tee hee

21, she/they

[cigaretteleggedjeans]

* ‧₊‎‧₊˚‧₊˚✧Intro to me✧˚₊‧‧₊⋅* * ‧₊‎‧

‧˚꒰🐾꒱༘⋆ I’m ciggy! 21, she/they, queer

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 i’ll most likely only post fanfic stuff. maybe my spiraling thoughts 𖦹°‧

✎𓂃.⋆♱ things i like, outlast trials, jjk, fields of mistria, creepy pastas, and movies! also im open to pretty much anything.

Fanfics here.

letterboxed .𖦹°‧ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ𖦹. pinterest

[geekazoidfreak]

do we agree chat

[cigaretteleggedjeans]

run and confess

summary - toby confesses, after getting a little carried away (toby rogers x fem!reader) 18+ characters

CW- alcohol, primal play, slight necro, mouth gash makeout, erotic.

1,308 words

it’s another late night at the mansion with Slender gone. everyone drinking, attempting to find absolutely anything to pass the time. An argument breaks out between Brian and Jeff, Tim stepping in to settle it.

Annoyed with the bickering you stand, playfully rolling your eyes, smiling, you grab two buzzballs, stuffing them in your hoodie pocket, ”i’m going for a walk.” you announce before sharing a glance with toby, he watches until you round the corner.

you reach the back screen door, pushing it open, the screech of the rusty spring peaking your eardrum. ‘jesus, someone needs to oil that thing’. you think letting the door slam shut.

Finding a spot on the porch stairs, you sit leaning against the railing, the cold air nipping at your cheeks. you take out the drinks from your pocket, placing one on the porch planks beside you, and opening the other, taking a big gulp, the heavy alcohol taste makes your face scrunch, causing you to breathe through your mouth in an attempt to mask the burn.

Feeling that stinging sensation set in your stomach, you chug the rest finishing it off, wanting to get tipsy quick. The heat finally reached your face, warming you from the chill breeze.

you find yourself mindlessly tracing the rim of the unopened can, after a few minutes you step off the stairs leaving the drink where you placed it.

you’ve been walking for a bit, keeping a steady pace, your vison slightly swaying each step you take. now surrounded in trees, the moon covered by the clouds, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea you think,

taking your flashlight out. shining the light every which way, laughing at the dizziness it brings. you hear the snap of a branch behind you, you spin around, stumbling a bit, startled, you find nothing and carry on shrugging it off to be some critter.

reaching a clearing in the trees, you can’t help but feel like eyes are watching you, you shine the dim light once more, your breath catching swearing you seen a figure duck behind a tree.

“hello?” you swallow hard.

silence.

the camera flashlight shaking in time with your hand. seeing nothing, you turn picking up the pace. everytime you step another heavier one follows shortly after.

your heart beat ricocheting against your chest urging you something dangerous is nearby. you break into a light jog as the footsteps become more apparent.

You aren’t alone.

your body’s tense, and your chest is tight, you can’t help but break out into a full sprint, jumping and weaving through the trees, the adrenaline coursing through you, you look back once to see if you can see what’s chasing you. all you catch is a humanoid looking figure.

all of the stress building up inside you, the exhaust finally catching up, you can’t help but say something “what are…you doing??” you scream out of breath.

the figure chuckles, as if he’s enjoying taunting you. the laugh was familiar, while still running you try to piece together whose voice sounds like that, realizing that what’s chasing you is toby you can’t help but break out into a laugh too. although it’s more of a choking fit given you’ve been running for awhile.

knowing what’s going on you decide to weave through more trees, zig zagging around them. your heart fluttering at the thought of toby stalking and chasing you, the fear turned to excitement.

But the exhaust hits you at once, your feet slowing, body aching, and head pounding. you need an out so you turn once more diving down a short hill embracing the fall you roll. coming to a complete stop, you childishly pretend to play dead.

toby takes a bit to get to you, you’ve caught your breath, taking small breathes to calm your beating heart. trying to be as still as possible.

toby circles around you, keeping his gaze on your limp body. almost dropping to his knees convinced you hit your head, you can’t help but smile slightly, the tension growing between you two.

peeking your eye open you see his hair a mess sticking to his forehead, his eyes burning holes into you.

Toby finally breaks the silence playing along, “i don’t mind chasing what i need to, but i usually catch them sti-ill breathing.” he leans down close to your chest, watching intently, you hold your breathe.

he drifts close to you his breath hot against your face, you give in, the smell of alcohol matching the one you left on the porch. “you’ve got-tta be the prettiest cor-fuck-corpse i’ve ever seen.” your cheeks betray you, flushing red.

He moves from your face down to your bare legs. “what a waste o-of a bo-dy” he gently grazes his fingers over your ankles, up to your knee, the sensation bringing goosebumps throughout your body. he slows watching your reactions to his touch, before continuing toward your thighs, the heat between your thighs beating as he gets closer.

leaving the ache, his hands trail up your hips, tracing the button to your shorts, your stomach slightly exposed, he brings his lips close, you swallow hard. his warm breathe washing over you, the goosebumps reaching your arms, your nipples hard, he pecks the skin, your breathing hitched. he smiles into the kiss.

His touch bringing arousal to your pants. he continues up with his hands, grazing your nipple, you jolt, “rigor mortis settl-ling already i see” he reaches your face again, hovering, you peek your eye open once more his eyes locked on your lips, watching in hunger. your lips subconsciously part. as an invitation he crashes into yours, you kiss back, he flips so his elbows are on either side of your head, your hands reach up grabbing his face, your thumb resting against his slick molars through his gash.

his tongue dancing with yours you cant help but moan into it. your move your legs on either side of his, your hands reach down to his sides pulling him closer. the feeling of his hard cock pressed against you makes him whimper. he pulls away, keeping his hips in place. “is th-this okay, with y-ou? i didn’t even a- fuck-ask”

you don’t speak, still acting as a corpse even if you’re very clearly coherent, you watch his swollen lips, his dilated pupils, the hunger still in his eyes. the way his chest heaves against you.

you grab his face bringing him closer, turning him so his mouth gash faces you, you bring your tongue to it softly licking around the scaring, his hips buck against you, ‘ahh- what are you d-doing” he whines. your tongue slides over his teeth, dipping to reach the gummy texture. you grind your hips, feeling the way he throbs above you.

Prodding your tongue through his molars you find his tongue, twisting and turning, spit pooling everywhere, he sticks his tongue through the gash, you suck, pulling him in closer, “nghh-“ he moans, you’re gripping at his hair tugging every so often, his hips rutting against you, pressure building.

he pulls away, not wanting to finish so early. a string of spit connects you to his gash. you sit up, Toby straightens, you lift his hand taking his hoodie sleeve to wipe your face and his.

