new information was that he, seemingly overnight, got himself a kid. how did satoru gojo end up with a child in his care?

you sputter, trying to come up with something to say. “since when did you have a kid?”

“i adopted him a few days ago, saved him from some family stuff. anyways, can you look after him or not?”

you really hate yourself for saying yes, but you say yes, and suddenly you’re sitting on the couch with the world’s grumpiest child next to you. it’s been a few minutes since gojo’s left to do god knows what, and neither of you have said a word. you expected megumi to get off the couch and go do his thing, while you figure out how to look after him, but he stayed glued to the spot gojo called him to.

“so…how old are you?”

silence. 

“i’m twenty-two, just like satoru.”

more silence.

you probably wouldn’t have known his name had it not been for gojo telling you. 

you sigh—he clearly doesn’t like you. it stings a little bit, you liked to tell yourself that you’re the type of person kids naturally gravitate towards, but clearly there are exceptions. 

“what’s your…favorite color?” you try once more, and again, it’s met with silence. the boy hasn’t even looked at you, staring straight ahead, preoccupied with something else. 

“well, mine is probably blue. i think it’s such a nice color—like the ocean and the sky. and there’s so many shades, but lighter blues are especially gorgeous,” you ramble, feeling a bit embarrassed. 

he lets out a breath through his nose, and you perk up, waiting for his response. “i like pink. do you like blue because it reminds you of gojo’s eyes?”

you laugh, perhaps a bit too loud. out of all the things he could have said, you certainly weren’t expecting that. 

waving your hands in front of you, you try to shrug off his question, “no, it’s nothing like that! he’s just my best friend.”

megumi nods, but something tells you he doesn’t believe you. you can’t believe you got bested by a six-year-old. shaking your head, you interrogate him some more about his hobbies, and megumi responds with one word answers. eventually, the two of you settle on reading him some non-fiction book that you’re surprised even interests him.

as the hours stretch on, megumi warms up to you a little more. or something like that. he’s started asking you more about yourself, and even let you inside his room, showing you his growing collection of books about animals. 

he’s strangely interested in your relationship with gojo: asking how you two met, why you wanted to be friends with him. whenever you give him your answer (some bullshit you make up on the spot because—really. why are you still friends with an idiot like him?), he hums like he’s learned some fundamental truth about you. 

honestly, the kid scares you a little bit and it makes perfect sense that he ended up with satoru gojo as his parent. 

speaking of: the fact that gojo was even allowed to adopt him in the first place makes you question everything you ever knew about him. then again, there’s always the possibility that this was by no means a legal adoption. he did say megumi was saved from some family troubles, and knowing your best friend of several years, this very well entails kidnapping. 

you furrow your brows, looking over at the six-year-old doodling some large fluffy dogs, “did gojo just scoop you up off the street?”

“something like that.”

well. that’s alarming. 

when gojo gets back, he doesn’t really offer you much of an explanation as to how or why he suddenly has a kid. you were naive for thinking you would get one at all. instead, he tucks megumi into bed, sits you down at his dinner table, and shares some of the takeout he brought home with you. 

you expected that to be the last time you’d be babysitting megumi.

but then you’re back in two days, and then the day after that as well. and then the day after that too. 

now, you’re a good friend who loves helping out your friends, and you’re a good samaritan who will provide your aid where it’s needed. in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t even that terrible of an arrangement. you could definitely live like this.

but then it’s been a week of being called to babysit, and you definitely can’t live like this.

you don’t have the heart to look gojo in the eyes and tell him you can’t do this anymore, so you keep going. love makes people do crazy things, even if it’s ignoring pending assignments so you could color dogs with a grumpy little boy.

you rub the sleep out of your eyes, yawning as you get dressed, “why don’t you get an actual babysitter? i doubt i’m being a good influence.”

of course, your academics are your top priority. but you can’t help but think about how megumi might turn out if the only people he seems to be surrounded by are you, and your impulsive, borderline insane best friend. 

gojo’s voice crackles over the phones as he laughs, “you see, i would. but megumi keeps asking for you- actually, he insists that it has to be you.”

maybe, you’re just being dramatic. this isn’t that bad anyways. 

this time when you step into the gojo household, your beloved best friend already has one foot out the door. normally, he lingers, giving you both sickly sweet goodbyes, scooping up a struggling megumi into his arm to plant a big wet kiss on his cheek. 

he offers you one too, which you quickly decline. 

“i won’t be back until really late today,” satoru grimaces, pulling the door shut only for you to pull it back open.

you pout, slightly alarmed, “but satoru, i have an essay to work on!”

“just use my laptop!” he shouts as he runs off. you wonder how he has the time to do any of his own assignments. 

you figure he’s probably out meeting with his model UN group. it’s one of the few academic pursuits in his life that gojo is very serious about. either that, or he actually took up the tutoring offer from nanami (but you highly doubt that).

megumi has yet to wake up, so you go on a hunt for gojo’s laptop to start on your essay. might as well be productive while you have the chance to. 

you find it resting on his desk in his bedroom, and bring it over to the living room. it’s only when you open it up that you find out it’s password locked. you try texting gojo, but something tells you he won’t be responding. 

if you can’t guess the password, then you have to begrudgingly start your essay on your phone, which sounds like a nightmare.

your first guess is his own birthday. satoru has a habit of acting like his birth reset the course of planet earth, so it wouldn’t surprise you if that was also his password. surprisingly, you’re wrong. and you’re wrong about it being geto’s birthday, or megumi’s birthday (which you only learned recently), and even your own birthday. 

you’ve definitely ruled out the possibility of it ever being nanami’s birthday, which leads you to believe it isn’t a birthday at all. bringing your hands together, you steeple your fingers and bring them under your chin; trying to think like gojo is hurting your brain.

clearly this isn't working out. gojo's an enigma and trying to put yourself in his shoes is making you lose what few brain cells you've managed to save. 

so, you make your way into his poorly guarded room.

you tend to keep a safe distance away from his bedroom for obvious reasons—lord knows what gojo has lying around—so it feels strange to open the door and step inside. 

your first impression is one of surprise at how clean it was. knowing his tendency to leave many of his chores untouched or half-completed, you expected his room to be a reflection of his laziness, but you can actually see the floor. his bed is made and his dirty clothes lay in a hamper in the corner, clean clothes folded and placed off to the side on his bed. 

his desk is a tad cluttered with random trinkets, many of which you recognize from your countless adventures with him, but it’s organized enough.

“okay, if i was satoru, what would i make my password?” you whisper just under your breath as your eyes continue to scan and scrutinize his room. 

you walk up to a few post-it notes stuck on the wall, hoping that one of them might be his password. you remember the amount of times gojo’s gotten locked out of his email, social media, and other things—it would only make sense for him to write passwords down.

unfortunately for you, all of them are reminders to take out the trash. 

pulling out the chair tucked into his desk, you take a seat, sprawling out as you continue to take in his room. growing up, you spent hours upon hours cooped up in satoru’s room. the two of you spent your time playing video games, watching tv shows you were definitely too young for, and talking about everything and nothing. 

when you got bored of his room, the both of you would do the same thing in your room. 

somewhere along the years, you stopped hanging out in each others’ rooms. you suppose it’s only natural—your bedroom goes from being a place to sleep to a clear insight into the way you live your life. 

gojo’s room lacks the mess you would’ve expected, but it’s still obviously his room from the several polaroids stuck to the wall, the kikufuku wrappers on his desk, and the growing collection of mugs accumulating on the nightstand. 

it makes you smile, despite the fact that the several mugs are nothing short of disgusting. next to them is a framed picture. you never took satoru for someone who’s sentimental, and out of sheer curiosity, you walk over to see what it is. 

your smile only widens as you realize it's a picture of you and him from when you were young. you recognize the park the two of you are at instantly: it was where you both met. you were both only just kids back then. he basically ran into you and felt guilty, so he offered to hang out with you since you apparently looked lonely. you took offense, obviously, and told him to leave you alone. 

he did not and suddenly you found yourself with a new friend. gojo forced himself into your life and after a few short days, you decided he wasn’t all that bad. the picture was taken by his mom, before the both of you parted ways, only to immediately find out you lived across from each other.

you flip the frame over, surprised to find a date scribbled in the corner. from the year alone, you figure it was the day the picture was taken. realizing you may have stumbled across his password, you rush back to his laptop to try it. 

lo and behold, it worked.

you sit there for a moment, desperately trying not to read into what you just found out. surely, there’s nothing more to this than satoru choosing a date for a password. he probably didn’t want to go with a birthday since it would be too obvious, so he picked another date instead. 

shaking the annoyingly hopeful thoughts crowding your mind, you quickly begin working on your essay.

you only get halfway through your essay before megumi joins you, silent as always, but from the way he’s side-eyeing you it’s obvious he wants your attention. you spend the rest of the day with him as you usually would, reading and drawing, sharing bits and pieces about your life.

somehow the conversation spirals to when you and gojo met, and you’re not sure if you’re still hung up over his password, but you find your voice shaking a little as you recount the many things you’ve done with him.

eventually, as the sun begins to set, you get dinner ready and eat on the couch with megumi by your side. some random cartoon show is playing on tv, but megumi seems much more interested in mimicking the way you’re forking pasta into your mouth. 

he helps you clean up, and shuffles in next to you on the couch once more. you don’t remember megumi falling asleep, or when you fell asleep as well.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

when you wake up, you're surrounded by warmth. it feels like you're sinking into something akin to moist, spongy cake. the sunlight melts over your closed eyes, and you flutter them open, blinded by white very briefly as you get used to the daytime once more. 

and then you notice gojo laying next to you, elbow pressed into the mattress as he holds his head up with his palm, obviously shirtless and staring down at you. all the air in your lungs escapes you quickly, getting tangled in your throat as you choke. 

you frantically point at his torso, and the bed the two of you were sharing, "what- you- what?"

he laughs and it does little to calm you, "don't worry, we didn't do anything.

“i didn't want to leave you on the couch after i pried megumi away to send him off to school."

he shrugs off the comforter, making your thrashing heart slow down at the sight of his sweatpants. you can feel your own clothes from last night on you: your uncomfortable jeans and an old cotton and polyester t-shirt. 

you frown, following him, "megumi goes to school?"

"yeah?" he says, while your eyes flit all over his chest. "he's six, what else would he be doing?"

you decide not to comment on the fact that megumi hasn’t been attending school for the past couple days, trusting that gojo knew what he was doing. that’s probably a mistake but it’s not your problem to worry about. 

the two of you file out of his bedroom, and you scroll through your phone while waiting for him to leave the bathroom. 

"i can't believe megumi slept with you last night. and on top of that, he was clinging onto you like a dumb koala."

you could barely understand gojo with his toothbrush shoved in his mouth, but you could make out enough to respond with a smug smirk, "sorry that i'm better at this than you are."

"i'm telling you—it's the maternal instincts!" he huffs, walking back into the bathroom with the slam of the door. "do you have any idea how hard it was to pull him away from you in the morning?"

he's yelling from inside the bathroom, and you roll your eyes as he keeps complaining. 

"i basically got in my morning work out! and then-!" he starts again, this time opening the door, wiping his face with a small towel, "that little shit had the audacity to start wailing when i carried you off to the bedroom

"whining about how you were his or whatever," gojo trails off, his voice getting quieter as he begins to mumble. "as if i didn't know you first."

you feel your chest tighten as your heart swells; it's surprising how quickly you've grown attached to the little kid. for all his efforts, he was actually pretty clingy.

a laugh bubbles up your throat, the corners of your mouth twitching up with amusement as you come to a realization.

"gojo...are you jealous of a little kid?"

he gives you an incredulous look, scoffing in offense, "gojo? you mean satoru—first of all."

the laugh you've been holding back bursts past your lips, escaping you as you shut the door in his face. 

"second of all," he shouts, "no. i am not jealous of some kid!"

"i beg to differ!" you call out, and he doesn't respond. you enjoy the silence: this feels good. this feels domestic, and natural, and good. 

it makes your stomach twist when you realize that gojo is nothing more than a good friend. and he'd never see you as anything more than that. 

"what do you want for breakfast?" he asks suddenly, and you clear your thoughts. 

"nothing, coffee is fine."

"okay, no. i’m making waffles," he hums and you can hear him walk away, his footsteps making the ground shake. 

you go about your business in the bathroom, exiting a few seconds later to meet gojo in the kitchen. he's busy gathering ingredients, setting everything down onto the marble counters as he hums a song you recognize as one you introduced him to. 

leaning against the cool counter, you begin to speak, "you know the heart attack you gave me today morning?"

he responds by turning around, giving you a wolfish grin, which you pointedly ignore. 

"why didn't you leave me on the couch anyway?"

this was the first time gojo has ever made an effort to pick you up and move you somewhere else, let alone his own bed. you've slept over multiple times before, and always woke up on the couch. 

he stills, hesitating for a moment and you can feel the air almost pause. 

"and what? leave you to complain at me about how you slept weird?"

he brushed off the question, both you and him know that. but you let it go, opting for admiring your best friend, and crush, work the kitchen. 

gojo isn't the best cook, certainly not better than you, but he can hold his own. that being said, gojo's a messy cook and always leaves the kitchen like a hurricane swept through it. 

he looks good, but then again, the moments where he looks even mediocre are few and far between. his sweatpants hang low on his hips, and the watery sun from the cloudy sky outside spreads over his back and his porcelain hair like it's meant to be shining on him at all times. 

you come around the side of the kitchen, hoisting yourself up onto the counter gojo was working on, allowing your gaze to settle on the curve of his nose and the way his lips were parted with focus. his eyes seem to take on an almost mystical glow—vivid cerulean irises flitting from the different bowls laid out in front of him. 

"take a picture, princess, it'll last longer," he mutters with a ghost of a smirk. 

"you're so annoying."

his boisterous laugh takes up the whole room, and you bite your lip, looking down at your swinging feet. 

he calms down and pours the batter into the warmed up waffle maker, tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth with focus, "you know, it took megumi weeks to warm up to me. he's not shy but...he's kind of picky with people."

this surprises you. 

sure, when you first met him, megumi wasn't the kindest. but it didn't take you long to break him out of his shell. he wasn't the most talkative, but it was the little things: when he leaned into your side while you sat beside him, when he mimicked the way you had eaten. 

megumi is observant and mimicry is the sincerest form of flattery. 

"i hadn't noticed..." you finally say, trailing off. 

gojo exhales something of a laugh, "that's because he loves you."

"i think 'love' is pushing it-"

"no, no! you should've seen him today, bitching and moaning about how i'm making him leave you."

he rolls his eyes with a groan, muttering to himself in annoyance. 

you smirk, pointing at his face to make a quip about him rolling his eyes, when someone begins to bang on the front door. 

there's a quick, rapid succession of knocks, and then: "satoru! where are you?! you have class!"

you don't give gojo the chance to speak before you're jumping off the counter, rushing over to open the door. 

geto stands with his hands shoved in his pockets, brows furrowed until he realizes it's you who's opened the door, and not his perpetually tardy friend. 

"y/n, nice to see you," he smiles, bending down to meet your gaze. you flush, involuntarily. 

though your affection may lie with gojo, geto was still every bit as charming, and then some. 

you move out of the way, giving him the space to step into gojo's lavish flat. his sneakers squeak against the tile of the entrance as he stops next to you. 

"good to see you too, suguru," you grin back, wrapping your arms around your waist. 

he shuffles a bit closer to you, and you don't hesitate to lean against him, suddenly tired. geto moves with ease as he slips an arm around you, bringing you into his side. 

"i don't have class today, you know that."

gojo comes into view from around the kitchen, his eyes immediately fixating on the way suguru has you within his grasp. he visibly stiffens, eyes darkening in a way you haven’t seen before. he wears a kind of neutral look that you can’t understand.

suguru, on the other hand, simply raises an eyebrow, "are you sure about that? today is tuesday, not wednesday."

and this time when gojo stills, it's not with some unreadable expression that confuses you—it's with shock. he scrambles to pull out his phone from the pocket of his sweats, glancing at the date before letting out a string of curses. 