“prettiest corpse you’ve ever seen huh?” you speak up playfully, tussling his hair.

his face flushed, “i meant that.” he thinks for a second. “i’ve liked you for aw-awhile now, didn’t know how to tell you.” he pulls his knees to his chest.

“an interesting way to confess.” you stand reaching your hand down to him. “but i enjoyed it nonetheless.” he takes your hand. “i like you too toby, let’s continue this in your room yeah?” he leans down planting a kiss to your lips.

“lead the way angel”

credits - @tiredofthehumanlife , this was their idea i just wanted to write it out!!

read my other ticcy toby fic here

[evilbabything]

dead boys don’t say no

. . .in which you’re Carl Grimes undead boyfriend

1,237 words

hurt/vague comfort, crude, no smut.

you were beautiful once. it was the first thing carl had noticed when coming to alexandria, even with his guard up.

he hadn’t seen many people his age around for so Long, and he was a teen boy.

it was only natural you were quickly put on a pedestal as the shining star in carls sky, the Apple of his eye, the goddamn light of his Life. . and all those cheesy things.

where one of you went the other wasn’t far behind. scavenging? side by side. reading comics in carls room? legs intertwined. just Strolling the neighborhood? hand in hand.

both of you knew the cruelties of life outside of the wall and took supply runs Very seriously.

that’s why it was such a surprise when Carl came back with blood on his shirt and no You by his side.

everybody from his dad to deanna had tried to pry it out of him, but the most they got was a solemn shake of his head and a press of his lips.

there wasn’t a Body to mourn over, or a big family to miss you, but people still tried. your empty gravesite even got the odd flower from someone besides carl.

when he started being more closed off no one blinked an eye. he’d just lost his Boyfriend, and people were giving him space to grieve.

and then when he started going to some place no one could find him for hours? still, no one thought more than grief to blame.

rick and michonne were off doing their leadership duty, keeping the people safe while judith was being taken care of by carol.

the house was quiet. still. Carl had been lying in bed all day, feet kicked in the air as he read comic after comic. no one expected much from him right now besides coming down to eat. after all, it’s only been a Week since that day.

eventually, after he grows restless, he decides to get up and with a comic in hand and a place in mind.

carl was quick to make himself all pretty, AKA brushing his hair out and putting on a new flannel, before thumping out of his house.

he walked around the backs of the houses, not feeling in the mood to talk to anyone or receive those Pitying looks of theirs.

people bustle around, making life better, Helping others, but what good is it if you’re not here?

he makes it to the far edge of the neighborhood undetected. a vacant house sits at the end of the street. he spares a weary glance around before walking up the porch.

the house is Empty but perfectly pristine, all but begging to be used by a happy family.

humming to himself he scours the pantry, only a few cans of soup or packets of saltines still there from his earlier visits.

he decides on chicken noodle soup, slipping it to sit snuggly into his jeans front pocket, his feet on wooden floors the only sound.

the basement is a bit more hidden, almost looking like a storage closet from the outside. he thumps down the stairs like he’s been down them 100x over.

the smell of Rot and Mildew hit before anything. he’s learned to grow used to the scent, maybe even Fond towards it.

just in case, he settles one hand on the holster at his hip before pushing the metal door before him open.

muffled snarling and growling sounds out in the little room, then, there You are.

like some fucked up sort of dog he’d attached a rope to the wall and tied it tightly around your stomach. it’d broken off Once before he’d learned to apprehend your hands and mouth at all times.

“you’re gonna chafe your wrists at this rate,” carl muses with a tilt of his head, slender fingers tugging at the belt of his around your wrists.

the rope pulls taut as you attempt to lunge at him, mouth moving behind the bindings, arms uselessly held out.

he just smiles and watches, knowing it’s unlikely you’ll get out but Loving that you still have fight in you even now.

from being chained up 24/7, the skin there is faring better than expected. it’s once soft, smooth appearance has decayed, leaving it wrinkled and peeling back like a wrapper to the wet muscle hidden beneath.

he clicks his tongue but doesn’t loosen the belt, because why would he when you can’t even Feel it? plus, he doesn’t need your hands.

your skin is slowly greying as are your hazy eyes that flutter every which way. the large bite that’d been taken out of you had been patched up, but always weeping red.

to him you’re still same old you, just a bit different.

“i brought you some Food.” he informs you, pleased as pie with himself. he holds out the can of chicken noodle soup for you to inspect. your greying feet scrape uselessly against the floor.

he takes that as Interest and pops the can open by the tab, Slowly approaching as to cradle the side of your face.

your head snaps to the side, mouth still moving like a teething animal. the fabric restraining you wet and smelling of rot.

“this is your favorite, remember?” carl asks rhetorically. bringing the can closer to your nose. you try lunging again, the metal can catching just a Scrape of your nose, which makes a wrinkled piece of skin fall into the stew.

carl simply blinks, looks down into the can, and then back up to you. well, maybe you’ll like it better that way, you never eat this stuff anyway.

Gently, cautiously, he pulls the bind away from your mouth. you snap your rotting teeth, drool and blood wetting the skin underneath.

he doesn’t seem to notice it as he brings the can to your mouth, hand holding the bottom. your teeth cling against it, chicken noodle soup falling to the floor with wet splats and snarling.

he coos, even rubbing at your messy chin with his flannel before you try to lunge again. “don’t be bad, now.” he reprimands you sternly, reaching around to wrangle the fabric back up.

it’s like fighting a child, your head going every which way in protest. he gets it up with a bit of fight but No nibbling.

he places the remaining food at your feet in case you want it later.

two fingers coax your cold face towards him, wanting to make sure not more than a bit of flesh had been harmed even if Nothing can really harm you now.

he leans in slowly, eyes falling closed with a lingering kiss to the fabric binding your mouth, not wanting to risk another Accident by taking it off. you taste like rot and blood. like Roadkill.

he pulls back, staring at you, maybe hoping true loves kiss will turn you back. it doesn’t. he turns back around to the corner of the room.

plopping himself down, knees drawn to his chest, he pulls out the comic book he’d brought. every now and again he’ll glance back up at you starry eyed.

the room is perfect to lounge about in for the rest of the day, away from everyone else with the sound of your Cute little snarls to accompany him.

he loves you, and nothing’ll ever stop that.