"c'mere," he gestures at you, then ultimately decides to pull you away, his hand closing around your wrist. 

you let gojo drag you into the kitchen, ignoring the way your skin burns at his touch, and he turns to you with an apologetic smile. he's stumbling out his words, hands gripping your upper arms as he speaks. "i can't be marked late by the professor again, or else i'm gonna be in so much trouble."

it’s beyond you why the two of you had to walk into the kitchen for him to divulge this information. and it’s certainly beyond you why gojo had let his fingers linger around your wrist, and on your upper arms. you ignore it, however, as you move towards the sleek, black keurig and turn it on.

geto walks into the kitchen then, shooing a very reluctant gojo to go get dressed. he moves over to grab you a mug for your coffee, which you graciously thank him for since gojo had a habit of leaving everything you needed tucked away in unusually high cabinets.

you set it under the coffee maker, waiting for the dark liquid to fill the cup. tendrils of steam spill out the sides of the mug, the kitchen filling up with the scent of the bitter drink. to your side, geto’s leaning against the counter, watching you with a soft smile. you meet his eyes with a curious stare, raising your eyebrows.

“something on my face, suguru?”

he laughs, warm and deep, shaking his head, “nothing at all.” he slides closer, reaching around you to grab a spoon before grabbing the creamer for you. “why’d you spend the night anyway? did that idiot bug you to study with him?”

you scoff at the thought of your ‘study’ sessions with gojo; they always devolve into the both of you watching a movie, your work forgotten on the floor. 

“nope,” you answer, pouring some of the creamer into your coffee, “i was babysitting his…kid.”

geto’s eyes widen ever so slightly, the only indicator of him acknowledging what you said. you open your mouth to say something more, but gojo comes running out of his room, jacket half-on. he eyes your closeness to geto suspiciously, before motioning for his friend to follow him with a wave of his hand. 

before they leave, gojo walks over to where you’re standing in the kitchen, grinning at you so sweetly. you know he wants something from you.

“would you– like to stay for dinner? with megumi and i?” he asks, voice just a hair above a whisper. had you not been standing so close to him, you might not have heard him at all. his expression remains sincere for a moment more before it morphs into an exaggerated pout.

“please?” he begs, dragging out the word just to irritate you.

“put that fucking pout away and i might agree.”

he takes that as a yes, pulling you into a hug that nearly spills the coffee out of your mug. “i’ll see you then,” he mumbles into your hair, arms wrapped tightly around your waist like you’d float away should he let go.

geto slams a hand against the wall, reminding gojo of his presence, “hurry it up, unless you wanna be late.”

you wave them both out, gojo blowing a kiss your way which you pretend to catch and stomp on. the action elicits a laugh from geto which earns him a shoulder punch from the taller of the two. they begin bickering as they walk away and you watch fondly, heart aching for something you know you’re never getting.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

when gojo gets back from class, he arrives with megumi in tow. the young boy stumbles inside, shrugging off his backpack as soon as he makes it in. you had let yourself in a few moments earlier, knowing gojo would be home soon. you wanted to help with dinner.

megumi notices you seated on the couch and approaches you slowly, giving you a short wave. you return the gesture just as gojo walks over to meet you both, large hands resting atop megumi’s head.

“ready for dinner?”

you nod your head, getting up, “i’m helping.”

“i figured,” he laughs, leading the way into the kitchen. you watch as he puts on the stupid apron shoko had gotten him as a gag gift a few years ago. ‘kiss the cook!’ is printed in red cursive on the front with kiss marks and red hearts around it.

gojo catches you looking at the words, leaning closer while pointing at his lips. “well? you read the apron, angel.”

you try not to put much meaning into the pet name and scoff, shoving him away. “are aprons suddenly law or something?”

“not all of them, but this one is.”

“oh yeah? and what’s so special about this one, satoru?” you ask, getting ingredients out from the fridge, the necessary produce needed for dinner tonight. 

“i said so.”

“in your dreams, dumbass.”

he grins, wide and yielding as he steps closer to where you’ve cozied up in a corner. you take a deep breath, trying to slow your heart thrashing against your ribcage. though his attention should be elsewhere, his eyes remain glued to your own. you turn around, back facing him.

it’s a precautionary measure because you’re sure that you’d make a mistake, staring at him the way you were. 

his chest presses against your back, the warmth of his body seeping through the cotton of his shirt and you can’t quite stop yourself from relaxing against him. 

“where did i put it?” he mumbles to himself, searching the cupboards above you. he doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about the fact that he’s crowding you against the counter, one arm resting on the marble countertop, caging you against him.

gojo pulls away rather abruptly, the feeling of him disappearing as soon as you had gotten used to it. “guess it’s not there after all,” he says, swiftly moving over to another cupboard to check. 

you, however, have a hand pressed to your heart, feeling it nearly beat out of your chest. 

megumi joins you both in the kitchen shortly after, and gojo brings him up to sit on some free counter space while the both of you maneuver around each other in the kitchen. you can feel megumi watching you as you hand things over to gojo, freezing when his fingers brush yours. you know he’s watching when gojo reaches around you for something, pressing himself against you.

you wait for the water in the pot to come to a simmer, softly humming the chorus of a song over and over again. eventually, megumi picks up on the repetition, humming along with you. it brings a smile to your face and you can’t resist pinching his little cheek. 

you’re too busy cooing at megumi (whose face has gone red from embarrassment) to notice gojo watching you both, leaning down, his cheek propped up by his arm resting on the counter. there’s a warmth in his gaze that you always seem to miss, this barely restrained desire to know you better than he knows himself.

he sighs wistfully, which gets your attention and as you turn, he’s walking closer. you let him wrap his arms around you, looking into your eyes for just a brief moment. his gaze is cloudy, like he’s wrapped up in his own head—your own pining reflected back to you. it startles you; you long to look inside his mind.

“this is really nice,” gojo hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. “we should do this more often.”

you can only nod in agreement, everything you want to say sticking to the roof of your mouth, sugar exploding along your tongue like a caramel candy. 

you swallow them down, deciding to keep them to yourself for a little longer. gojo squeezes you to his chest, then untangles himself from you. you watch him get back to cooking and you wonder if his heart is also racing, the blood rushing to his head, roaring in his ears. 

there's a whisper of something painful in the back of your mind. you ignore it.

seconds ago, you were close enough to share a breath. yet, when you watch him now, you feel as though you’ll always be miles apart.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

it’s been a few days since you’ve started babysitting megumi. you fell so easily into their routine, like you were always meant to be a part of it. and when you listen to gojo complain about how megumi likes you more, you begin to believe that you were. 

you fiddle with the keys to gojo’s car as you stand just outside of megumi’s school, waiting for the hordes of children to come running out. tired mothers sit on the few benches next to the entrance, rehashing the same gossip most likely. fathers stand possessively in front of their cars, arms crossed over their chest as they wait. 

it’s cold. the wind brings a chill that sweeps over you and makes a few strands of your hair flutter, landing in a mess covering your eyes. you blow them out of the way, tapping your foot impatiently. 

megumi’s school is rather small: just one main building, single-storied. in the back, you think there’s a garden, judging by the chain link fencing colored green thanks to the growing ivy wrapped around it. 

wreathes and small christmas trees are placed strategically along the sidewalk and on the walls outside, fairy lights strung from the roof of the school. the announcement board outside features a santa claus cutout smiling joyfully. the school is covered in christmas decorations as they prepare for the upcoming holidays, only a week and a half away.

you briefly wonder what gojo’s plans are, whether he’ll be taking megumi home to his family. you highly doubt it—satoru would hate to be on the receiving end of a stream of endless questions. how was he meant to explain megumi anyway?

along with that thought, comes another: would megumi miss his family over the holidays? 

you don’t know much about the boy at all, neither megumi himself nor gojo bothered to explain his past. however, it must be a pretty stark change to suddenly be under the care of a college student, especially one as eccentric as gojo. 

the clock ticks down to a minute before the end of the school day. a large crowd of children stand waiting behind the closed gates, squealing and screaming, waving frantically at their parents waiting for them.

you hear the bell ring and the gate opens, kids flooding out like a rush of water breaking past a dam. their little legs slam against the pavement as they race for their families. you keep an eye out for megumi, knowing that he wouldn’t be the type to behave so rambunctiously. 

it doesn’t take long for you to spot the top of his head, his spiky raven hair moving slowly behind a gaggle of loud children. megumi looks around aimlessly, probably for nanami who normally picks him up. his friend next to him, a pink-haired boy, grins at him and says something you can’t make out.

he must be loud, you notice, as megumi winces from the noise. his gaze eventually makes its way to you, and you watch as recognition flashes across his features. eyebrows raised and eyes wide, megumi makes a mad dash towards you, plowing down his friend in the process.

the sight of the pink-haired boy rolling around on the sidewalk makes you gasp, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your laughter at bay. megumi slows down dramatically when you wave to him, struggling to appear indifferent to your presence. it’s insanely endearing.

“hi megumi,” you smile, reaching out a hand to brush over the unruly strands of his hair. megumi wrinkles his nose at the feeling of your fingers smoothing over his scalp, but he returns your greeting.

“hello. where’s nanami?”

the abruptness of the question barely phases you. you’re used to megumi’s bluntness.

“well…satoru forgot to tell nanami to get you today, so i showed up instead,” you answer, leading megumi towards gojo’s car. 

you barely had the opportunity to really take in this car on your way to the school, borderline speeding so you wouldn’t show up late. curse you for falling asleep for too long. everything about it screamed gojo, from the color to the model (appropriately flashy for a very flashy guy). it’s not your kind of car by any means.

you grab megumi’s backpack while he clambers into the backseat, hopping up onto the booster seat placed on the right. the bright orange flames decorating the fabric is a pretty strong indicator that gojo bought this thing without consulting megumi. handing him back his backpack, you climb into the driver’s seat.

the drive is a lot more peaceful when you’re not racing against traffic lights and skating just under the speed limit. you think of the last time you were in this car—it was too long ago for you to be able to recall.

stopped at a red light, you allow your eyes to wander a bit and explore the front dash. gojo’s placed a small cat figurine in the corner, but aside from that, his car lacks much personality. the only other decorative piece he’s got is a small keychain hanging from the rearview mirror. 

you eye it carefully, wondering why the fraying twine and colorful beads seem so familiar to you. it takes you some time to remember the bracelet you had gifted gojo years ago, in fourth grade. you had spent recess with some other friends of yours, making friendship bracelets. when you went to give gojo the bracelet you made for him, you were met with petty hostility.

he had been upset because you had ditched him, but his grievances were quickly forgotten as soon as you handed over his gift. he wore it every single day until he couldn’t anymore. when you asked about it, satoru explained that the bracelet had come apart. you weren’t surprised: he wore it way too much and that thing was holding on thanks to a flimsy knot you put together as a chubby fingered nine-year-old.

you hadn’t expected him to keep it after that, let alone turn it into a keychain to hang in his car. 

the fact that he had held onto it even after all these years makes your heart flip in a way that you know is dangerous. tightening your grip on the steering wheel, you focus back on driving. 

once you’re back in the apartment, you decide to get started on making megumi some kind of snack to tide him over until dinner rolls around. you watch him rummage around in his backpack, walking over to you with a piece of paper in his hand. 

he tugs on your apron, handing you the paper without a single word of explanation. from a quick glance, you gather that it’s a drawing and you grin, “this is so cute, megumi!”

sure, you didn’t really see it yet, but he doesn’t need to know that. you have to foster creativity in children when they’re young in any way you can, even if it means lying sometimes.

you set aside some strawberries to dice, making a mental note to put the picture up on the fridge. gojo has an abundance of random magnets from all the places he’s visited; might as well put them to good use. 

when you grab the drawing off the counter, really take a look at what’s on it, you almost can’t believe it. for a moment, you wonder if you’re simply projecting your twisted hopes onto this kid’s art piece. 

megumi’s decided to draw himself, standing with his brows furrowed, next to a very long man who you can only assume to be gojo, judging by the white hair and sunglasses. on megumi’s left, is someone in a blue sweater, shorter than gojo. it’s you.

there was clearly an attempt at drawing hands that fell apart into a jumble of squiggles but you get the idea: they’re all holding hands. at the top of the drawing, in large messy handwriting is the title.

“my family.”

megumi runs up to the counter, eyeing you carefully as you take in the drawing. you’re struck with the sudden urge to confess to gojo, convince him to make this boy’s vision a reality. you think he deserves that much.

but your heart aches in a way it never has before—filled with this dreadful yearning for a man you know will never look at you the way you look at him. 

the whispers in the back of your mind come together and someone flickers to life, like the flame appearing from a lighter.

“this is beautiful, megumi,” you whisper, sticking it onto the fridge with a magnet advertising vegas. something malicious squeezes around your lungs, digging it’s claws into your heart but you gulp back the pain. 

megumi is none the wiser, nodding in agreement and waiting patiently for you to hand him his snack. he runs off, taking a seat on the couch and you watch him eat, realizing how sickeningly domestic this whole scene is. 

you hate it. 

hours pass unceremoniously. gojo barges in with a slam of the front door, practically shouting at the top of his lungs.

“there they are, my two favorite people!” he grins, kicking off his shoes. you close your laptop, leaving it on the couch as you get up just in time to dodge gojo’s hug. he stumbles forward onto the couch where you were sitting previously.

while he grumbles about evil you are, you decide to grab the picture megumi brought home. once again, you’re struck by how domestic your actions are, and you hesitate. 

gojo, however, is already making his way over to you, holding megumi captive in his arms. “what’s that?” he asks with a nod of his head.

you turn it around, holding it up to show him and you watch carefully as his eyes flicker from person to person. his grin falls into a gentle smile, somewhat guarded, and he uses his free hand to take the picture from you.

megumi takes this opportunity to launch himself out of gojo’s grasp, scurrying off to his room. you eyes follow him as he disappears behind a wall. when you bring your attention back to gojo, he’s stepped closer to you.

his stare is intense, unwavering, and it directly contrasts with the amused smile he wears. you don’t know what to think—in fact, you can barely think at all. the air is thick with tension, it presses down on your chest until you can barely breathe. 

“it’s a perfect family, don’t you think?” he asks, his gaze softening as he looks down at the drawing. the atmosphere shifts but you still feel breathless, filled with this ache to wrap yourself around him. 

“yeah, it is,” you say, ever so quietly because you’re scared that anything louder would break this feeling. he’s so close, you could close the gap and kiss him right now. 

there’s a crash, a large stack of books laying on the floor, papers scattered everywhere. megumi stands next to it, eyes wide and terrified. his small hands curl into little fists and he takes a deep breath. “didn’t mean to. sorry.”

“it’s okay, megumi,” you reply, swiftly moving to his side. the moment is forgotten, the kiss never shared. “it was an accident.”

he nods, but he stares at you with watery eyes and your heart breaks. scooping him up and into your arms, you walk him out onto the balcony. he tries not to cry, you let him know that it’s okay if he wants to. 

gojo remains standing in the kitchen, the drawing still in his hands. he stares at it for a long while, letting his mind wander to a world where it’s more than just a little kid’s silly art piece.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

you shove the last of your shirts into your suitcase, frowning at the way it bulges out when you zip it shut. it’s the week of christmas, four days before the actual holiday, but you’re only just leaving to go back home. 

megumi’s on break, so is gojo, so you’re not really needed. you wish you were—you miss both of them.

setting the suitcase upright, you go down your checklist of things, making sure you packed everything. you still haven’t mentally prepared to see your extended family, knowing they’ll be chasing after you with questions about your dating life.

‘have you gotten a boyfriend yet?’ 

‘can we expect an engagement soon?’ 

‘any plans for kids?’

it’s all horrible and invasive and you don’t get why any of that matters to them at all. it’s your life, your choices. if you’re not bringing it up yourself, there’s no need to hound you about it every single time you see them.

your phone buzzes in your pocket from a message, and you’re unsurprised to see that it’s from gojo.

gojo 🤑: hey bbg 😳

you: kys  what do u want

gojo 🤑: what are ur christmas plans 🤔

you furrow your brows at the question, wondering why he asked at all. every single year, you always do the same thing.

you: going home…. what else would i be doing genius

gojo 🤑: LAMEEEEE i was gonna ask if u wanted to come over ig but whatever u hate me 😢😢😢

you finish off the conversation, letting him know that you do hate him, and that you need to get back to packing.

knowing his circumstances, you know that gojo is probably staying at home with megumi. he can’t exactly weasel his way out of explaining the fact that he’s managed to adopt a kid. it’s most likely why he asked if you had plans, despite knowing that you do. you know he’s probably feeling lonely—it makes your heart twist and tear. 

you fight the urge to ask him to join you as you drive home.

on megumi’s birthday, gojo proposes that you facetime him. you agree, obviously wanting to see the little boy who’s become so precious to you so quickly. the first thing megumi does upon seeing your face is frown. 

“leave your family. i don’t like gojo.”

you burst into laughter at the sight of your best friend’s face, jaw dropped in a mixture of shock and offense. gojo launches into a rant about how megumi is ungrateful, which only makes the situation funnier. 

megumi, however, finds none of this amusing.

“i love you, megumi,” you say between breaths, “happy birthday!”

“whatever,” he grumbles, but you catch a glimpse of his cheeks reddening as he runs off, leaving you with a still offended gojo.

you watch him shuffle around, propping up his phone against something. “what’s your secret, huh? what do you have that i don’t?”

“i’m just better.”

your smile must be infectious, gojo ditching his deep frown for a grin of his own. his eyes crinkle as you’re met with the whites of his teeth, cheeks bunching up. you can’t stand the effect he has on you, the way you melt into nothing the moment he looks your way.

“i guess you and megumi are just perfect for each other,” he sighs, avoiding your gaze through the call. “it’s cute.”

you’re stunned into silence at his genuine words, and your heart wrenches painfully as you picture the drawing megumi came home with. gojo ends the call quickly, telling you he’s busy. you don’t believe it but you let him leave, allowing yourself some space from him as well.

at one point, he frantically texts you letting you know that he forgot to get megumi a gift, begging for ideas. 

gojo 🤑: I CANRT FINF HIS CHRISARMAS LIADT ANWWER ME THIAS IS AN EMERGYE SOS 🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘🆘

you:  OMFG DO U HAVE AN OFF SWITCH have u tried his room.

gojo 🤑: omg look at u my little genius 🥰

you stare at his messages, finding yourself wishing for his emoji keyboard to glitch out and break. the next text he sends you is a picture of megumi’s wish list. you’re fairly certain that megumi doesn’t believe in santa, but it’s cute that he’s written a list anyway.

they’re all fairly normal: art supplies, animal books, toys you’ve never heard of. but what sticks out is the last bullet point, written neatly. 

gojo 🤑: he wants u to be his family  quick wrap urself up with a bow and mail urself to us 🎁 u would make a cute present 😘😘😘

you disregard gojo’s texts for the time being, focused entirely on megumi’s last wish. the fact that you appeared at all is shocking, considering the fact that you’ve only known him for a little over a week. 

you: yeah i’m wrapping myself up rn

gojo 🤑: pics or it didnt happen 😋

you scoff out a laugh, typing up your response. your mind is still dwindling on the wish list, on megumi in general. he’s quickly taken up residence inside your heart and it feels good to know that you’ve been able to do the same. 

christmas passes slowly, filled with the overwhelming scent of cinnamon spice and heart-warming laughter. of course, you didn’t escape the questions from your extended family. as usual, you brushed them off, eager to get out of the only conversation they seem to want with you.

but you like christmas, and this year, it’s made better by the several pictures gojo’s been sending you of him and megumi. in one, they’re ice-skating. in another, they’re making a gingerbread house. it’s all typical christmas activities but it warms your heart and you want nothing more than to be there with them.

you expect the rest of your holiday break to slip by, nothing special or new. you debated heading home earlier, but decided against it assuming most of your friends already have their respective plans. 

you weren’t expecting gojo to invite you to his new year’s party. in fact, you weren’t expecting him to hold a party at all. as much as he likes parties, gojo’s never one to throw one, especially at his place. 

in retrospect, going was probably a bad idea. if only you knew that before you agreed. 

.・゜-: ✧ :-

this kind of party is one you’re entirely unfamiliar with.

most of the parties you’ve attended never exceeded over ten people, small gatherings of close friends clearing out their busy schedules to hang out together once again like they used to. these kinds of parties are relaxed, you don’t have to dress up, you don’t have to put up a front.

this new year’s party is the kind that coaxes you into a simple black dress, perhaps too short, perhaps too low cut. this kind of party paints your lips a dark berry color that transfers onto your cup, filled with alcohol that burns as it slides down your throat.

this kind of party plays music so loud, it crawls under your skin, seeping into your head. you feel the bass reverberate throughout your chest, forcing your heart to beat faster like adrenaline coursing through your veins.

to say you feel out of your element would be a gross understatement. everyone around you is almost a stranger, wearing features you only vaguely recognize, enough for you to shoot them a smile and a nod as a greeting. 

you examine your hands as you stand leaning against a wall, watching people dance, laugh, shout. you’ve hidden yourself away in the dark (rather pathetic, you think), not knowing how to engage and not really wanting to either. 

“i figured you’d be in some corner,” a gentle hand touches your elbow as shoko squeezes herself past a small group of people to stand next to you.

you smile at her, grateful to find at least one familiar face. “you must not know me at all, shoko, i love dancing with sweaty strangers.” your sarcasm isn’t lost on her and she lets out a laugh, taking a drag from her cigarette. 

you’re surprised that gojo even let her smoke inside, but part of you feels like he’s unaware she’s doing it at all. 

she blows out, tendrils of smoke twisting around you both, invading your senses. shoko looks at you out of the corner of her eye, somewhat relaxed, very curious. “you’re still in love with gojo?”

you blanch at her words, turning to face her though she remains, still regarding you through her peripheral. 

“you’re too easy to read,” she smiles, her posture curved, allowing her to relax against the wall. “i’m surprised you’ve gone this long without telling him.”

it’s probably the alcohol impairing your judgment, but you frown, sighing into your cup. “my alternative is losing him forever, so i can’t exactly be picky.” you don’t intend on letting her into your thoughts this way, even if it’s only a sliver of the way you feel. 

it would’ve been better to brush her off with a joke. shoko doesn’t seem to care, humming, “ i don’t know, i think you’d be in for a surprise.”

“well, i hate surprises.”

time flies by but the night remains young. you’ve loosened up a bit thanks to the alcohol, laughing freely, no longer worried about your attire. your two person party in the corner steadily grew, nanami and geto joining you after some time. 

gojo is still missing, but you suspect he’s out being a good host.

you’ve laid your head on shoko’s shoulders, laughing at nanami recounting stories from the tutoring he’s been busy with. geto stands to your left, reaching out a hand towards you whenever you stumble slightly. 

your cup is empty and you make no moves to fill it again, not wanting to exit the good conversation you’re having. you like hearing nanami talk about his work, hearing shoko complain about her lab partner, and hearing geto’s jokes. 

the four of you decide to get some food in an attempt to sober up. it’s then that gojo finally shows up. the crowd parts for him like he’s someone important. thanks to the effects of the alcohol wearing off, you can tell it’s because he’s shouting his way through the crowd. 

“why are you losers hiding from the party?” he asks, shooting shoko a glare when she takes a drag of her cigarette. she simply blinks at him, making no move to throw it out. 

“not hiding,” you respond, opening your mouth to bite down on the slice of pizza geto’s trying to feed you. “just eating.” your words come out muffled thanks to the food. geto shuffles his chair closer to your side.

gojo lets his gaze settle on you, lips slightly parted as his eyes wander, taking in your dress and your half-opaque lipstick. you think you see his eyes widen, you can’t be sure. you think you see him almost gulp. you can’t be sure. 

gojo reluctantly tears his stare away from you, watching his friend closely, jaw clenched. his anger is only invisible to you, the sight causing shoko to laugh (she marvels at your idiocy often). he grabs a chair and pushes it up right next to yours on the opposite side, arms crossed. 

he sits silently, glaring at you and geto, though you hardly notice. you’re too engrossed in whatever story geto’s telling you. he reaches over to brush some hair out of your eyes; gojo stands up abruptly, his hand wrapping around your wrist.

“actually, i have some important news to tell you,” he says, words short and succinct as he drags you away from the table. 

you’re too confused to stop him from pulling you all the way to the hallway that opens up into his bedroom. it’s only then that you wriggle free from his grip, staring at him, wondering what his problem is.

“what’re you–”

your back is pressed against the wall, he stands a few steps in front of you. he’s breathing hard and his eyes are blown wide and you wonder who this man is—the worry creasing his forehead makes him seem lightyears away from the satoru you know. 

“can i ask you a question?” he asks, the sentence stumbling out of his mouth like he wasn’t quite ready to say it. gojo doesn’t give you the chance to answer him, already talking once again. 

“do you like suguru?” he asks, taking a few steps closer, until he’s a hair’s width away from you. 

the question is so out of left field, you’re forced to take a moment and process it. gojo’s gaze hardens at your silence, and you stave off the urge to make a joke out of this situation. uncertainty makes your stomach churn—you’ve yet to see your best friend like this.

there’s a crease between his brows, lips downturned but not quite a frown. his words still hang heavy in the air, broken jealousy rearing its ugly head. his hand loosens around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull away.

you take a deep breath, feeling like you’ve taken in all the air left between you and him. “no. no, i don’t,” you whisper, heart beating so fast you almost expect the muscle to burst within your chest. 

your admission makes his shoulders drop, the tense atmosphere almost melting away altogether. gojo tightens his fingers around your wrist once more, bridging the gap between you both. he hovers above you, his free hand placed against the wall as he cages you against it. 

despite the years you’ve known him, sometimes you find it so hard to read him, understand his motivations. gojo leans close, his breath fanning over your lips. 

“so you just really like being mean to me,” he mutters and you furrow your brows, gnawing at your bottom lip. 

“i haven’t said one mean thing to you all night, satoru,” you say quietly, eyes downcast, avoiding his attentive stare. his eyes, as blue as the sky, still shimmer in the dark and you watch from beneath your lashes as they shift to a dulled luster. 

gojo drops his head into the crook of your neck, you can feel his lips move against your skin as he speaks, “there’s more than one way to be mean.” 

your breath is caught in your throat. he’s running his nose up your neck, smearing a kiss below your jaw. your lack of resistance only emboldens him further and he kisses the same spot once again.

and you let him, gulping back the unpleasant feelings that float to the tip of your tongue because who are you to ruin this? on another night, you might have untangled yourself from him, walking away and creating necessary distance between you both.

but he’s exactly where you want him, where you’ve been longing for him. 

so tonight, you simply mutter his name in warning, your voice cracking softly as he slides his hand around your waist. his touch burns, it's as though the material of your dress simply doesn’t exist under the weight of his palm. 

gojo presses his mouth to your ear. when he speaks, he sounds so resigned, almost like the woman that sits in your mind, taunting you with the possibility of everything unraveling. she licks at your wounds and her breath burns.

“i feel so…stupid when it comes to you,” he rasps out, pulling you closer. “you drive me crazy and i don’t know what to do–” he cuts himself off before he gets too deep into his rambling. anticipation steadily rises up your chest, higher and higher and higher.

“it’s always been you,” gojo says, letting you see his face once more. he leans over you, simply staring, the loud music fading away until it’s nothing but a beat behind the incessant thrum of your heart. 

the woman makes herself apparent, hiding just behind your eyes, her words piercing your skin.

you gather the courage to really look at him, ignoring the way the woman in your head sighs, telling you it’s not worth it—telling you it’ll hurt. she tells you it’s only going to ache, and tear, and rip apart. you shake her away. his eyes have you trapped in them, drowning in his blue, your hands wrinkling the fabric of his shirt. he doesn’t waver, shifting his gaze down to your lips.

“i love you,” he breathes out, his words so full of promise you nearly believe it. but then you remember where you are, you remember what you’ve been doing.

your hands rest on his shoulders, feeling the cotton material of his shirt under your fingertips. “you can’t mean that,” you reply in a whisper. 

the woman in your head shrieks at you until her voice turns hoarse and raw. you grab the collar of his shirt, closing the gap, your lips meeting his. gojo fists the silk of your dress, creasing the material against his palm. your trembling hand brushes along his cheek and he chases after your touch, tilting his head to the side, nose bumping against yours. he’s presses you into the wall, your spine meeting the cold plaster as goosebumps erupt down your arms. 

the woman shouts, the woman regrets. the woman tells you you’re making a mistake but she’s inevitably drowned out by the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. gojo brings his hand up to your jaw, fingers squeezing desperately. his kiss is all tongue and teeth, he steals your breath away.

a fire festers in the pit of your stomach, it’s flames fueled by his touch, his warmth, everything him. it curls into a burning in your chest. insatiable greed drives gojo to take you into his arms, your feet stumbling against each other’s as you make your way into his room. 

your back hits his comforter, you pull him closer.

the woman sits silently and weeps.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

you wake up with a dull pounding behind your eyes and a painful silence inside your mind. warmth envelops you as you twist and turn under gojo’s heavy blankets—it’s reminiscent of an earlier time. 

beams of sunlight force your eyes open and you prop yourself up, elbows sinking into gojo’s expensive mattress. cradling your head in your hand, you take in your surroundings: the stark white sheets, gojo’s sleeping figure next to you.

you watch him sleep for several moments, marveling at the fact that gojo is asleep at all. he’s always had trouble with insomnia, seeing him rest so peacefully makes you smile. 

you let your gaze sweep over his face, pressed into the pillow, messy hair obscuring his eyes. his shoulders are bare, and if last time taught you anything, it’s that gojo has no problem with appearing borderline naked in front of you.

scoffing, you turn to check the nightstand for your phone, pausing when a cold draft seems to linger over your arms and chest a bit stronger than usual. a pile of fabric resting against the mahogany floors catches your eye, and you stare at it blankly before everything begins to fall into place.

your fragmented memories connect, the night floods back to you, knocking the air from your lungs.

your dress on the floor, the very obvious smear of berry colored lipstick against his jaw. your incredibly apparent lack of clothing.

panic digs into your chest. the woman comes into view once more, her unwavering gaze staring at you with contempt. she crawls out of your chest, standing before you, several heads taller.

‘you messed everything up,’ she seethes. your heart beats faster. ‘he’ll never want to see you again,’ she says, her words stinging like a slap. it becomes harder to breathe. 

you don’t stick around to see what else she has to say, grabbing your dress off the floor with shaky hands. you pull it back on messily, grabbing your phone, rushing out of his bedroom as tears cling to your lashes.

thankfully, everyone seems to have cleared out of the apartment.

you don’t allow yourself to think, opening up the front door, rushing down the stairwell until you’re standing in the lobby of his apartment building. it’s too cold—they always crank up the air conditioning even if it’s the middle of winter. 

the lady behind the desk looks at you with pity. you suppress the urge to vomit. tears stream down your cheeks, trailing along your chin before they fall. you know you must look a mess. you wonder where else you left your berry colored lips. 

you call shoko; she’s hungover when she picks up but she hears the pain in your voice and she hears you bite back your tears. she’ll be there soon, she promises and you stand, waiting. 

you sit in her car, staring out the window. she tries to make you feel better by playing your favorite songs—it doesn’t do much to help. the song reminds you of megumi. 

the thought of megumi sends you spiraling further. how can you face megumi after this? how can you face gojo? he might not remember, but you always will. you’ll always remember the warmth of his hands, the way he held you near like you were everything. 

the woman tells you you’re sick.

shoko eyes you, taking in your tear-stained face. you don’t want her pity either, digging your nails into your palm as hard as you can. she’s stopped at a red light and she reaches over to take your hand in hers.