AN:if this flops i’m gonna just delete it and pretend it never happened

criticism welcome/encouraged. read my other stuff here. requests open

[evilbabything]

halloween

. . .the only night you and your boyfriend can prowl unnoticed.

606 words

fluff.!!!!

“hurry Up!” toby moans out for the 100th time in the last minute, splayed out on your guys stained mattress like a starfish.

you pretend not to hear him, applying another layer of mascara. it’s not often you get to go Out without the need to sneak around.

the slendermansion is Alive with a surprising buzz tonight, everyone splitting off into their little cliques to enjoy the festivities.

it’s the one night no weird looks are tossed anybody’s way, only Candy.

toby moans again, loud, unashamed, sounding more like Smile dog than a human. you smile to yourself and stand up, smoothing fake dirt away from yourself.

of course, toby is on you like a bloodhound in an instant, hands groping every little piece of flesh he can get ahold of in that greedy way of his. “look Suh-so scary.” he even croons out teasingly.

soon enough the both of you are in the Fresh air with a singular pillowcase to share between the two of you and booze on your breath.

the thicket of woods around the mansion seem to tear the both of you Every which way tonight, but you both just laugh and cling to one another.

when you finally make it out onto a Real street you scan the rows of houses, lost in the crowd of costumes and fake gore.

toby silent points to a house with a Long line of kids (and their parents). you can see Full size candy bars being exchanged and nod solemnly in agreement.

time is money, and Money is candy. . which means it’s worth the wait.

everyone in line seems about four heads shorter than the two of you, which you both pointedly ignore.

the line Slowly dissipates, and leaves you both smack at the front of it. the older couple gives you a look that screams ‘aren’t you too old for this?’ but dulls out the candy bars anyway.

toby gets to gnawing his down like a rabid beast, while you plunk yours in the pillow case, One piece of candy up.

it only takes about 9 more houses before toby’s whining and draping himself over your back like a limpet. “we hardly have Anything, toby.” you remind him, wiggling the bag upwards.

he responds by trying to take another piece but gets caught with a smack to his wiggling little fingers.

toby grumbles something under his breath (“it’s m-muh-my candy too. .”), but ultimately lets his hands drape back at your shoulders.

you guys pass by a little house before doing a double take. it’s sprawling with Young adults, most scandalously dressed. sharing a glance you decide to take a minor detour.

in the first minute being in the house it becomes clear it’s some sort of Frat or Sorority, though it doesn’t matter which, because you’ve found free booze.

the both of look young enough to not be questioned about your affiliation as you guzzle down cheap alcohol in the kitchen.

some guy smacks into toby’s shoulder, making his scrawny, Drunken form waiver like a piece of grass in the wind. the guy mumbles a ‘Sorry’ and ‘nice costume’ while pointing at the very real gash in toby’s cheek.

toby nods along in a wordless thanks, smugly looking over at you as if he’d Really made his ‘costume’.

a heavy bass buzzes in your belly, the house Warm from the other bodies shoved in. toby leans his head on your shoulder.

“duh-do you wanna go m-m-makeout in a random bedroom?” he asks, which you quickly jump on with a nod of your head.

seems halloween this year was a Success.

AN: can u tell im in a spooky mood. heh. i even made the divider myself isn’t it awesum

read my other stuff pls pls. …..requests open

[cigaretteleggedjeans]

if i don’t get my dihh wet i might end it all

[evilbabything]

when toby thinks shits sweet so i genuinely start driving 90mph on the backroads to trigger his ptsd

[billdickeybeam]

the tender surrender

🪓🪓 toby rogers x reader

warning: cigarette burns, light masochism, mention of scars, mouthplay, fingers in mouth, smoking, erotic situation but no smut

wc : 1.7k

The wind was harsh. It whipped through the forest, played the trees like a flute, wrestled from them an ominous whistle that was audible even from the roof of the mansion.

You’d been half convinced you were going to die on the way up, as you'd followed Toby blindly (as usual), keeping your eyes on his back as he guided you out of his windowsill and along the siding.

Your skin stung with barely-there scrapes dotted up and down your bare knees and palms. Much to your delight, Toby had actually looked a little worried a few of the times you’d pretended to start slipping.

You’d only actually slipped once. That time he’d laughed.

For your benefit, you’d wrapped yourself in one of the dollar store blankets that were stored around the mansion in case of cold nights like this. Nina might’ve gotten this particular one, you thought, since it was distinctly pink and polka-dotted.

(By ‘gotten’, you really meant ‘stolen’. None of you had much in terms of money. There was no need for it. Still, given the blanket’s humble beginnings, it was annoyingly thin. You had to force yourself to bite back a shiver… embarrassing.)

Toby, on the other hand, seemed fine. Or maybe his hoodie was just that insulated. He was bubbling over with a familiar restless, jerky energy, rocking vaguely back and forth and taking intermittent pulls from a roughed-up cigarette that was probably one of Tim’s.

After attempting a deep inhale, his eyes went wide and he doubled over, chest pressed to his knees as he coughed and sputtered for air.

“Lightweight! Lightweight!” You leered, eyeing him from where you sat on the roof.

The two of you were a foot or so apart, close enough where the stink of his cigarette was invading your personal area, but you didn’t move away. The smell was familiar, almost comforting for a reason that was hard to place. Thinking about it-- or anything pertaining to your past-- made a splitting pain crawl up the side of your temple, so you didn’t. Instead you focused on the tile sticking irritatingly into your thigh.

“T- th..hhhat doesn’t…” He took in another breath, “D-doesn’t even mmmean anything with cigarettes... Idiot.” He huffed, hitting his chest with a fist as he took a few shaky inhales. To his credit, he recovered surprisingly quickly.

“Mmmmand anyways, I have to breathe it in all at,” His eyes blinked roughly, “All at, ugh… all at once because of this… f.. fuh- fucking thing,” He tilted his scarred cheek towards you and stuck his tongue out of the hole, poking the tip of it with his finger. “So ‘s a little harder than usual.”

“Shiiiit dude. I didn’t even think about that.” You relented, tilting closer to peer at it. Curiosity was ever your vice.

God, it looked gnarly, scar tissue wrapping around the gaping hole in the side of his face that led to crooked, yellow molars and dirty gums.

“Mhm.” He hummed, eyeing the cigarette like a challenge before dipping down and leaning over his knees again to take another drag.

You mirrored him and leaned your head on your knees to watch him, like he was your own personal TV show. Wasn’t like you got much to watch out at the mansion anyways.

“Kinda wanna stick my fingers in.” You mused. He didn’t react much, just blew the smoke out of his mouth in a lazy fog.