“you have to figure out where you both stand,” she says, calm and rational as always. sometimes, you wish she could see things the way you do. you wish she could hear the woman who haunts you. 

“i know,” you whisper, closing your eyes as you lean your head back against the seat. the car starts moving again. “i don’t want to.” your stomach churns, an awful mixture of anxiety and hurt rolling up your throat. 

you slept with gojo.

you feel sick. the woman slices at you with her knives. ‘you don’t deserve him at all.’

shoko white knuckles the steering wheel. she never takes kindly to your tears, it took you a while to figure out that it’s because she cares too much to see you cry. 

“you should confess. it’ll be good for your heart and mind,” she suggests as you see your apartment come into view. you’re not ready to be left alone with the woman. the cuts from her knives are still fresh, they still bleed.

you shake your head ever so slightly. “no,” you reply, selfishness motivating your choices more than anything. “i’m going to pretend i don’t remember—i’ll act like i was too drunk to remember.”

shoko disagrees with you, and she lets you know as much as she can before you’re getting out of her car, walking towards your apartment. your dress feels too short, you tug it down. the sunlight burns your scalp and you rush indoors.

as soon as you kick off your heels, gojo texts you. your phone is nearly dead and you debate putting off responding, excusing yourself with the fact that your phone ran out of power. you grow too curious, though, and you read his message.

gojo 🤑: hey when did u get home?

the striking lack of emojis makes the text feel impersonal, far from the man you know. the woman laughs at you.

‘he hates you.’

you:  shoko picked me up 

you pause, debating whether you should add more. let him know that you don’t remember, let him know that you believe nothing happened.

you: i rly went overboard on the alcohol ig  i barely remember anything 

you watch the bubble indicating he’s typing appear and disappear. your nerves fizzle and buzz, teeth sinking into your lips until you draw blood. ‘he hates you,’ the woman whispers.

gojo 🤑: yeah me too lol

you hate it. 

you’re reading into it too much, you think, but the woman says no. her lithe fingers encircle your arms, her sadness turning you sick. you agonize over your words, agonize over his texts. you can’t face gojo. you wonder if you’ll ever be able to see megumi again.

‘you’re selfish,’ the woman sneers, watching you tremble. ‘do you think you deserve to see him?’

‘what would he think of you?’

‘you’ve lost both of them.’

‘you should’ve listened to me.’

you don’t know what to say to her. she draws her arm back and strikes you.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

the following day, gojo informs you that megumi asked for you to babysit him. 

you had decided you would say no, for your own sake. the woman agreed so it must be the right choice. but then he tells you that megumi’s insisting—that he misses you—and how can you say no?

so you sit on the couch, right next to megumi as he reads from his new book (a christmas present from gojo). he’s laying against you, his head resting against your arm. neither you, nor gojo, have said a single word to each other.

it feels wrong, this silence that fills the room. it feels heavy. it keeps its palms pressed tightly against your lips, keeping your words trapped inside. you wonder if megumi can feel it too.

reaching over, you gently brush some of his hair out of his eyes and he stills, turning around to look up at you. his eyes are wide, they waver as they flicker between you and gojo.

“did you guys fight?”

you notice the way he wraps his arms around himself, as if to soothe. he takes a long breath. megumi’s eyes widen and you realize that he’s scared.

you rush to explain, “no! no, we didn’t fight.” he doesn’t seem to believe you; gojo walks over to you both, taking a seat next to him. 

“we’re just tired, megumi,” he tells him, a hand rubbing circles into his back. you feel terrible. 

‘this is all your fault,’ the woman whispers. 

it’s silent again as gojo shuffles around, getting ready to leave for his model UN meeting. he stands at the doorway, looking at you for a moment. you can’t read him, he doesn’t explain. gojo waves goodbye and leaves.

you watch megumi read for a few minutes more, the aftertaste of the previous conversation still lingering on your tongue. he must feel your stare, looking up from his book.

“you’re my favorite person ever,” he admits, he sounds completely serious. you’re taken aback by his honesty, your heart melting as a smile tugs on the corners of your mouth. you reach forward, opening your arms out for a hug. megumi quickly wraps his arms around you.

his hands cling to the fabric of your shirt, “if you did fight with gojo, please forgive him. don’t leave.”

‘look what you’ve done,’ the woman says, the weight of her words make you feel like you’re drowning. 

“i won’t leave you,” you reply, ignoring the woman and her hurt. megumi looks back at you, holding out his pinky for you. you wrap your own around his much smaller one, “pinky promise.”

you let him rest his head against your chest, your steady heartbeat lulling him to sleep. the woman reminds you how undeserving you are of what you have. you know the woman is right. 

when gojo gets home, he asks if you’d like to stay for dinner. every single part of you wants to say yes, and it’s at the tip of your tongue, the answer is habitual. but this time, you turn him down. you can’t stay longer—you can’t be around him. you slip out the front door before you can see the twinkle in his eyes diminish until it’s gone. 

you get home, lay on the carpeted floor of your bedroom, and call shoko. she tells you to confess or die. you tell her you’d rather die.

‘it would be for the best,’ the woman snickers. 

.・゜-: ✧ :-

there’s a growing tension between you and gojo as of late, clearly the result of what happened at the new year’s party. you keep on acting as though you don’t remember the way he loved you, but it gets harder to do so the more you see him.

you can’t avoid him, you’d be breaking your promise to megumi.

everything left unsaid lingers in the distance you keep with him, and it unsheathes it’s claws, digging into you and tearing you apart. your relationship with gojo is strained. it hurts because he’s your best friend.

the woman reminds you that there’s no one to blame but yourself.

she hasn’t left you alone since the night of the party, tied to you like some kind of curse. she appears in the mirror when you criticize yourself, egging you on to say worse things. she stands by your side when you make a mistake, degrading you until you feel like nothing.

she’s having the time of her life. you just can’t get rid of her. she’s right about you.

this time, as you stand waiting for megumi, his school is decorated in a plethora of pinks, reds, and whites. valentine’s day is swiftly approaching and it fills you with a kind of bitterness you keep hidden. 

cupid’s arrows might have missed you this year, but there’s always the next.

part of you realizes that it’s your own fault, waiting for gojo to step up and say something. when that failed you, you waited for your feelings to disappear. perhaps, you should have taken some initiative, forced those feelings out of you until every last remaining bit is ripped from your heart.

your loneliness is your own doing. the woman laughs in agreement, your pain is nothing but a joke to her. her laughter, however, is hollow and doesn't meet her eyes.

megumi runs up to you as he often does, pulling you from your thoughts. the woman hides away to watch. he hands you a little heart shaped box and a card. 

“happy valentine’s day,” megumi grumbles, walking off ahead of you to get to the car. you smile down at the chocolates and the handmade card. something tender and sweet fills up your chest—you feel lighthearted. 

‘do you deserve this?’ the woman snarls, reaching out to knock your gifts out of your hands. you hold them away from her poisonous touch.

megumi holds onto your index finger as you lead him up the stairwell, up to gojo’s apartment. you’re surprised to find him inside instead of at class, like he should be. he grins at you and megumi as you both walk inside, his eyes dropping to the card and chocolates in your hand.

you watch as he stands up, stretching his arms up. his shirt rides up around his waist, you turn away faster than light.

“you got her something for valentine’s but nothing for your old man?” he asks, grabbing megumi so that he can plant a kiss on the boy’s chubby cheek.

“you suck and she doesn’t.”

“you are so cruel.”

your relationship with gojo remains rocky, but times like these still make you yearn for that domestic life. sometime in the future, you hope you get to have this. 

gojo lets megumi disappear into his room, watching you sink into the couch. he follows suit, sitting down next to you. he leaves too much space between you, like there’s an invisible wall keeping him out. 

“valentine’s day is coming up,” he says, though you don’t know what for. you want to say that you know, that it doesn’t matter to you unless you’re spending the day with him. 

“yeah, but why would i care?” you reply, laughing though the sound comes out bitter and hurt. he grins at you, tilting his head. 

“who knows? maybe you have a secret admirer.”

you stay quiet for a moment, thinking about what he had said. secret admirer or not, you’re confident it wouldn’t be the person you want. gojo has better things to do, probably has someone to see. what would he want with you?

why would he even look your way? you’re his best friend—that’s where you have remained for 14 years and it’s where you’ll remain for as long as you know him.

the woman sits to your left, reaching out her hand to smooth down your hair. her gesture appears comforting but anxiety swirls deep within you at her touch.

‘don’t let him know how you feel,’ she whispers in warning.

“so? i don’t care. i don’t like anyone right now, a secret admirer would mean nothing to me.”

“oh.”

you face him then, taking in the soft frown he wears. his jaw is clenched, brows furrowed. the blue of his eyes, your favorite blue, lacks it’s usual sparkle. his shoulders hunched over; gojo looks like a wounded animal. he looks tired. 

as soon as he notices your stare, he straightens up and gives you a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. he stays quiet for the rest of the night and you can’t help but feel it’s your fault. you remind yourself he’s tired, but the woman tells you that he must have remembered the events from the party. 

you leave his house sooner than you would have liked. gojo says goodbye with a hug, his arms squeezing your tight, pressing you to his chest until you can hear his heart beating. 

.・゜-: ✧ :-

you feel like valentine’s day crept up on you too quickly, like you had blinked and suddenly the world is celebrating their lovers. 

it’s sunny and warm, the usual chill of february replaced with a gentle breeze that feels soft against your cheek and in your hair. like it’s mother nature’s gentle caress letting you know that you’ll be fine today.

the woman stays quiet. 

you walk along the sidewalk in front of your apartment building. you had woken up today expecting something at you front door, perhaps from a secret admirer like gojo had suggested. nothing came.

it left a bitter taste in your mouth, your chest tightening, but you got over it as fast as it came. you refuse to fester in hurt, even if the woman fans the flames of your pain.

blinking up at the sun, you watch the old couple across the street walk arm in arm. the old man had gotten his wife a bouquet of her favorite flowers (you know they’re her favorite because she told you so). she’s wearing a new heart pendant around her neck. their hands remain intertwined as they head down. 

you silently plead for your chance at love. 

today, megumi’s spending the day at nanami’s house, along with a few of the kids he tutors. you’ve been absolved of your babysitting responsibilities. you miss the little boy, though.

you’re only a few minutes into your walk when you phone buzzes with a text from gojo.

gojo 🤑: ur not busy today right?????? lets go for a drive bbg 😉

you:  i wish i never met you.

you hardly mean it. rather, you’re incredibly relieved that he’s back to his usual self, using horrible emojis to spice up his texts. you hate to admit it but you missed him. 

maybe you were pathetic for spending valentine’s day with your crush, a man who remains just out of your reach. you don’t dwell on it as you climb into gojo’s car, even when the woman bares her teeth at you.

gojo plays sickeningly romantic music as he drives, making fun of you for spending valentine’s day with him instead of a boyfriend. you’re quick to remind him that he’s in the same position. he falls silent but you notice that the shine in his sky blue eyes are back. you hope, this time, that it’s here to stay. 

he parks a few feet away from a playground, the structures old and somewhat rusty. you realize that it’s the playground where you both first met each other. 

gojo runs over to your side, opening the door for you. he walks next to you, his shoulder brushing yours, your fingers aching to be held by him. you let him pull you to the spot where his mother took a picture of both of you 14 years ago. 

it’s certainly strange being back here.

you hear him take a deep breath. gojo’s facing forward, seemingly entranced by the swing-set in front of him. you don’t take notice of his shaky hands. 

“you were the prettiest girl i had ever seen,” he says finally, breathing deeply once again. “actually– i thought you were the prettiest girl in the whole world.”

“what are you talking about?” you ask with a soft laugh, utterly confused as to what he’s up to. gojo doesn’t respond, he just keeps going.

“i ran into you on purpose, if i’m being honest. i thought we could become friends and then i’d get to be around you all the time.” 

gojo reaches out his hand, hesitating as he thinks. the woman stays quiet when he takes your hand in his own. “but then you basically told me to fuck off–”

“i did not! i said go away or something.”

“thats basically what kids say when they want to say ‘fuck off’!”

he laughs, the sound warming your heart. soft tendrils of sun peek through the canopy of the tree you stand under, making him glow and shine. he appears almost ethereal. 

“i was glad we got to be friends,” he mutters, his grip around your fingers getting tighter. “but nowadays, i kind of wish we weren’t.” your heart stills and the woman opens her mouth for the first time today, conjuring up her ugly words.

“you’re still the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen,” gojo admits, his hand growing clammy but you barely notice it. “you’ll stay that way for the rest of my life—even when we’re old and wrinkly.”

“how sweet,” you grin, but it’s a front to hide the way he tugs at your heart, gentle hands keeping you in his grasp; it’s where you’ll stay for as long as he’ll have you. however, you still find yourself to be guarded, hesitant about gojo and his words.

the woman tells you it’s not what you think it is. her past misfortunes flood your mind, her sadness is contagious.

gojo finally faces you, taking both your hands in his. his eyes watch you carefully and you wonder if he can see through them, see the woman waiting inside, hurt and scared. 

“i know you said you don’t have feelings for anyone,” he starts, looking to the side. you can feel his heart beating at his fingertips. “and i’m probably the last person you want to hear this from, but i owe it to you.

“i love you,” he sighs and it feels like taking a breath of relief. gojo searches your eyes, vivid cerulean brighter than the sun itself. you reach forward, hands on either side of his face. you tremble and you shake—you can’t believe this is real.

he seems to understand, instinctively letting his hands rest against your hips. 

“love you too,” you say, unadulterated joy lighting up your chest and your eyes. your smile is blinding, cheeks hiding your eyes. gojo steps closer while he pulls you against his chest. his heart is racing, but it could be your own that you’re feeling. you’re not quite sure where he ends and you begin. 

he cups your cheek, his touch soft and light. “can i kiss you now? i haven’t stopped thinking about it since the party.”

you tense at the mention of the party, but you nod your head and shove that night out of your mind. you can shelve that conversation for later. 

gojo leans forward with your nod, pulling you towards him. your lips meet, gently at first, like you’re both unsure of how to go about it. he’s hesitant without alcohol to grant him courage, but as you wrap your arms around his neck, he grows bolder.

gojo pours every last bit of his desire for you, his yearning for you, past his lips. you can feel him grin, and it pulls a smile from you too. 

you have him exactly where you want him.

when you return home, hand in hand, megumi perks up at the sight of you both. geto sits next to him, assigned to pick him up from nanami’s place after gojo decided to meet up with you.

geto raises an eyebrow at your hand held tightly in gojo’s, your head resting against his shoulder. “what did i miss?”

“nothing at all,” you reply, holding out an arm for megumi as he runs into your embrace.

the woman simply smiles.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

gojo watches you sleep, chest rising and falling steadily, your soft breaths being the only sound in the room. he sits and he admires and he’s struck with the overwhelming urge to pull you into his arms. gojo wishes he could tell you everything he feels for you, but his emotions are often illegible jumbles of yearning, want, desire, and love—he just can’t put it into words.

he knows you’re it for him. he hopes you feel the same.

gojo leans over and grabs the plastic water bottle left on his nightstand, the plastic crinkling. he winces, hoping it’s not loud enough to wake you. you remain sleeping and he smiles, fishing the small ring of plastic from the top of the bottle. 

it’s big, the real one will be tailored to your size, he thinks as he takes your hand. his touch is gentle as he slides the plastic ring onto your ring finger, watching it hang loosely.