His eyes met yours from where his head lay on his knees. He lifted the cigarette up to his mouth just to chew on the edge of it with his canine. It seemed the thought was worth his consideration, at least. White paper crinkled beneath his teeth.

“Mmmmmmm… yeah.” He said, angling himself to face you just slightly more, “I-” he began, before his shoulder jerked up to his shoulder. Something popped in his neck and he winced. “Urgh… I will if you let m…muh- me put this out. Onn.. your arm.”

Your eyebrows raised. You felt a dull pulling feeling in some tendon of yours on your arm, but it went away quickly. Punctuated with another shiver, you wrestled your arm from beneath where you’d wrapped yourself securely in your blanket and held it out in the biting wind. He eyed it.

“Hold me still.” You said.

One calloused hand found your wrist, holding it tightly, and you wondered if that’s how it felt when he held down his victims. You wondered how much pressure he applied. Something spiked in your pulse. The smoke ebbing from his cigarette sharply switched direction as the wind howled, whipping your hair into your face. You flicked it out of the way with a jerk of your chin.

He took one last drag deep into his lungs, directly from the cig to his lungs, then pursed his lips and puffed it all out towards you. The wind shoved it out of the way before it could even get to you, sending a a brief flash of annoyance through you. Whatever. Maybe next time.

As you were imagining the two of you, maybe in the basement, Toby leaning over you and blowing smoke into your pores, you felt a sudden sharp pain shoot up your arm and into your throat.

You made a sound pathetically, some strangled half-gasp-half-yelp that had your fingers curling into your palm and body recoiling. Toby had been quick, pressing the cigarette up against the smoothness of your arm, quick enough to give you zero time to process what was happening, surely too quick for you to prepare yourself. It wasn’t the most pain you’d ever experienced, not by a long shot, but it was unexpected, and the surprise somehow made it more poignant.

He held it there, watching your arm, watching you, watching the air hiss out from between your teeth as the residual heat crawled up your arm with razor fingers. Your wrist flexed beneath his grip. The pain finally started to mellow out, dipping and dulling into something rounder and easier to manage.

A snicker left him and he dug the bud harder into your skin, grinning even wider as you flinched. His tongue ran over the front of his teeth.

“You’re so fff-fragile.” He teased, letting your arm go and flicking the cigarette at you. It hit you on the chest. “No wonder you duh..don’t go on missions.”

“Uh, yeah, whatever..”

Your voice was a little too weak for your liking, mind still reeling slightly from the shock. You imagined the wind sweeping the feeling away.

You made a face at him before you bent over your knees to observe the mark he’d left.

With a low voice you muttered to yourself, “Someone’s gotta do stuff around here, can’t all be running around in the damn forest…”, but you were obviously more preoccupied with the mark in front of you. He’d left a rosy red circle on your forearm with a red slash of color leading up to it from when you’d flinched.

“Looks pretty badass.” You hummed, holding your arm out to him.

In turn, he held out his. It was covered in scratches, cuts, marks, burns, countless scars and blemishes running up and down his arm.

“Okay… showoff.”

He only laughed, smacking your arm away. You couldn’t help your smile.

“So do I get to stick my fingers in your mouth now?”

“Mmmyou know you can do that wuh…whenever you want.” He hummed, tilting his head towards you with a catlike grin.

Well, if he said so. As quick as you could, you darted your hand up and shoved your fingers in his mouth. Obviously they didn’t get very far, given that he was grinning with his teeth, but you got the desired effect, the tips of your fingers pushing past his lips and into his gums for a brief moment. He spluttered, his hands shot out, and he fell halfway backwards. Your laughter keened out into the night.

“Ah…ss..” His right eye flinched shut, head twitching as he reared back up, “Asshole!” But he was laughing too. He swatted at your hand again and you humored him by shoving his own hand back. He only grinned.

Done with playing, you flicked your bangs out of your face and leaned backwards to lay down on the roof tile. It was rough where your elbow rested. One of your hands reached out to grab the shoulder of his hoodie and tug him to follow.

He leaned backwards to match you and you, in turn, leaned over him. His head moved easily when you reached out and grabbed his chin, maneuvering his face to give you a better angle to observe his scar— if you could even call it that.

While you watched him, he watched you. His eyes bored into yours, observing each expression with strangely careful attention. You could feel it physically, the weight of it, the feeling settling heavy somewhere in your throat. It was exciting.

Your thumb traced down his cheek, just shy of the wound. He tried to suppress a flinch, but failed, his teeth gritting together. He was weak like you… just better at hiding it.

“Do you look at it a lot?” You asked. Your thumb finally found the rough outside of it, feeling the barbed skin. The texture was unfamiliar to you but not unwelcome. This was something you’d thought about for a while.

He tried to shake his head. You held it still. Your grip tightened to press his jaw open and he conceded, mouth parting like he was at the dentist. It was admittedly tempting to say the line (say ahh!)... but you kept it together. The soft pad of your finger smoothed from his cheek towards his lower lip. It was plush, fuller than the top lip, and when you ran your finger over it it popped back into place in a certain satisfactory way.

Your nails bit into the soft flesh of his inner cheek and his teeth barred, framing nicely around your knuckles.

“Has anyone ever touched you here before?” Your voice was hushed and close to him. His breath met yours.

“No.” He said, voice muffled around your fingers. You shoved them deeper.

“D’you think anyone will ever touch you here again?”

He was quiet for a while. Your middle finger stroked over the slickness of his back canine. Finally, he answered: “No.”

a/n :: this is my first tumblr fic lol hope you enjoyed. and i also hope i formatted it right... lmk. comments and reblogs are appreciated. bless. also creds to @\pixopix for the x divider

you can also read this fic on my ao3 where i post all my other bullshit

[nightshiftnotes]

♱ Tomorrow

choso kamo × fem!reader

♡ summary: choso is tired of watching you bleed for everyone else. he decides it’s time to teach you another way.

♡ warnings: 18+ mdni • explicit sexual content • established relationship • blood/injury (non-graphic) • canon-typical violence • oral (f!receiving) • piv sex • multiple orgasms • creampie • overstimulation • praise • possessive language • love confession • fluff • smut • needy!choso • both characters are 18+

♡ author’s note: requested by anon ♡ i rewatched way too much jjk and spent way too long studying choso before writing this because i really wanted his voice to feel right. i hope i did him justice. banner by @gamihamiltx

The evening light turns everything gold and soft, but Choso isn’t looking at the sky. He’s looking at you.

He’s been standing at the edge of the training grounds for almost forty minutes, arms folded over his chest, dark eyes following every movement you make. You noticed him about ten minutes into your drills. It would’ve been hard not to. He hasn’t looked away from you once and he’s lurking in the shade like some kind of oversized panther watching something it hasn’t decided whether to pounce on or protect.

At first, it was flattering. Then it got annoying.

Now you’re mostly wondering how much longer he’s going to stand there before he finally opens his mouth.

You drag the edge of the knife across your forearm.

It barely stings anymore.

Blood wells up, and with a practiced curl of your fingers you pull it free before it has a chance to run down your skin. The crimson stream hangs in the air for only a second before you compress it with your cursed energy.

A flick of your wrist.

Thunk.

The target falls backward with another perfect shot. Your hand is already reaching for the knife again, when Choso finally decides to speak. 

“You are using too much.”

You glance over your shoulder at him. Choso hasn’t moved, but somehow he looks even more frustrated than he did a minute ago.

“I’m barely using any.”

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

“And look at me.” You gesture toward yourself with the knife. “Still standing. Still breathing. A medical marvel, really.”

His jaw tightens. “That is not proof that you are being careful.”

You turn back toward the target, smiling even through your own frustration. Choso has been like this for weeks.

Quiet and watchful until he decides you’re doing something that might get you hurt. Then he gets intense about it in a way that would feel overbearing if he weren’t so obviously sincere about it. And, annoyingly, kind of adorable.

He started hovering after the Culling Games. Back when everyone was still learning how to breathe in a world where Sukuna wore Megumi’s face. When Gojo had only just gotten out of the Prison Realm. When Yuji trained until his knuckles split because he didn’t know what else to do with all the guilt eating him alive.

You had taken Yuji under your wing long before any of that, though.

The idiot swallowed a cursed object to save his friends and was rewarded by being treated like a walking execution date. You understood what it was like to have people look at your body and see only what it could do for them.

The Kamo clan had spent years making sure you never forgot how useful you were.

Choso noticed. He noticed how you made Yuji eat when he forgot. How you refused to let him call Sukuna’s actions his own. How you said Megumi’s name whenever the others started discussing the battle as if Megumi wasn’t still trapped inside him.

He noticed how naturally you fit with Yuta and Maki. How Panda could still make you laugh when nobody else could. How you always kept throat medicine for Toge tucked into your bag.

He noticed everything. Especially the way you used Blood Manipulation.

You lift the edge of your skirt and drag another shallow cut across your thigh, just above your knee.

Choso unfolds his arms. “You do not need another cut.”

His voice is closer now. You glance sideways and find him standing at the edge of the training area.

“You don’t carry blood around with you either,” you say.

“I do not need to.”

“You use what’s available.” You pull the blood from the new cut and let it hover over your palm in a loose, unshaped mass. “So do I.”

“I can replace mine.”

“Congratulations.”

“You cannot.”

You curl your fingers and split the blood into three small beads. Then you snap your wrist.

One. Two. Three.

Each shot punches into the center of the target.

“See?” you say. “Efficient.”

Choso doesn’t look at the target. His eyes stay on you.

“You are not listening to me.”

“I’m listening. I’m just not agreeing with you.”

You wipe the knife against the fabric of your skirt, then bring it back up to your forearm. The first cut is already starting to clot. You only need another thin line—

Choso’s hand closes around your wrist before the blade touches your skin.

You freeze.

He’s suddenly right in front of you, close enough that you can see the tension at the corners of his mouth. His fingers circle your wrist carefully, his thumb resting over your pulse.

He isn’t hurting you. He’s just stopping you.

“Choso.”

“No.”

You blink at him. “No?”

“You do not need to open another wound.” His voice is low and controlled. Too controlled.

“It’s shallow. It’ll heal.”

“That is not the point.”

“Then what is?”

You try to pull your arm back. His grip tightens just enough to keep you there.

“I know what I’m doing. I’ve been using this technique my entire life,” you say.

“I know.”

His other hand closes around the knife. He takes it from you and tosses it onto the ground behind him.

“That is what worries me.”

“You’re worried because I’m good at it?”

“I am worried because you treat your body as though it is expendable.”

The words land harder than they should. You open your mouth, already ready to laugh them off, but something in his eyes stops you.

He doesn’t look angry or annoyed, like most people do when they argue with you about the way you use your technique. He just looks hurt. And maybe a little scared.

“I’m not expendable,” you say more quietly. “I’m practical.”

“Practical.” He repeats the word like it tastes bitter. “You call it practical to bleed yourself every time you train. Every time you fight. Every time someone might need you.”

“That’s how the technique works.”

“That is not how it has to work.”

His free hand comes up around your elbow, holding your arm between both of his hands like he’s afraid you’ll try to pull away again.

“You release more than you need. You abandon blood you could control again. You open new wounds because it is faster than recovering what you have already used.”

“Speed matters.”

“You think I do not understand that?” His raised voice startles you.

Choso steps closer. “You think I do not know what it means to sacrifice yourself for someone you love?”

You cross your arms. “Then why are we arguing?”

“Because I understand.” He steps closer again. “I understand exactly why you do it. I would do the same for Yuji. I did the same for Eso and Kechizu. I would have bled myself dry if it meant keeping them alive.”

“Then—”

“And that terrifies me.” His voice cracks.

The training grounds go quiet around the two of you. Even the leaves seem too loud now.

“I know how easy it is to tell yourself one more injury does not matter,” he continues. “That pain is acceptable if someone you love survives. I know how impossible it is to stop.”

His hands curl into fists at his sides. “I know. And I cannot watch you do it anymore.”

You look away from him, toward the target that’s dark with your blood.

“You use what’s available,” you say. “So do I.”

“I can replace mine.”

“Congratulations.”

“You cannot.” His voice stays firm. “I convert cursed energy into blood. You are human. Every drop you spend is something your body has to replace.”

“I know that.”

“You become pale.”

“I’m already pale.”

“More than usual. Your hands shake. You chew ice until your mouth goes numb and pretend it means nothing.”

You lift your eyes to look at him. “You noticed that?”

“I notice everything you do.”

You don’t know what to do with that.

“It matters,” you say. “My blood matters. I’m not stupid.”

“But everyone else matters more.”

You don’t have an answer for that.

Choso takes another step toward you. “Let me help.”

Your brow furrows. “Help how?”

“Let me teach you to maintain control longer. To use blood you have already released instead of abandoning it. Let me show you where your technique wastes more than it needs.”

“I know how to use my technique.”

“That is not what I said.”

His intensity would piss you off if his voice wasn’t starting to shake.