“this’ll do for now,” he decides. the real one will be much prettier, but not grand. a shiny band with a few rhinestones– no, your birthstone. maybe his too but he feels that might be too tacky.

gojo lays back down, curling around you until his head is hidden in the crook of your neck. he hopes you’ll like it. he hopes you’ll say yes. 

he’s always loved you. for him, it’s always been you. 

thanks to mitzi and earth and six for hyping this monstrosity up so glad its not rotting away in my drafts anymore

he looks like he works with his hands (part 2/2) | part 1

pre-outbreak!joel miller x reader | 2k words

cw: 18+ MINORS DNI, p in v sex, size kink, joel has a big d!ck, breeding kink (it’s me like come on), from the back, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, dumbification, reader is down BAD, it’s just p0rn no plot i fear

your back bounced against your soft mattress, the lamp in your room illuminating joel’s face as he stared down at you, unbuckling his pants. you were adorned only in a crop top as joel pulled down his jeans and it felt like hours passed by before joel was leaning over you in his boxers. your hands found the hem of his shirt tugging at it and joel removed it in one swift movement. you gasped, your cheeks impossibly flushed already as your eyes roamed his bare chest. the hair on his chest made you dizzy, your hands pressed against the firm muscles and softness in places. it felt like heaven touching his bare skin, and joel couldn’t even begin to understand the adoration in your eyes.

“did you think about me over the years?” joel growled out, when your small fingers brushed his nipples. the incessant thought that you had wanted him for years was burrowing a deep hole in his brain and even if he didn’t admit it, his heart. joel pulled you out of your head, his thumb brushing the skin of your hip, lighting your skin on fire. the man had just eaten you out like a starved man but the gentle touch alone made you squirm.

“more often than not.” you whined out, arching into him as his hands cupped your ass, his rough hands held on tightly, as if you were going somewhere. joel slapped your ass lightly, asking for more, wanting you to spill the dirty secrets of your little crush. “i thought about you at night, mostly,“ your words fell dead on your tongue as joel groaned at your words, his eyes narrowed as he shoved his boxers down and his cock slapped against his stomach. it was too big, there was so much of it, your mind raced with thoughts that made you flush further.

“did you think about me when you touched yourself sweetheart?” you nodded, your mouth watered at the sight of joel’s huge cock lining itself up with your entrance. joel could imagine it, your smell pretty fingers fucking into yourself as you whined his name out, he felt his ego boost at the image. his dick twitched as he swallowed down the need to make you his, as if you hadn’t been for the past couple of years. your eyes widened at the sight.

“joel s’too big.” joel’s grip tightened at that.

“you can take it darlin’, i’ll go slow.” he reached for your bedside table, seemingly looking for a condom and you shook your head, tugging on his strands.

“no, wanna feel you.” joel thought he might just cum from the words spilling out of your mouth, or the whine to your voice, or the dazed look in your eyes. he was losing his patience. he swiped his tip along your entrance, collecting the arousal that was forming again and you whined at the feeling of his thick head grazing your clit. joel was seeing stars. he pushed the tip in and your cried out his name, reeling for the stretch of his thickness. joel let you get used to it, pressed kisses to your cheeks and whispered encouragements, “good girl, you can take it, doing so well for me.” you felt your heart swell at his encouragements, it helped you relaxed as you nodded for him to keep going.

joel moved slowly, pushing inch by inch, praising and guiding you through it until his tip kissed your cervix and you groaned at the feeling. you were so full of him, you could feel his veins, could feel him pulsing and desperate to move within you. as he dragged against your walls, it felt he was molding you to his shape and it made you dizzy. you pressed a chaste kiss to joel’s lips, “fuck me joel.” and joel didn’t hesistate before pulling out and fucking back into you, robbing the air from your lungs as your hands flew from his hair to his shoulders. he fucked into you like he’d die if he didn’t turn you into jelly underneath him, every time his head brushed against your cervix or touched that spot, your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

joel was losing himself to the way you were sucking him in every time we fucked into you, like he was in danger of ever wanting to stop. you were so fucking tight, surrounding him and he could feel you practically dripping onto him, coating him with your need for him. he was brutal as he set a pace that made his balls slap against you, the room filled with obscene sounds. you clung onto his back, your hands slipping as he began to sweat. you were crying out his name every time he made your back arch, you felt close again. finally when joel pressed a kiss to the side of your head you came around him, clenching and suffocating joel, making him groan at the feeling. the feeling made joel lose control and he stuffed himself into you, filling you to the brim as he came. he was coating your walls, making you his, when he moved to pull out, your nails dug into his back, holding him there and joel fell a little bit in love with you.

even as you slowed your breathing you wanted him inside, you loved the feeling of being filled by him, never wanting it to end. you hated the fact that his cum was spilling out, coating your thighs but it was better than being empty. joel’s arms were getting tired from holding himself over you and as you came back to your senses you moved to shove his shoulder, joel didn’t know what you wanted until you shoved him onto his back. joel had no doubts, he was in love.

you frowned as more cum spilled out of you in the movement, but you let yourself slowly sink down on his cock, not being able to take it all even now. joel could feel his own cum spilling over his cock and he threw his head back, not able to understand how he had never experienced anything hotter than this in his entire life. joel propped a pillow under his head and brought his knees up, against your ass and you put your hands on his stomach for support.

“go on sweet girl.” joel murmured watching your pussy stretch around him as you sank down more. your back arched at the feeling, you had lost count of how many times you had come. you wanted more, you wanted joel to fill you up so you could leak his cum for days. you were probably losing your mind but in your haze, it was the only thought you could make out. joel watched as you ground yourself on him, cum spilling out every now and then, joel wished he could take a picture to make it last forever, wished he could record the noises you were making so he could listen to it whenever he wanted. the scene in front of him was making a familiar heat crawl back into his stomach, his dick twitching inside and your movements halted. joel watched as you looked down at him with a smile on your lips, he didn’t answer you just reached out to two fingers and wiped up the cum dripping down your thighs and tried to push it back inside you. you whined at the feelings of his thumbs against you, joel smirked.

a few more desperate movements made him hard, you gasped at the feeling of him so deep inside you you felt tears sting your eyes. joel tapped your thigh that was straddling his own, silently asking you to move. obedient as always, you moved slowly up and down his cock, your legs aching at the feeling. joel could see you losing your strength, his fingers shoving more cum back inside, before he planted his feet on the matress and fucked up into you. you cried out his name, your hands flying to his hips to found yourself as you felt him fuck his cum deeper inside you. “fucking insatiable.” he growled out as you arched your back and felt yourself grow close again, clenching around him.

“come with me darlin’” you nodded, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers. it was such a sweet act in contrast to the sinful image in front of joel he didn’t think he’d ever forget you. you were ingrained into his memory, like his first kiss or his first heartache. he fucked up into you, spilling into you even more and you let him fill you up, beaming at the fealing, joel’s free hand found your clit, using the mixture of his cum and your arousal to lubricate his fingers as he massaged it.

you twitched at the feeling and like it was the only word you knew you moaned at his name when you came, slumping forward, cum spilling onto both of your bodies. you groaned at the feeling and joel laughed at your reaction, you both were sweaty and filthy but it didn’t matter. joel pressed a kiss to your head, bringing up your intertwined hands to kiss your fingers and you melted into him. although joel appreciated your soft and warm body against his, he wanted to clean you up before you slept. he gently moved to his side, brushing your hair out of your face until you peeked at him. the warm smile on his face gave you butterflies.

“gonna grab a towel to clean you up,” you nodded slightly, letting him go as you removed your hands and joel left after covering you with a blanket. if he kept treating you like this you might never move on from him. after what felt like hours, joel returned with a towel, water, and back in his boxers. although the last part was a little disappointing you thanked him as he cleaned you up and let you drink the water.

as if he wasn’t already the best partner you’d been with, he helped you change even asking you where your pajamas were. when joel didn’t make any motions to leave you felt yourself your throat close, were you about to cry? oh god you were truly gone for him.

joel got under the blanket and you turned fully towards him. you wanted to say something, wanted to confirm this was real, that it would be real when you woke up, but you couldn’t find it in you. joel could see doubt and fear swimming in your mind, could see the storm brewing behind your eyes. but he thought you were regretting this.

“we can pretend this never happened,” it was more of a question and you swallowed down the anxiety that spiked from his thought. you controlled your voice as spoke next.

“do you want to?”

“no” joel didn’t hesitate, moving closer to you by a fraction and it was all you needed, your anxiety vanishing like that. a small smile creeped onto your lips and slowly joel was starting to understand.

“i don’t either, you’re stuck with me miller.” you said before you moved closer and pressed a kiss to his lips. joel let himself get lost in your taste, for the first time he felt like there was no rush. he had time with you.

taglist: @jasminedragoon @brie-annwyl @graciebeanss @carlottalhn @xxlilyxx90 @queerponcho @teenageloser28 @mxtokko

Shades of Cool

“my baby lives in shades of cool, cold heart and hands of aptitude.”

or the one where joel can’t seem to stay away from you despite his efforts to. but it’s not like he tried very hard to begin with.

pairing : joel miller x female!reader

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, creampie, breeding kink if u squint, oral f receiving, fingering, loss of virginity, virginity kink if u squint yet again, tummy bulge, unspecified age gap and joel kind of has a thing for it, unprotected sex, (pls wear a condom guys im just a mf on tumblr) multiple orgasms, a tad of overstimulation, allusions to male masturbation, dirty talk, pet names, mating press, prone bone, light dom/sub dynamics, reader def has some unresolved daddy issues mean!joel but theres some soft joel

TRIGGER WARNINGS : minor character death/reference to his death but he literally doesn't exist in the show i promise, canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, mentions of guns, implied/references to sexual harassment

a/n : this is my first time uploading to tumblr, forgive me if my layout is funky lol, anyways pls enjoy <3

you swallowed hard when you saw joel making his way towards the alleyway you two routinely met up in. watching as he did his typical side to side glance, casual in presence but it was muscle memory for him to ensure the safety of his environment no matter it’s location or the mundaneness of it. 

you quite disliked the feeling that pricked your chest and quickly spread inside the cavity, overflowing up into your throat and drowning out any coherent thoughts in your mind whenever you saw joel. 

it was annoying. pathetic even. just a silly schoolgirl crush you hoped would go away in time. 

you put aside the fluttering feelings for later, and waved, catching his attention. he sent a curt nod, rubbing his palms together before pushing them into his denim pockets. “hey.” he greeted you, if you could really call it that. 

you took whatever you could get from him, so you smiled, parroting it back with a nervous politeness. 

“do you have the uh…” you trailed off, feeling embarrassed that you struggled to even verbalize what you were trading. 

he raised a brow, folding his arms over his chest, looking at you expectingly. “i got it. you got the rations?” he finished speaking for you and you nodded enthusiastically, hurriedly pulling out the thick wad of rations you worked your ass off for. 

he shut his eyes with exasperation for a few seconds before hovering his larger hand over the wad, miraculously dwarfing your own hand. “don’t wave it around kid, jesus,” he sighed, shaking his head while palming it and sliding it away into his back pocket. 

“sorry…” you muttered embarrassedly. 

he didn’t reply, and instead handed you a box, bright purple and pink and your gaze slowly rose up to his face with a slightly ajar mouth. “uh. joel.” you started, voice leading into an upward trail of confusion. 

“if i wanted tampons i could have easily gotten this myself.” you wanted to hide the slight irritation in your tone but he caught on to it, unfolding his arms to jab the top of the box with his index finger. “how about you open it smartass.” he instructed dryly, moving backward and refolding his arms. 

your eyes lingered on him tryingly for a few more seconds, huffing quietly to yourself before flipping the cardboard flap up. 

again. tampons. 

you tilted it towards him and he dragged his hand down his face tiredly. he dug his hand into the box, the tampons shoved to the sides, revealing a small pistol. 

your mouth fell open into a comical O shape, laughing in awe. “oh!” you giggled and joel stared at you blankly, already feeling a hankering for a straight shot of whiskey at the bright and early hour of 8:30am. 

“very creative.” you beamed and it seemed as though joel fought back a smile behind a glare. at least, you told yourself that. 

“just enough for gullible people.” he pushed at a button of yours, just a little, and you paused for a second, shooting him a playful glare. “whatever,” you exhaled through a quiet chuckle. 

“thank you joel, i appreciate the um. tampons, i was running low.” you played along with the bit and he rolled his eyes, nodding, already ready to go back home. 

“sure thing.” he was about to turn and walk out of the alleyway but something held him in his spot. 

he took in a deep inhale before making eye contact with you, rendering you back into your nervous state from when he first arrived. 

“why do you need a pistol? we’ve only ever traded for small things. why the sudden big order?” he has absolutely no clue why he’s asking you this, or rather, he has no idea why he’s letting himself ask this. 

he shouldn’t care. he doesn’t. 

you stiffened, straightening your back and holding the box to your stomach, hands cupping the bottom of it. “just to keep at my place. thought i’d feel safer with it.” you answered truthfully, making sure to not go further into detail. 

his squinted eyes stay on you for awhile, unsure of what you needed to feel safe from. “are you uh…in any trouble?” he asks and you feel a little excitement ignite in your lower belly. 

is he worried about you?

“no! no not at all, i just…i don’t know,” you try to laugh it off but the silence between you two just feels heavy instead. “why do you ask?” you question and he shrugged. 

“if you’re in trouble, i don’t need it somehow coming back to me. i got enough shit i need to worry about.” he answered and the bubble inside you popped and deflated almost immediately. 

“oh, well no need to worry about that. it’s nothing like that, you’ll be fine.” you decided to end the conversation there, a cold feeling of humiliation that prods at your shoulders and throat alerting you that it’s best to just walk away before you can say anything else that might make the situation more unbearable. 

“thanks joel.” you added, quickly making your way out the alleyway. “be careful with that thing.” he called out after you, and you feel the bubble slowly start to shamelessly inflate itself once more. 

maybe he does care. even if it’s just a little. 

—

you hid the box in the shoddy nightstand you had lugged up into your apartment from off the street one night, and exhaled lowly, pursing your lips. “this is good.” you stated to yourself. 

the whole reason why you wanted a gun, was kind of useless if you really put some actual thought into it. 

it really was just for the comfort of your mind, putting the nerves you had at ease. like a security blanket of sorts. 

fedra soldiers occasionally conduct inspections, making a mess of people’s homes to look for any contraband, firefly propaganda, weapons, anything that so much acts as an eyesore to them is grounds for permanent confiscation. 

there’s a specific solider that just makes you uncomfortable, makes your skin prickle up into sharp goosebumps and makes your stomach churn like dry gears rubbing up against each other. 

the way his eyes follow you around, rejoicing in his power over you and how you cowered away from him. 

they come in as pairs to inspect and even if they didn’t, he was still taller, stronger, heavily armed and trained and could kill you in front of a crowd of people and still face no consequences. so a singular witness wouldn't stop him from breaking the rules.

if anything, you’ve probably just put yourself in more danger carrying a weapon. but you felt that if you had it, you maybe had a fighting chance in case push came to shove. 

you collected yourself into your very depressing excuse of a bed, lifting the fraying crotched blanket over your body, pretending you were anything less than semi uncomfortable.

the next morning, you woke up with a slightly sore feeling that resided in just about every crevice of your body but you ignore it, as it’s a common thing to wake up to if you’ve got what basically feels like laying on a napkin as a bed, and using what feels like an even thinner napkin as a blanket. 

you readied yourself to participate in street clean up, since you had to take on more shifts than usual to make up for the hefty chunk of rations you gave to joel. 

—

a bandana resided around your nose, neatly but tightly tied behind your head, doing…definitely not enough to cover the stench of cleaning the sludge off the streets. 