“I am not asking you to stop fighting. I am asking you to let me stand beside you.”

“Choso—”

“So you do not always have to be the first one who bleeds.”

You stare at him.

“Please.”

You’ve seen Choso angry. You’ve seen him grieve. You’ve heard him say Yuji’s name with a kind of devotion nothing could touch. You have never heard him beg.

“Please stop treating yourself like you are replaceable.”

He reaches for you again, but this time his fingers don’t close around your wrist. They stop just short of touching you, like he’s not sure how to reach you anymore.

Then he drops to his knees.

The movement is so abrupt that you barely process it before both arms wrap around your thighs and his face presses into your stomach.

“Choso.”

“Please let me help you.” His voice is muffled against your shirt. 

His grip tightens. Then you realize he’s shaking. Your hands hover over him because you don’t know what to do with them. Choso holds you like you’re the only thing that matters right now, forehead pressed against you, breathing uneven.

“You do not have to keep hurting yourself.” One of his hands slides higher and settles over your hip. “I can show you another way. We can train together. I can teach you to use less.”

His other hand curls into the fabric at your side. “Just let me help.”

“Sometimes there isn’t time.”

“Then I will make time.”

“Choso—”

“I will be there.”

The words shut you up. What can you even say to that?

His arms tighten around you. “You do not have to be the first person who bleeds every time.” His forehead presses harder into your stomach. “Please.”

Your hand moves before you realize it. You cup his cheek with one hand. The other hand slides into his hair and pushes the loose strands away from his face.

Choso stills for a second. Then he turns his face into your palm and his eyes close. A shuddered breath breaks against your skin. He presses his lips to the center of your hand and gives you a long soft kiss. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

His mouth touches your palm again. “You do not need to apologize.”

“I didn’t realize—“ you start but can’t finish the thought. 

You didn’t realize he cared this much. You didn’t know your cuts were hurting him too. You didn’t know anyone could look at you and see more than your technique.

Choso opens his eyes and looks up at you. “I need you to understand.” His mouth brushes your skin as he speaks. “When you are hurt, I cannot bear it.”

His voice cracks. “I cannot bear it.”

Your fingers tighten in his hair. “Choso.”

He kisses your palm again. Then the inside of your wrist. His lips pause over your pulse. They stay there, his breath warm on your skin. 

“Let me take care of you.”

“…Okay.”

He lifts his head. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Your thumb moves over his cheekbone. “Teach me. Help me. Just don’t ask me to stop fighting for them.”

“Never.” His hands slide from your hips to your waist. “I would never ask you to be less than you are.” His eyes stay locked on yours. “I only want you to survive it.”

You look at him and tilt your head. You don’t have anything to say to that. His eyes move lower. 

Past his hands, and the hem of your skirt, to the thin red cut just above your knee. His face twists into something that looks like pain. Then he bends and presses his mouth to the skin next to the cut.

Your breath catches.

His lips stay there. He kisses the same place again, slower. The warmth of his mouth sinks into you. His hands travel down, his palms spreading over your thighs as his kisses start moving higher.

“Choso.”

Your fingers slide deeper into his hair. His shoulders loosen under your touch. He kisses higher.

His eyes meet yours as he reaches the edge of your skirt.

You swallow. “Is this part of the lesson?”

“No.” His voice sounds strained.

“Good.” You say breathlessly as your hips move closer to him. 

Whatever restraint he had left disappears. His fingers bunch your skirt higher.

He kisses above the cut, then the inside of your thigh. His mouth travels up with more hunger, his lips parting against sensitive skin while his hands grip you tightly, keeping you close. 

Your knees fall open. Choso inhales sharply. His fingers hook into the edge of your underwear and pulls it aside. Cool air touches you for barely a second before his mouth replaces it. 

“Fuck—Choso.”

He groans against you. The vibration shoots through your entire body.

His tongue sweeps slowly through your folds, almost too slowly, like he needs to savor the taste of you. Then his arms tighten around your thighs and he pulls you closer.

Choso kisses you once, open mouthed and desperate, before his tongue finds your clit.

Your knees wobble. 

In one swift movement, he stands up, putting his hands under your thighs as he lifts you.

Your back slams against the wall with a dull thud, your skirt pushed up around your hips while your legs rest over his shoulders.

He doesn’t look away from you. “Need you,” he breathes.

“Fuck, I need—”

His mouth moves back down to you. There’s nothing slow about the way he devours you now. His tongue drags through you with hunger, his hands gripping your ass as he holds your weight effortlessly against the wall.

You gasp his name and Choso moans like hearing it hurts.

His tongue circles your clit before his lips close around it and he sucks it into his mouth. The sudden pressure makes your back arch.

“Choso—fuck.”

Your hands twist into his hair and you tug. A whimper tears from him. The sound is so needy, and so completely different from the strength he’s using to hold you up, that heat rushes through you all at once.

He pulls you closer to his mouth. His tongue presses into you, deep and wet, before dragging up again. He moves between fucking you with it and circling your clit over and over. 

The sounds you make encourages him. Every shake of your thighs makes his fingers dig more firmly into your skin. 

When you clench around his tongue, he groans and immediately repeats the same movement, chasing the reaction like nothing else exists.

Your head drops back against the wall.

“Please.”

Choso’s eyes meet yours. He already looks wrecked, his lips are wet, his dark hair is falling around his face while he holds you open above him.

“I’m close,” you gasp. “Please, Cho—”

He closes his mouth around your clit again. His eyes never leave your face while he sucks, tongue flicking over you in fast and devastating strokes.

He moans against you and your orgasm tears through you. Your back arches hard, and your thighs clamp around his head while your fingers tighten painfully in his hair. You cry out his name, your whole body shivering against the wall while he refuses to pull away.

He keeps licking through every twitch and pressing open mouthed kisses to you between them.

When the sensitivity makes you squirm helplessly in his grip, he just holds you closer, drawing one last broken sound from you before lifting his head. His chin is wet and he looks at you like you are the greatest thing he’s ever seen. 

“Again?” He asks breathlessly. 

You stare down at him. “Choso.”

“Please.”

“Just—let me—“ you start, but a low groan tears from his throat and he's moving his mouth back between your thighs with desperate hunger before you can say anything else.

"Ah—fuck—Cho—"

Your head falls back hard against the wall, the impact sending a shock through you. His mouth moves desperately, his tongue pressing and circling and flicking in patterns that make breathing difficult. Every muscle in his shoulders tenses as he holds you open, refusing to let you escape even as your hips try to rock against his face.