"the fuck would i need coffee beans for asshole? hit me up when you’ve actually got good shit to trade.” you overheard two guys a few feet away from you bickering, your ears perking up at the mention of coffee beans. 

you remembered joel vaguely mentioning how he’d kill for a cup of coffee, and you agreed on that sentiment, even though you’ve never once had coffee.  the point being, he’d been out of coffee for awhile, unable to find anyone who has it, and you figured maybe scoring him a bag would be a nice sign of gratitude for the pistol. 

you pulled down your bandana, walking over to the guy once the other one walked off. “hi, um i didn’t mean to eavesdrop but i heard you have coffee beans? i’d be willing to trade for them.” 

“i don’t take kindly to nosy—“ he cut himself off mid sentence once he turned to look at you, his eyes dragging up and down your body and you wondered in that moment if it was worth the hassle of talking to this. thing. 

but then you thought of joel, and how maybe he’d smile at you, thank you with a tight bear hug and suddenly, it did all seem worth it. 

“yeah, yeah i’d definitely be happy to trade with you,” he grinned and you laughed, trying to hide your disgust with fake excitement. “great! what would you want for it? i have some spare shampoo bars, a pair of wool socks i was saving for winter, or—“ 

he cut you off this time, leaning into your space closer and you instinctively backed away. “i was thinking maybe something different.” he alluded to something that made cleaning up literal shit off the street seem a lot more pleasant. 

your face fell and you lifted up your bandana. “yeah, nevermind. thanks anyway.” 

you turned on your heel and he groaned, calling after you. “the socks…” he huffed, rubbing the side of his chin. “are they soft?” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. 

you tugged down the bandana again, smiling brightly. “very!” 

—

you scheduled another meet up with joel, excited to gift him the bag of coffee beans. 

you were slightly sad to let go of the socks, your feet always got so cold in the winter and the nights were already starting to increase in frigidness, but it’s okay, you could always find another pair of socks again, but you didn’t know if you’d have another chance to pleasantly surprise joel like this. 

against joel’s typical judgment, he said to just stop by his apartment, feeling too tired to lug himself down into the alleyway again. 

but all you heard from that was he trusted you enough into his personal space. which, as much as joel would deny it, is true. 

he could clearly envision you apologizing to a fly for so much as being in its way, so inviting you over posed as nowhere near a threat. 

you knocked at his door, hiding the bag behind your back before he opened it. the wind got knocked out of you once more at the sight of him. he was very much older than you, easily the age of a man who could be your father, but that didn’t erase any of his attractiveness. 

in the deepest part of your subconscious, you knew that that’s what added onto it. 

“hi!” you chirped and he stepped to the side, widening his door to let you in. “hi.” he repeated, drier but, not unhappily. 

“what’d you wanna trade for again?” he asked, his hand rubbing the side of his stubbly jaw, and you had to look away, knowing you’d just watch him in silence if you didn’t. 

“actually,” you hummed, nearly bursting at the seems with glee. he watched you curiously, unaware of the slight smile on his face as he watched you tip toe closer with your hand still behind your back. 

“i didn’t come by to trade. i got you a gift!” he rested his palms behind him on the small table, his broad shoulders seeming even broader now and you wanted to run your hands across the expanse of them. 

“a gift?” he asked, breaking you out of your trance. he sounded genuinely shocked, almost unable to believe you. “mhm!” you nodded, a smile still etched on your features. 

“close your eyes, and open your hands.” you instructed, and he tilted the side of his head to you, wordlessly saying really? 

you nudged your chin, motioning for him to listen, your way of replying with yes, really.

he eyed you before shaking his head, standing up straight and closing his eyes, his palms bared out for you, muttering a quiet, i have no idea why i’m listenin’ to you. 

you plopped the bag of coffee into his hands, sing songing a soft “now open!” 

he opened his eyes, his lips parting in awe. he laughed out of disbelief, and your heart soared with joy as you saw him smile, and widely at that. 

“kid…you…why? i mean, god, thank you, but why?” he asked and you shrugged, rocking back and forth on your heel to your toes. “take it as a thanks for my pist-i mean tampons.” you joked and he chuckled, shaking his head and putting the beans down onto the table. 

“well, thank you, that’s mighty kind of you.” he looked downward at you, and you looked back up at him, trying to memorize the way his lips were curled, the sweet lines by his eyes and the way he just seemed so happy by such a small act of kindness. 

“no biggie!” you replied, and he darted his eyes away for a moment before turning back to you. “do you know how to use your gun?” he asked and you felt your face grow hot with slight embarrassment. 

“uh. i mean you just aim and pull the trigger right?” you asked honestly and he blinked a few times before shaking his head. “okay so you don’t.” and you squinted at him. “i could teach you. get you some extra bullets too.” he remedied the half joking comment with his offer and you perked up. 

“yeah? you would?” you asked excitedly and he nodded. “‘course. you just went from tolerated, to slightly more tolerated in my book. so i’m gonna help you not accidentally shoot yourself in the foot.” 

you didn’t like how you actually felt a twinge of sadness at his obvious joke about only tolerating you. he was kidding, but sometimes it was hard to tell because he had the same monotone, slightly annoyed at everything everyone has to say, kind of voice. 

and you were a sensitive person, and even the most harmless jokes could manage to sting you. 

“well jeez aren’t you sweet.” you complimented with sarcasm. joel threw on his flannel, ignoring your comment. you stepped aside while he made his way to the door. 

“you comin?” he looked at you, opening the door behind him, waiting for you to follow. you turned around to look behind you stupidly, then back to him. “what?” you asked confusedly and he fought the urge to roll his eyes and take back his offer. 

“we’re gonna start now.” he inclined his head out the door, motioning for you to come along. and who were you to decline doing anything with joel. 

—

joel was here. in your apartment. in your space, in your air. he was sitting on your bed, the place where you’d occasionally, frequently shove your fingers into places you just knew joel would be able to reach with no effort. 

he ran his fingers over the barrel of the gun, drumming against its ridges and for a moment you felt a bit envious over the literal inanimate object. 

“cmere,” he patted the space next to him, waiting for you to be seated so he could get started. 

with wobbly legs you made your way to him, smoothing over your jeans in an attempt to secretly wipe away your clammy palms. 

“show me how you hold it.” he placed it in your hands and it felt foreign to the touch. it was heavier than you expected it to be but you tried to conceal your inexperience by holding it the way you’ve seen others handle their firearms. 

you pointed it at the door, pretending that soldier was in front of you, finger on the trigger and hands at the bottom of it, supporting your grasp. 

he observed your hold, a low hmm coming from the back of his throat. “not terrible.” he adjusted your hands, your skin latching onto his heat, claiming it as yours as his body hovered around your side. 

“how’s that feel?” he asked and you cleared your throat, blinking a few times and avoiding his close stare. “it uh, it feels better.” you answered and he clicked his tongue, nodding curtly to himself. 

“alright. now, when you run out of bullets, the magazine at the bottom might drop out but if it doesn’t, you’re gonna take it out and reload, you wanna be fast if you’re in the middle of, well whatever situations got you needing to pull out a gun.” there was a slight cadence of a joke in his gun lesson 101, and it made a giddy feeling return to your tummy. 

he reached in his back pocket, pulling out what you assumed he meant by magazine. 

he explained the logistics of your newly owned weapon, trying to use terms you’d be able to follow along with, not unaware of how you were watching and listening intently, hanging on to every word he spoke. 

you were too damn obvious. 

—

you saw more of joel after that, bumping into him in places you usually didn’t see him, yet seemingly excited every time you met. 

his aloof stare slowly turned softer when it landed on you, maybe it never changed at all but to you it definitely felt different. 

he swore it was you that had been following him, an air of playfulness in his accusations of you stalking him, but really it was him. 

he unable to admit to himself that he  wandered around the areas he knew you were usually found in, wanting to scold you for having such an easy routine to follow but he kept it to himself. 

he watched you walk beside him, taking in the sights of the town, wondering how you could possibly appreciate the hellhole that surrounded you all. 

“so how’s the coffee? any good?” you asked, turning back to look at him, feeling a hushed breath pause in your throat once you saw he was already looking at you. 

a peek of a smile ghosted over his face. “it’s good. i, i appreciate that you did that. i hope you didn’t have to trade too much for it.” guilt resided in him at the thought of you having to give more than you had just for coffee beans. he felt he wasn’t worth all that effort. 

you shook your head, laughing lightly at the memory of the trade. “no no don’t worry, just a pair of socks. they were these brown wool socks that were so soft, so i’d say it was a pretty fair trade.” 

“i’ll be on the look out for a pair like that then.” he was already figuring out who he could trade with to get you another pair of socks. “no it’s okay you don’t have to it’s-“

“hey,” his voice felt rich, calling your attention back to him. your chest went tight. “yeah?” you whispered back. 

“shut up. i’m gettin’ the socks.” there was a backbone of sternness in high lighthearted promise and you sucked on your bottom lip through a grin. 

“i have a confession.” you exhaled, feigning dramatics and he tilted his head towards you, watching you with worried eyes. “yeah?” 

“i lied. i’ve never had coffee before.” you lowered your head with faux shame and he gasped, shaking his head with disapproval. he paused for a moment, then turned around. 

you caught up with him, holding onto his arm, feeling hot at the taut feeling of his limb, and how he didn’t push you off. he just peered down at you, keeping you there with him. “jeez i didn’t think you’d take such offense to that,” you breathed out through a chuckle. 

“inexcusable. you’re tryin it when we get home.” the twang in his accent was something so attractive, and it only had you feeling more and more willing to do whatever he wanted. you’d drink acid if he asked of it from you in that deep southern drawl. 

you two walked back to his place, shedding a layer out of many, holding onto it as you trailed in behind him. 

he glanced over at you, then your coat. “set it down somewhere, you can have a seat.” he pointed at the round table and you quietly thanked him, hanging your coat over the back of the chair before sliding it out and sitting in it. 

“i remember you have a sweet tooth. damn near talked my head off about trading for a bag of hard candies a few months ago, so i reckon you’d like it sweet.” he mostly talked to himself when he said that, fondly remembering the way you rattled on about how you were craving for caramel drops. 

“you remember that?” you were just about swooning, unable to hide it even when joel walked back over to you, two mugs in each hand of his. “how could i not? you never let me forget it.” he set the mug down in front of you, sipping at his as he leaned back into the chair in front of you. 

you picked it up, hugging the warmth of it with your palm. you took a light sip, your eye shutting, a low quiet moan leaving your lips from around the mug once the taste landed on your tongue. 

joel stirred in his seat at the sound, busying himself with drinking from his cup to avoid making any kind of facial expressions. 

“joel,” you crooned and he felt weak. “you like it?” he asked, his lips still curled over the rim of his mug. “it’s so good, i understand why you like it so much.” 

“well, i don’t make it as sweet as that, but yeah, coffees good. not a lot of people agree.” he shrugged and you set your mug down in front of you. “can i taste yours?” 

he slid it to you and you lifted it, tasting it and almost immediately wanting to spit it out. you quickly gave it back to him, sipping the sweeter coffee to cleanse your offended palette. 

“yeah, that tastes like shit, i don’t know how you drink that.” you smacked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, the burnt taste not quite leaving you just yet. 

he rolled his eyes, taking a loud obnoxious slurp. “my tastebuds are just mature.” 

“mature for what? shit? once you hit a certain age do just you grow accustomed to crappy tasting things?” you were dipping into a more casual way of speaking to joel, causing his gaze that rested on you to turn into a view of amusement. 

“rich comin’ from the kid who still eats like she’s 5.” he rested his arm against the back of his chair, and you expired, feeling a bit defensive of being called a child. 

“i’m not a kid.” you muttered and he chuckled. “alright.” he agreed in sentiments but not in actuality. 

breaking the comfortable silence that filled the room you and joel shared, a loud bang rang from against the door. joel slid from out his chair, hurriedly pacing towards the door. 

before he could even open it, you already knew it was one of fedra’s soldiers. things were starting to feel a little too lax, it was only a matter of time until they came knocking down doors again. 

your throat went dry, stomach cinching with anxiety once he stepped inside, the same soldier that had you saving up your rations week after week to be able to afford the pistol from joel. 

his eyes flickered between you and joel, scoffing to himself. “what’s this?” he asked you, ignoring joel who stood right in front of him. 

“nothing.” you answered, intimidation and fear already prickling at your skin and racing down your spine. 

joel stood in front of you, shielding you away from him, and slowly, the fear lifted itself itself away from you, but not fully. not while he’s still here. 

“aren’t there usually two of you who do these searches?” joel questioned, watching as the solider jabbed at various things of joel’s with the tip of his rifle. 

“partners out sick. so y’all get the pleasure of havin just me.” he flashed an ugly grin at you, bending to the side to see your uncomfortable face behind joel’s back. 

he walked around, haphazardly lifting and tossing things about. 

“oh?” he bent down, squatting by joel’s bed. “what’s this?” he waved around a baggy full of white powder. joel stiffened, his nostrils flaring in anger. 

“that’s not mine and you know it.” and surprisingly it actually wasn’t. 

joel had just sold the last of his pills to a sad sap unable to sleep without them, and that was a month ago. the asshole was planting drugs on him. 

“this is not only grounds for confiscation but imprisonment. tough spot you’re in miller.” joel exhaled angrily from a quiet ragged breath. 

“unless,” he came up to you, pushing past joel to cup your chin. “she wants to, convince me why i shouldn’t take you down for this contraband.” you flinched from his touch but it only made him hold on tighter. 

joel snatched his wrist away, stepping back in front of you. “you don’t have to involve her. what do you want? rations, half of my next haul? what?” he gritted and the solider just laughed. 

“you think i don’t have easy access to all that? i want something you can’t easily trade for.” he leaned to the side, waving at you. 

joel pushed him backward, triggering the response of a rifle being shoved in his face. joel didn’t so much as waver, grabbing the neck of the firearm, pointing it away from him while his foot came and rammed down onto the front of his shin, successfully knocking him down with a loud wail of pain. 

it happened so fast all you could do was sit and watch, frozen in place as joel lost himself on top of the solider, pounding and pounding and pounding his fists in relentlessly, not stopping despite the ache trickling over across his knuckles. 

you heard a sick squelch followed by cracking noises and you knew that should’ve made you fear joel. it should’ve made you run out the door and never look back. but it did the opposite. you never wanted to stay more. 

you watched with wide pupils as he rose up from the beaten and bloodied solider, breathing hard and loud, stumbling upward to a leant stance, staring at the lifeless solider on his wood floors. 

he wiped his nose with the clean, unbloodied slate of his forearm, before dropping it back to his side to lean forward and spit over the body. 

he turned back to you, scanning your face for any hurt, fear or disgust. 

but there was none. 

before you could say anything, he spoke aloud his thoughts. “i gotta get rid of the body.” 

“do you need help?” you extended a hand willing to assist and joel shook his head a hard no. “you saw enough, you don’t need to see more. i’ll be back.” 

you stood up, pressing a hand to his chest, looking at him with watery eyes. he wanted to wipe them away from you, but he couldn’t. not with the blood that was already starting to cake under his nails. 

“joel i want to help.” you admitted, soft voice trembling and joel leaned forward, his face close to yours. “you should probably go sweetheart, you don’t need to get wrapped up further in this.” his words traveled along the coast of a gentle but solid whisper. 

“i don’t want to go.” your voice barely carrying itself loud enough as a reply, eyes following joel’s actions of walking away from you to roll up the soldier in a thin fraying carpet. 

“you should.” is all he said, walking out the door with a body dragging behind him. 

—

you went against any logical thought process whatsoever and stayed. you decided you’d make yourself useful, feeling as though the events that continually replayed in your head felt like your fault. 

you sat on your knees, scrubbing at the blood that had already set in the floors. 

you scrubbed until it hurt, and you kept going despite the fact. you dunked the scrubber into the bucket of soapy water turned brown, squeezing the excess onto the floor before rubbing it in. 

the door clicked open and your head whipped towards it, heart leaping in your chest once you saw joel stumble in. 

“hi.” you breathed and he looked at you with surprise. he saw the work you busied yourself with, locking the door before making his way to you. “what’re you doin’?” he asked gently, yet again in shock at how unabashedly kind you were to him. 

“didn’t want the blood just sitting here on your floors. ‘least i could do since it’s my fault that all happened.” you sniffled, feeling guilty at what had transpired. though the guilt was there, a sense of gratitude was even larger. 

he did that, for you. 

he bent down to catch your watery gaze. “no, no that was not your fault. just got a little carried away. ‘don’t want you thinkin’ that you had anything to do with my choices, okay?” he leaned to the side, catching your eyes that were avoiding his. “okay?” he repeated, waiting for you to say it back to him. 

“okay.” you mouthed just below a whisper. he took the bucket and the scrubber, walking to the sink. you of course, trailed behind him. 

he lifted his sleeves, turning on the faucet to rinse off the dried blood on his hands. 

he picked at under his nails, scraping the blood off wherever he saw it. which was, every inch of his hands. 

his body faced back to you, his now cleaned hands picking up yours, seeing specks of blood and dirt splattered on your hands from cleaning his floor. 

he washed you clean, and all you could do was admire him. how gentle he was taking care of you. he rinsed your skin clear of blood, drying you up and letting your hands rest back to your sides. 

“i’m sorry you had to see that.” he apologized, feeling ashamed of how little he was in control of his anger in that moment. 

you shook your head, hands shakily resting on his chest. “no, i don’t want you to be sorry.” you murmured, eyes landing on his lips. you swallowed back any fears that held you back from showing your affections any longer. 

you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. with a pleasant surprise, he kissed back, no hesitation in his actions. his hold fell to your waist, squeezing, pulling you into him. 

he took in your air, and you gave it to him, happily, willing to offer it in all its abundance. your hand rose to his cheek, palm resting over his beard. his thumb rested on your chin, rubbing it softly. 

he forced himself to pull away, his hands selfishly unable to remove themselves from your waist. “sweetheart this isn’t a good idea. you’re too young, and i’m not a good man. i think i just showed you that.” he tried to warn you, hushed and gently, with honest intentions of keeping you away from something you’d regret being involved with. 

but the only thing you’d regret is never being with him. 

“i’m not, and i don’t care what you do joel, i want you, all of you, want you so bad,” you all but whimpered, trying to press yourself against him more. 

he was a greedy man at heart, pulling you back up for a harder kiss. there was a hot hunger that was electric between you two, a burning ignition that pulled you two in, tying an in separable twine amidst your bodies. but neither of you ever had any intentions of undoing it anyways. 

he held the side of your cheek, the other traveling from your lower back to your ass, squeezing it hard, using his grip to pull you in closer, grinding up against you right there. 

you were so needy for him that it rattled your bones. a wet clicking noise elicited from your mouths, tongues brushing up together messily. your chin dribbling with saliva. 

you moaned in his mouth, feeling the hand that was on your cheek move to hold you by the back of your head, his tilting to kiss you deeper. 

he untangled your lips, keeping himself not even an inch away, just to share the breath between you two. your tongue flicked over his lips, biting down on the bottom one before lurching forward for him once more. 

he groaned in your mouth, lifting his hand to come down and spank your ass. you whined, back arching and crotch brushing up against his. 

you two stumbled towards his bed, your back falling into the mattress. he crawled on top of you, ridding himself of his boots and you of yours. 

his knee rested on one side of your hip, the other coming between your thighs. your chest rose up into his, your back lifting off the sheets and hands coming up to paw at his chest. 

without any reservations, you rubbed against his knee, struggling to kiss him back. “feel good little girl?” he sounded gruff, strained voice trying it’s best to not moan at the way your wet little cunt managed to create a wet spot on his knee. 

“so good joel,” you gaped, kissing his neck desperately. 

“shouldn’t be touchin’ you like this, sweet little thing like you gettin handled by someone like me,” he breathed through a series of heavy pants, his hands wandering all along your sides, your hips, your thighs. 

“don’t want anyone else but you.” you whimpered truthfully, holding his wrist and guiding his hand to your chest, right above your heart. you let it drift to the left, shuddering when he squeezed your breast. 

he kissed your pulse, teeth baring out against it. he rested his hand on your lower belly, rubbing the skin under your tank top. “can i touch you?” he whispered, his beard tickling the space just below your ear. 

you nodded, running your hands all along his strong back. “please,” you bucked your hips upward, begging with not only your words but your body. 

he exhaled out a quiet chuckle, fingers working to undo your jeans, tugging them down until they were forgotten on the floor. 

he dipped down beneath your underwear, his cock throbbing in his boxers at how wet you were. so soaked it was pathetic. he hadn’t let his hand drift down to the sweet place between those thighs of yours til then, and yet you were as wet as if he had his tongue pressed up against you. 

actually, that’s not a bad idea.

he circled around your clit, watching as you revealed in it, his fingers being thicker than yours, making the sensation all the more intense. 

“joel,” you repeated his name, voice wavering in breathy gasps, his fingers rolling the sensitive button of yours. he slipped a finger inside you, eyes peering up and watching as your back rose just a little, hips pressuring downward and further onto his finger, taking him all in. 

“so soft,” he murmured, lowering himself to press a kiss to your hip. he rolled his hips into the mattress, trying ease the pressure building up beneath his jeans. 

he was too turned on, this young pretty girl he’s had his eye on for a year was sprawled in his bed, soft and soaked cunt all ready and pliable just for him and him alone. 

he could die a happy man. 

his lips encircled your clit, tongue drawing around it while he pressed into a familiar spongy spot within you. 

you sucked in a sharp gasp, the sweet sound turning into a high pitched whine. “please,” you sobbed, hands flying down to keep his head in place. 

he fucked you with his fingers, curling right up against the spot that was making you dizzy, his tongue and lips working perfectly on your little clit. 

tears flowed down your face and on his pillow, your hand coming up to your mouth trying to lessen the volume of your cries. 

“j-joel, please i,” unable to formulate any sentences, you just gave up, giving in to your moans. 

the way you squeezed around his fingers, sucking him with greed and need, made him wonder how that’d feel around his cock when he’d get to finally shove it in you. 

he growled at the thought, sucking hard around your clit. you whimpered, pushing down onto his tongue more. 

“s’too much, i cant, i,” your head rolled around his pillow, his scent, his touch, his tongue suffocating you in the most heavenly way possible. 

you squirmed in his hold, unable to escape his grip, unable to escape the way his tongue pressed flat and hard up on your clit. his beard brushed up against your thighs, pulling a giggly moan from you. 

“perfect little pussy,” he grunted, kissing your clit before dragging his tongue slowly, up and down languidly. 

he rested his forearm over your lower tummy, pressing hard and feeling the corner of his lips perk at the way you gasped, shuddering loudly and trembling in his mouth at the action. 

“joel, i think i’m—ooh,” you spoke tearfully, poor little throat already getting hoarse from crying out his name. 

“feels good huh baby,” that little twang in his deep voice curled off his words just right. all you could do was whimper a shaky sogood joel s’good. 

his finger pressed up against that spot inside you, his tongue on your clit being the sweetest cherry on top of the tooth rotting sundae. 

you were cumming, hiccuping his name unashamedly. your plush thighs coming around to cage him in, to which he paid no mind to, if anything it excited him, his rough hands gripping your ass and pulling you deeper into his mouth. 

the wind up deep inside you finally released, flickering flashes of burning hot lights spread across your limbs, slowly fizzling out as you went limp in his bed. 

he didn’t let up however, his tongue grown addicted to the way your perfect clit felt on the wet muscle. 

you whimpered, struggling to push him away from your cunt. it was just too good and he hadn’t had enough yet. 

“joel n-no more s’too much,” you pleaded weakly, and he took slight pity, pressing one last kiss before rising back up to you. 

he pressed his fingers to your lips, groaning quietly with approval at the way you took them in with no verbal orders needed. 

you were so good for him, his sweet little girl. 

he pulled them out, resting on your plump bottom lip before moving it out the way to kiss you. you moaned deeply into his mouth, bringing your arms around him, hands traveling up to his hair. 

his salt and peppered hair felt soft, weaved through your gentle fingers. you lightly tugged on it, feeling mischief in your veins at the ministration. he growled, biting down on your lip and laughing as you yelped. 

he held your jaw, pressing hard kisses all along your face, speaking stilly, his inflection so deep, so masculine, so old and wise, had you hypnotized, his words that were reserved for your ears only, were something you’d cradle to yourself forever. 

“told myself i wouldn’t crack, i wouldn’t have you like this, you’re too young, you don’t know what you want, but fuck,” he dragged his fingers up your folds, chuckling to himself at the way you whimpered, curling into his touch immediately. 

“now that i got you, ‘fraid i can’t let you go sweetheart. i’m a selfish man at heart.” he admitted, kissing your jaw. you just about exploded in that moment. you had no idea he felt the same for you as you did him, and it was the most powerful, enlightening feeling you’ve ever felt. 

“i’m selfish too,” you whispered back, puckering your lips to kiss him. “didn’t let anyone else touch me but you. just wanted you,” you looked up at him from under your eyelashes, unaware to how that little admission made the precum collecting at his tip leak out even more. 

his grasp on your hip tightened, squeezing it as he buried his face in your neck. “fuck baby, gonna give this old man a heart attack sayin’ things like that.” 

your shaky hands went for his belt, tugging on it with need. “want you joel, please?” you begged, lips pressed to his ear. he didn’t need to be begged any more, he undid his belt with one hand, pulling it off his waist, letting it join the pile of your discarded jeans and boots. 

before he could take himself out, your hands found themselves under his flannel, desperate and anxious to see what he’s been concealing away from you. “off, please,” and he wanted to say no, feeling not as proud in his physique as he once was about 20 years ago. 

“nothin special to see baby,” he countered and you shook your head. “it’s you. it’s special to me.” you suspired airily, already feeling your tummy get tight at the thought of him hovering above you, shirtless. 

he took in a deep breath, letting you unbutton his flannel. 

you undid each button, trying your best to not rip them clean off despite your rushing efforts. you slid it off his body, exhaling in awe at the sight in front of you. 

you sucked on your bottom lip, hands traveling across his broad shoulders, fingers tracing his collarbones, dragging around the scarred areas from past wounds, admiring the few freckles on his chest that trail up to his shoulders. 

he watched you, never having felt so admired before. “enjoyin’ yourself baby?” he teased, his thumb rubbing over your chin. 

“mhm,” you nodded, not caring how it looked to be gawking at him. 

you could feel the muscle from the layer of life and age over his stomach, your eyes then falling to the bulge of his biceps, instantly growing obsessed, squeezing at the muscles. 

“you’re so beautiful joel.” you spoke with such true sincerity and he tittered quietly, shaking his head. “thank you baby,” 

your wandering hands finally fell to his jeans, undoing the button and zipper, eager to see what else he’d been keeping away from you. 

he let you, more than ready to feel your touch in the place he craved the most. he was tired of having to fuck his calloused fist, trying hard to pretend it was your cute hand touching him. 

you pulled him out, feeling your jaw go slack at the length of it all. “jesus joel,” you swallowed hard, steadily jerking him off, feeling slightly unsure if you’re doing it right. you were telling the truth, when you said you’d never let anyone touch you, too hopelessly in love with joel to even imagine allowing anyone to see you in the way he’s got you. 

he grunted, unintentionally bucking his hips into the tunnel of your hand. he was thick, heavy in your clutch, veins running along the side of it, his tip round and fat, almost red with droplets of precum leaking out. 

“gonna show you what those little boys could never give you,” he promised, and you believed him, gazing at the way he reluctantly pulled away from your hold, knowing if he let you stroke him any longer he’d cum all over your hand. 

he circled your clit with the head of his cock, shuddering a semblance of a breathy moan at the sensation. “gonna be a bit of a stretch baby, tell me if it’s too much okay? i’ll try to go slow.” he kissed his promises of gentleness into your temple. 

he inched in, hands around either side of your head, foreheads pushed together while your mouth fell open, sucking in all the air in the room. the stretch was very unfamiliar, but not unwelcomed.

you held onto his shoulders for support, grasping onto them tightly, pretty plump trembling lips crying out moans that would replay in joel’s head on lonely nights. you felt fuller than you ever have before joel was even fully inside you. 

he was nudging up against spots in you that you had no idea could feel so good, and if he angled his hips any higher, the fat head of his cock would be kissing your cervix. 

“can barely fit myself in ya’ baby,” he groaned, head falling from your forehead to bury itself in your neck, kissing your hot skin to try to calm him down before he lost control and rammed himself inside you. 

your calves rested on his hips, whimpering while trying to lift yourself up in an attempt to get him to push himself further in. 

“more joel, please?” your pleas were accompanied by sponged kisses just below his ear. “gonna take it all for me baby?” he questioned you, inching in just that much deeper, and you shut your eyes, nails already beginning to crescent themselves in his back. “mhm, gonna take it all,” you swore, more than eager to have him fully within you, as close as could be. 

he jutted his hips in, knocking the wind out of you. you bit down on his shoulder, whining a drool filled mess with the way he started to fuck you, rough hardened hands molding softly around the curves of your waist. 

he was bathing in the way your little cunt took him in, squeezing around him so good just like he knew you would. he took his time, rocking into you in and out, holding your shaking body close to him. 

you could feel every ridge and vein in you, hooked onto the way he filled you up, stretching you beyond belief, making you bounce upward with every movement. 

his hands slid down over the smooth skin of your thighs, widening them further open before pushing them up, growing impatient, achingly hungry to be deeper in you. you struggled for air at his fast actions, eyes immediately rolling back at the way he began to fuck into you. 

“can’t help myself, m’sorry baby, pussy’s too good, shit,” a gruff sigh of relief leaving his mouth at the way you took him in. you didn’t care, you were thrilled to take whatever he gave you, and however hard he saw fit. 

“feels s’good, feel so full,” you cried, translucent tears free falling, the aggressive pistons of his hips causing your swollen clit to ache, begging to be touched. 

“feel me right here huh baby?” he rubbed over the bulge in your tummy and you squealed, wriggling away from the overwhelming stimulation. “ha,” you strung out, arching up into him. 

“yeah, you do,” he taunted breathlessly, loving how you were a wreck beneath him. “in so deep joel,” you mumbled against his shoulder and he kissed your hair, nodding knowingly. “i know babygirl but you’re takin me so well,” he praised, feeling so proud of his sweet girl taking his cock like a pro. 

“never gonna let anyone see you like this?” he pressed deep there, corners of his lips curling when you weep, squeezing at his biceps. “never gonna let anyone have you like this?” you shook your head, sobbing a string of no joel no, never, just you.

“perfect, tight fuckin’ cunt is all for me, aint sharin’ with no one,” he held you by the back of your thighs even further, stressing how serious he was, set on fucking himself into your soaked hole until there was a permanent shape of him within you. a shape no man could ever fit into. 

sobs of uncontrollable pleasure were the only thing you could feel in your veins, pumping your blood full of dopamine. his balls tightened, hitting the fullness of your ass, and he let himself grow sporadic, let himself take you. his fingers found your desperate clit, chuckling to himself when you croon tearfully, thanking him pathetically for touching you. 

“can i cum, please?” your requests only made him twitch inside you, his sweet girl was so polite. “go ahead baby, let it out,” he leaned down to kiss you, swallowing up your moans and cries. 

your body jerked under him, the tight vice of your cunt gripping onto him while he rubbed over your clit, pulling out the second wave of an orgasm from you. 

you broke apart from his lips, still just a breadth of a gasp away from them, brushing up against the ghost of a kiss as you pressed your forehead to his, sobbing his name while your body trembled from how hard you were cumming.  

“shit,” he slammed a hand against the wall above your head, shoving himself impossibly further in you, your legs shaking on either side of him. “good fuckin’ girl, squeezing me so goddamn good,” he fucked you through your orgasm, kneading over your breasts, groping at them and pinching at your pebbling nipples. 

you fell limp, letting yourself drown in the unraveling lengths of your climax. 