"Oh god—yes—" Your voice comes out breathy and broken, each word between gasps. "Right there—don't stop—"

He groans against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through you. His fingers dig deeper into your skin, pulling you even closer.

"Cho—" Your fingers rake through his hair, pulling hard. "Fuck—"

He increases his pace. His tongue flicks faster and harder. He's moaning constantly now, the sound muffled against you. Your thighs start shaking uncontrollably. 

"I'm—I'm—" The words break from you in breathy gasps. 

He doesn't slow down. If anything, he gets more intense, sucking harder, moving faster, chasing your orgasm like his life depends on it. Your back arches violently off the wall as the pleasure finally breaks.

"Choso—" His name breaks from you as your orgasm rips through you, your entire body shivering against him as you come hard.

He keeps going, keeps licking you through it, refusing to pull away even as you cry out and shake and claw at his shoulders. He's moaning against you, completely lost in the taste of you, in the feeling of you coming undone because of him.

When you finally collapse back against the wall, you tug his hair until he lifts his head.

"Come here—please," you say, your voice raspy and breathy.

He rises to his feet and you drag him upright, kissing him hard. Choso groans into your mouth and instantly presses closer. You can taste yourself on his tongue.

He kisses without rhythm or patience, hands moving restlessly under your skirt, over your waist, and up your sides. He can’t seem to touch enough of you at once.

Your palms slide under his shirt. His body is incredibly warm. You feel the hard length of him pressing against you through his clothes.

“Choso.”

“Yeah?” The answer comes breathlessly against your mouth.

“I need you.” 

He makes a broken sound. “Yeah?” His forehead presses to yours. “You—fuck—you want—”

Your hand slides between your bodies and palms him through his pants. His entire body shudders and a small whimper catches in his throat.

“Yes,” you breathe. “I want you.”

His hands drop to his waistband, but they shake too badly to manage the fastening. You watch him fumble a few times. 

“Let me.”

Your hands join his. Together, you work through the fastening, his forehead lowering against yours while your fingers brush.

“You’ve thought about this,” you whisper.

Choso goes very still. A blush spreads slowly over his face.

“Yuji told me I should speak to you.”

You blink.

“About this?”

“Not exactly.” His eyes look away from yours. “He said I was making everyone uncomfortable.”

You laugh quietly. “How?”

Choso’s hands settle on your hips, holding you tightly. “He said I look at you as though I am starving.”

Choso finally looks at you.

There is nothing embarrassed in his face now. Only the raw, aching need he’s apparently spent weeks trying to keep inside.

“You do,” you whisper.

His fingers tighten against you. “I am.”

“What else did Yuji say?”

Choso swallows once. “That staring was not a courtship.”

You laugh softly again. “He’s right.”

“I know that now.”

“And?”

His forehead presses against yours. “He said that if you ever chose me, I should not waste the moment being afraid.”

“Are you afraid?”

“Yes.” His mouth brushes yours. “But I want you more.”

Your eyes move down before you can stop yourself. Your mouth goes dry. He is thick, flushed, and big enough to make you a little nervous.

Choso’s breathing turns ragged under your attention. When your eyes move back to his, he searches your face with the same vulnerable expression.

“Still with me?” he asks quietly. 

“Yeah—I—sorry—“ 

His hand closes around your hip. The other braces against the wall next to your head as he presses in between your thighs. The head of his cock presses against your entrance.

“Tell me if it is too much.” His voice is strained. 

Then he starts pushing inside. The stretch steals your breath immediately.

Choso moves slowly, every muscle in his body tight with the effort. His eyes never leave your face. Sweat gathers at his temple, and his jaw is tight while he slowly pushes inch by inch in. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re so—” The words collapse into a groan.

Your nails dig into his shoulders.

He’s only about halfway inside, and it’s already filling you so much. Your body helplessly fluttering around him trying to accommodate his size. He pushes forward another inch when he feels it.

“Sorry.” His forehead drops on your shoulder. “Fuck—sorry. You just feel—”

“It’s okay.” Your fingers slide into his hair. “Stay still for a second.”

He stops moving immediately. He stays inside you, his body held painfully rigid while his mouth moves over your shoulder in soft, shaky kisses.

You breathe through the pressure. Slowly, the burn starts to soften into pleasure that makes your thighs tighten around his waist. Every flutter pulls another sound from him.

“You feel…” He swallows. “I did not know it could feel like this.”

“Like what?”

Choso lifts his head to look at you again. 

“Like there is nowhere you end and I begin.”

You kiss him and move your hips carefully. It draws another wrecked groan from him.

“Ah—okay.” Your nails press into his shoulders. “More.”

Choso’s eyes close and his hands tightens on your hip. Then he pushes forward in one thrust, burying himself completely inside you. You gasp. The sudden stretch is intense and dizzying. His body presses so close that you can feel his heart hammering against your chest.

“Choso.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your neck. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Cho.” You kiss the side of his face. “Just stay there—ah— a second.”

Choso stays buried inside you, his forehead against your shoulder, breathing like he’s been running for miles. His cock twitches inside you. Every small movement sends another sharp spark up your spine.

You slowly adjust around him and roll hips. He groans. The sound is deep and helpless. When you do it again, he lifts his head.

“Can I please move?” he asks quickly. 

You pull him closer with your legs. “Yes.”

His first thrust is slow. He pulls out only a little before thrusting back in, his eyes searching your face. The drag of him against your inner walls sends heat shooting through your body.

He does it again, a little deeper, and the angle changes slightly. His cock hits somewhere inside you that makes your head fall back.

“Oh, fuck.”

Choso stops for barely a heartbeat. “There?”

“Yes.” Your nails press into him. “Right there.”

He thrusts in again at the same angle. The sound that leaves you makes him groan and his pupils dilate. He does it again, deliberately this time, watching the way your lips part whenever he hits the same spot.

Every thrust gets deeper, and harder, until the wall presses firmly against your back and the air fills with the wet sound of your bodies meeting. 

Choso kisses your throat, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. He can’t stay away from you long enough to establish a clean rhythm. Every few thrusts in, he tries to kiss you again, his breath warm against your lips.

“You feel so good.” His hips snap forward. “So fucking good. I cannot—”

You moan his name and his control slips. “Say it again.”

“Choso.”

He thrusts harder. “Again.”

“Choso—fuck.”

A raw groan tears from him. His movements become more desperate, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave marks. The pleasure builds quickly inside you.

“Cho, I’m—”

“Yeah?” His face is already pressed against yours, and his mouth is open against your cheek.

“I’m—close.”

His entire body shudders. “Please.” He kisses you frantically. “Let me feel it.”