“gonna cum baby, where d’you want it?” he asked, feeling his lower stomach start to tighten up. “inside, wanna feel all of you,” you whined, kissing all along his shoulder and collarbones, messy and ravenous. 

his face fell to the crook of your neck, biting down on your soft flesh when he came, impaling you once, twice, ending it with one last hard thrust as he came in you, pumping you full of his cum. 

he didn't feel himself soften inside you, but with each of the passing minutes he decided he’d better pull out then or else he’d never leave. you winced from the removal, arms coming around to hold him with a clinginess.

he collapsed on top of you, and you sighed contently, the full weight of him resting on you could’ve honestly sent you into the deepest nap you’d ever have.  

you felt his cock, still hardened on your thigh. with sleepy eyes you looked up at him, lips on his stubbly jaw when you spoke. "you're still hard," you murmured. his fingers drew up and down your spine, and you shivered, arching yourself into him.

"that's okay, it'll go down soon." his throat got tight when he felt you wrap your hand around him once more. "we don't...have to ignore it." you trailed off, bitten lips pressing delicate kisses laced with ulterior motives into his tanned skin.

you wanted joel to use you as many times as he wanted to, a new compulsion flowing rampantly in your veins. now that you had finally gotten a taste of joel, you wanted to gorge yourself on him.

"you sure you can take it?" he asked through a hushed breath of arousal. you nodded, kissing at his lips with need.

he didn't need to be told twice, he repositioned you, letting you fall back onto his pillow with him hovering above you. he rolled you onto your stomach, holding you by your hip to lift you just enough for him to shove his flannel right against your cunt.

his rough palms encased your ass, groping at the thick flesh. he dipped down, spreading your ass and watching as his cum poured out of you. he groaned quietly to himself. you whimpered, turning to look over your shoulder as joel pushed his fingers inside, shoving his cum back into you. your chin dropped, face falling back into his pillow when he pumped his fingers inside you, chuckling darkly to himself at the way your ass squirmed against him.

every little swivel your hips made was met with friction from his flannel on your clit. the hem of it just so happened to be pressed right there. he slapped his cock over on your ass, exhaling loudly at the way it jiggled from his actions.

he aligned himself once more with your little hole, pushing himself in with ease due to the slick left from a mixture of his cum and yours. you whined, hands flying backward, desperate for any solace from his hands in yours. he held your wrists at the small of your back with one hand, the other supporting his weight to lean forward when he pushed himself all the way inside you. you cried out, his name falling out of your mouth like a mantra, your legs trembling beneath him.

he was in you so much deeper this way, stretching you out more than you thought he already could. his hips snapped up against your  ass, fully within you and hitting every single tingly spot inside you along the way.

you were already out of breath, your lungs and brain vacant of anything except for him, for joel. "feel you in my tummy," you hiccuped, tilting your head to look at him through teary eyes. he breathed out a lazy, cocky laugh, moving forward to kiss your forehead, unintentionally shoving his cock in even deeper, feeling a sense of pride at the way you gasped and whimpered at the deep intrusion.

"i know huh baby?" he chuckled in your ear, and you shivered, feeling your face grow warm from how flustered he made you feel. he was so dirty, any filters he once had were gone, the tight grip your cunt had on his cock made him downright ruthless.

he pressed his hands at your lower back, letting yours fall free to cling onto his sheets. he held you down that way, fucking into you with a newfound source of energy, his grey hairs falling over his forehead, sweat glistening over the ripples of muscles along his biceps and abdomen, his whole being going into pounding himself into you.

he wanted you to be so full of him that everyone would know it just by looking at you. the possessiveness he tried to suppress for so long had come out, and he wasn't sure if he could go back to hiding it again. but that wasn't on his mind, not when you were clenching around him, sobbing his name loud enough for everyone outside to hear.

his grunting fell to your ears, it was near pornographic, including the way you bounced with each and every thrust of his, just watching it made his chest get tight.

he needed you closer.

he pulled you back up from under your arms, keeping you flush against his chest while he continued fucking you. you were growing limp, body worn out from the rigor he put you through. but he held onto you, keeping you in his arms. his arm went under your tits, a sneaky hand coming up and groping at one, pinching at the nipple.

he buried his face in your neck, filling your ear with the low growl of his groans. "such a good girl, letting me fuck you like this, but i think you like it, and you know what else?," he drew in a heavy breath, "i think you like being fucked like a little ragdoll," you couldn't answer, he was right, but you could hardly focus on any words, his cock rendering you a teary eyed moaning mess.

"can't even respond when spoken to," he slowed the roll of his hips, hitting you in deep and slow, letting you hear him instead of the loud wet rhythm of your cunt being fucked into. "that's okay, i'll still take care of you," he chuckled, returning back to his rough pace.

"so good, make me feel so good joel," you managed to finally cry out in a series of strewn moans. his fingers trailed themselves down to your clit, rubbing in tight little circles. " i know baby, cum for me, show me how good i make you feel."

you wriggled around in his hold, your third orgasm of the night was thick in heft, a heavy wave of intense stimulation clearing your vision and leaving a white glittering hue instead. you felt joel everywhere, from the way he was buried in your cunt, to the way his hips were clasped over the curve of your ass, fitting into you like a puzzle piece.

the fervent circles being drawn over your clit was the thing that pushed you over, your head falling backward onto his shoulder, his turn to be serenaded by a string of your pretty moans. "good babygirl, did so good for me." he cooed in your ear, pressing a kiss behind it. "thank you," you meekly replied in a breathless voice.

you were the weakest you've ever felt, your poor spent body still being held upright as joel chased down his own orgasm. "gonna let me cum in you again baby? want more of it?" he panted in your ears. "please, want it joel, please,"

he gripped onto your hips, feeling his own stutter, before he pushed in deeply, stilling inside as he came in thick ropes. he finally softened, slowly pulling out of you. you winced again at the loss, feeling suddenly cold and empty. you collapsed on his bed, reaching out for him.

he laid beside you, pulling your leg up and over his waist, running a hand up the expanse of your thigh. your eyes fell shut tiredly, enjoying the comfortable sound of the two of you trying to catch your breaths.

a part of you was worried he was going to break the silence, afraid he'd call the whole thing a mistake, and lecture you on how he isn't the type of man who does relationships. you knew all of that, you just hoped he wouldn't say it and just let you soak in the moment.

almost nervously, his hand came to dance across your cheekbone softly, wanting to memorize the way your skin felt to his. "do you regret that?" he murmured and you opened your eyes, shocked at the question.

you leaned into his hand, curling your own over his. "no, never joel, why would you ask that?"

he sighed, scooting closer to you. "I'm not a good man, sweetheart, i'm giving you a chance to leave." he spoke above an octave of silence. you frowned, shaking your head. "i don't care about anything that you've done in the past or what you'll do in the future. i just...want to be here, with you, in any way you'll let me." you admitted, wishing you could say the one thing you've been harboring for a year, but you knew you needed to keep that to yourself just a little longer.

"if i had a bigger conscious i wouldn't let you," his hands pulled you into the hold of his arm that came over your waist. "lucky for me then that you're not the good man you claim to be." you whispered, the scent of coffee on your breath enveloping his senses, and in that moment, he had a realization.

he thought about how nice, how domestic it would be to wake up and share a cup of coffee with you every morning, before you had to face the day, at least you could share a moment of peace together.

"yeah," a trace of a smile grew over his lips. "you're right. i'm not." he rolled on top of you, cupping your cheeks in his large palms. "you're makin' an unwise choice little girl," a quiet rumble rested on your lips.

your arms came around his shoulders and you sighed a half laugh. "i know. i don't care."

Kumagaya City Suzume Shrine’s Suzume Ema Book states that an ema artist from Kumagaya City drew Kamioka Kannon and Suzume Shrine (according to one theory, Tokoji Temple) votive plaques. Text by 快人妖奇七郎・一休ちゃんでありんす @ikkyujapan

came home drunk last night and got way too excited to see my cat

cat who hacksd the no fly list literally my hero

I tried something new. Writing a Middle Earth story about young Fili and Kili and Uncle Thorin. I was inspired by this amazing piece of art by @sugarsu Here is the link to the original post. If you like the artwork, please consider reblogging the original post as well.

In the woods of Ered Luin

Summary: Uncle Thorin is taking care of young Fili and Kili and they visit the woods in the area of Ered Luin, The Blue Mountains. Just a lot of fluff and a somewhat anxious Thorin at times, but we all know the boys, so we can't really blame him 😉

divider created by me

It was still early, but Fili and Kili had already been running around since their eyes had opened to a beautiful day in Ered Luin. Dis and Thorin were sitting at the kitchen table, quietly drinking their coffee and listening to the chatter and laughter of the boys. Thorin usually didn’t have a lot of time, so he valued these family moments very much.

Thorin had offered to spend the day with his little nephews. His dear sister Dis had gratefully accepted the offer and looked forward to having some time to herself. But as soon as Thorin had offered to take the boys, next to excitement a little pang of fear hit him. What mayhem would he encounter this fine day? Nothing ever did not happen, something always did.

Thorin mustered up his courage and got up to fetch the boys. When he saw a heap of pebbles, blankets, pillows and a cat on top of it, he wondered what had happened in the few minutes he had taken his eyes off of them. Shaking his head, he said, 'Come on boys, get your coats, put on your boots.’

The heap of blankets, pillows, pebbles and cat immediately came apart and two pairs of eyes looked at him questioningly. 'Where are we going uncle Thorin?' they asked. 

“You’ll see. Now come on, get ready,’ he told them.

Not long after, they entered the forest near the Blue Mountains. It was a beautiful day so far, but the big furry clouds in the distance promised some well deserved rain for the plants and wildlife in the forest. The leaves were softly rustling in the breeze, birds were chirping and singing, insects buzzing. The forest was so full of life, yet so peaceful. 

Kili was jumping and running around. There was so much to see. Flowers, plants, little rocks, insects. Thorin smiled. That boy never seemed to run out of energy. Fili was usually much more reserved and quiet. He was walking alongside Thorin, observing the woods, asking him all kinds of questions and Thorin was answering them patiently.

‘What animals will we see today uncle Thorin?’ Fili asked. ‘Will there be moose? And wolves? What about bunnies? Oh look, uncle Thorin, what kind of bird is that?’ his little fingers pointing at a bird with a bright red chest, singing its morning song on one the branches of a big oak tree.

Thorin cringed at the idea of encountering a wolf and the pebbles being in danger, but he didn’t have a lot of time to think about it, for Kili came running up to him. 

‘Look uncle Thorin, look what I have!’ he exclaimed enthusiastically. He was holding something in his tiny hands, careful not to drop it. Thorin crouched down. ‘What have you got there little man?’ 

Kili opened his little hands and a black spider crawled out. ‘You can have it uncle Thorin,’ he said proudly and with a big grin on his face. ‘I fetched it for you.’

Oh dear, how to get himself out of that situation.

‘I think the spider is …,’ he started

‘Ciaran’,  Kili said.

‘What?’ Thorin looked at Kili, confused.

‘It’s name is Ciaran,’ Kili explained.

Thorin raised his eyebrows at that and scratched his beard. Wow, he had only just found the spider and it already had a name as if it were part of the family and needed to be taken up in the Durin family tree.

The new addition to the line of Durin was quickly forgotten though, when a rustle of leaves alerted Thorin and he looked in the direction of the sound. The word ‘wolves’ still fresh in his mind, he grabbed Kili and told him to be quiet. He checked on Fili, who was crouching down beside Thorin, imitating his uncle and all three of them looked in the direction of the moving bushes nearby.

A little spooked by Fili’s question about wolves, Thorin wished that he had brought his sword. He held his breath, but he sighed with relief when a deer and a fawn appeared and not a big bad wolf. 

‘Oh look uncle Thorin,’ Kili pointed at the fawn, ‘A baby deer! Can we go pet it?’ he asked excitedly.

‘No, Kili,’ Thorin said, ‘They are erm … having breakfast. It’s best to leave them be.’ 

Kili sighed disappointedly and Thorin chuckled.

‘Come on boys, let’s go about our way. There is a stream not far from here.’ 

That also got Fili excited and both pebbles ran ahead, their chatter and laughter echoing between the trees. It warmed Thorin 's heart to see them so excited and happy. With a smile on his face, he followed his nephews in the direction of the stream. 

The clouds, which had seemed so far away at the start of their walk, now gathered above them, hiding the sun and making the forest a little darker. Drops of rain started to fall and the calming sound of the raindrops falling on the foliage and the fresh smell of wet earth had a calming effect on Thorin. All anxiety about wolves forgotten. 

He loved the woods, the sounds, the smells. He filled his lungs with a deep breath of fresh air and for a moment closed his eyes and held his face up to the sky, the fresh rain drops gently falling on his face, his beard and his long, dark hair, which was held back with a beautiful handcrafted clip in the form of a raven. 

He stood there, enjoying the moment, but then, at once, snapped back to reality. It had gone quiet. Even though shouting and noise usually didn’t mean anything good when the boys were concerned, neither did absolute silence. He quickened his pace and almost tripped over a boot and another one and another. He followed the trail of boots, picking them up. Apparently, the boys had decided that they no longer needed those. 

He approached the stream and saw Fili crouched down, his blue cape over his head and his chin resting in the palm of his hand.  Kili was perched on his hands and knees on a flat stone in the stream.  They were studying a black bird which was hopping from stone to stone in the stream. The bird paused, sat on a stone and curiously turned its head from side to side, seemingly as curious as the boys. It was altogether a peaceful sight, the dripping sound of the raindrops making little circles in the water, the gently flowing stream, and the boys watching the bird, watching the boys.

Thorin crouched down next to Fili and put his big hand on Fili’s tiny shoulder. So that’s why the little rascals had gone quiet, he thought and smiled.

‘Can we keep him uncle?' Kili asked, breaking the silence. ‘Can we take him home so that we can show him to amad?’

‘No my dear boy, your mother wouldn’t be very happy if you took a bird home. It lives here, in the forest, you know. This is its home.  Everyone and everything has its own place in this world and the woods is where the bird belongs. It would be sad if it had to leave his home. You don’t want it to be sad, do you?’

Thorin heard himself say the words and for a moment sadness hit him. His thoughts went to Erebor, his home, where he belonged and which he had been forced to leave and for which he longed with all his heart. One day, he would return to the Lonely Mountain. He was sure of it.

He didn’t have long to think about it, because a frog hopped out of the water, onto the stone chasing off the bird. 

Kili giggled and reached for the frog. ‘Can we take …’ he started.

‘No, Kili, we can’t take the frog home either,’ Thorin said sternly, but he had a hard time keeping a straight face. Kili seemed to want to take home every animal and insect he encountered. Thorin was sure that Dis wouldn’t appreciate a zoo in her home. 

After a moment, Thorin got up and said, ‘Come on boys, put your boots back on. Let’s go see if amad has something nice to fill your bellies ok? You must be hungry after all these adventures.’ 

With that, the frog was all about forgotten, the boys hurried to put their boots on and off they went with Thorin in tow. Thorin was quietly enjoying the walk back home, while Kili and Fili chased after butterflies, found treasures - read 'stones' - along the way, chased each other and left Thorin wondering if he, Frerin and Dis had ever had the same amount of energy as these two boys. 

The rain had stopped, the sun had broken through the clouds, its rays illuminating the way home and he couldn’t have been more relaxed.

By the time they got home, Thorin was quite proud of himself that so far, the day had passed without any incidents and mayhem under his supervision. He was grateful for the family time, but also, deep down, grateful to be handing them back over to their mother, his dear sister, whom he admired more and more, every time he looked after the boys.  But also deep down, he longed for another day with his nephews, whom he loved as if they were his own sons.

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