His hand slips between your bodies. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing in uneven circles while his hips keep driving into you. Your body tightens around him.

Choso’s mouth falls open. “Fuck. I can feel—”

Your orgasm crashes through you before he can finish his sentence. You arch against him, your nails dragging down his back as your body clenches around his cock in hard, pulsing waves.

Choso nearly folds over you. He buries his face in your neck and keeps moving, every thrust drawing the pleasure out until you’re shaking in his arms.

“Too much,” you whimper. Your hips grind toward him anyway.

“You’re perfect,” he gasps. “Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

He moves his mouth to your throat. His teeth graze your skin, leaving a brief sting that turns into heat.

“I love you.” The words tumble out between thrusts.

“God, I love you so much—fuck—”

Your heart skips a beat. “Choso, I—”

Another thrust knocks the breath out of you. You wrap both arms around his neck and pull him closer.

“Fuck—Cho—I love you.”

He stops. His cock stays buried deep inside you, his body shaking against yours, but his rhythm slows down.

Choso lifts his face from your neck. “What?” His voice is barely there.

You cup his cheek. His skin is burning under your palm. “I love you.”

His eyes water immediately. “Again.”

“I love you, Choso.”

“Again. Please.”

“I love you.”

His mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is messy and desperate, your lips moving together between broken breaths as his hips start moving again.

Harder and deeper now. His arms tighten under your thighs and pull you even tighter against him.

“I love you too,” he gasps against your mouth. “I have—I’ve wanted—”

You clench around him and the rest becomes a whimper. His forehead drops against yours, his eyes squeezed shut as he drives into you again. Every sound thats dragged out of him is raw, your name, curses, and breathless pleas. 

“Please,” he moans. “Please, baby, I need—”

“What do you need, Cho?”

“I don’t know… Just don’t stop holding me.”

You kiss him. Choso moans into your mouth and your nails drag down his back, leaving red marks.

His pace turns frantic. The storage shed shakes around you. Supplies rattle on a nearby shelf with every thrust.

He keeps trying to kiss you through it, missing your mouth and catching your cheek, your jaw, your throat, any skin he can reach.

“So good,” he gasps. “You feel so good. Can’t believe—” His voice breaks. “Mine—fuck, baby—you’re really m-mine.”

You grab his face between your hands. “Yes—fuck, Choso. Yours.”

His eyes squeeze shut.

“And you’re mine.” You say.

A sob catches in his throat. “I’m yours.” His hips drive deeper. “I’m yours too. Fuck—all yours.”

“I love you.”

“Say it again.” He sounds almost frantic.

You kiss him. “I—ah—love you.”

“Again—please.”

“I—love you, Cho.”

A broken sound tears out of him. “Thank you.” His forehead presses to yours. “Fuck—thank you.”

The pressure inside you starts building again. Your walls start spasming around him. Choso feels it. His breathing turns frantic.

“Again?” he gasps. “Please—let me feel you again.”

His thumb moves more firmly over your clit. You can only moan his name. The pleasure breaks through you a second time, stronger and deeper, leaving your whole body shaking in his grip.

Choso follows with a loud and broken groan. He buries his face into your neck, his body going rigid as he loses himself completely. For a few seconds he just breathes heavily into your neck. Letting out quiet noises into your skin. Then his hips give a few shallow, involuntary motions. Each one pulling another whimper out of him.

“Too much,” he gasps. His arms tighten on you anyway.

“Choso.”

“Too much—but I can’t—” He kisses your throat, breathing unevenly. “Don’t want to stop.”

You wrap yourself around him. “Then don’t.” 

You feel him still hard inside you. His breathing pressed into your neck.

"I—" His voice breaks. "I cannot—"

"Choso."

"Cannot—stop—“ His hips move, a small thrust that makes both of you gasp. "I need—fuck—I need you."

His hands tighten on your thighs again. He pulls out almost all the way, then thrusts forward again. It’s so much deeper this time. Your back hits the wall hard.

"Ah—"

He groans and does it again, and again.

“Need to feel you—need—," he gasps against your mouth.

His words turn into broken sounds. You cling to his shoulders as he fucks you harder against the wall, each movement driving you higher up the surface before gravity pulls you back down onto him.

Every thrust hits so deep inside you. His breathing becomes laboured, his face still buried into your neck as he keeps driving into you.

"So beautiful," he whispers against your lips. "My girl—fuck—my girl—"

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you feel yourself getting closer again.

"Choso—"

"Yes." His hips snap forward harder. "Say my name."

"Choso—"

"Again."

"Cho—"

He kisses you frantically, swallowing the rest of his name as your orgasm crashes through you. Your body clenches tightly around him. He cries out against your mouth, and his entire body tightens. He thrusts in deeply one more time and comes with a broken moan against your mouth, his arms locked around you while his body shakes violently.

You hold him through it. He gives a few more small, involuntary movements before finally stopping.

“Too much,” he whispers.

“You said that before.” you half laugh through trying to catch your breath.

“I meant it before.”

His mouth moves lazily over your neck, then your cheek, and your lips.

“I cannot stop kissing you.”

“I noticed.”

“Do you want me to?”

“No.”

He kisses you again, slower now.

His arm slides under your head. The other curls around your waist and drags you against his chest.

He stays inside you, holding you against the wall while the evening light fades around the edges of the training grounds. His breathing gradually slows down.

Eventually, he withdraws with a sharp breath and lowers your legs carefully. Your knees nearly fold underneath you. He catches you before you can stumble, one arm around your waist.

“You are unsteady.”

“You just fucked me against a wall.”

His brow furrows as though considering the relevance. “Yes.”

You laugh and lean into him while he helps rearrange your clothes.

He moves your underwear back into place, then smooths your skirt down with an intense amount of concentration.

“You’re taking this very seriously.”

“It was crooked.”

“You’re the one who put it there.”

“I know.”

Once he’s done, he gets the small medical kit kept inside the shed.

Then he kneels in front of you again. He notices the way your breath catches. His eyes lift to yours. 

You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t start.”

“I did not say anything.”

“You were thinking loudly.”

He looks down at your forearm, apparently deciding not to argue with you. 

His hands are careful while he cleans the cut and covers it with gauze. He wraps it tightly, his fingers are steady now despite everything that just happened. When he finishes, he turns your hand over and presses a quiet kiss to your palm.

“I’ll let you teach me,” you say.

He looks up at you again. “You will use less blood?”

“I’ll try.”

“And you will stop opening new wounds when blood you have already released remains usable?”

You smile down at him. “You’re really bossy for a man who was crying into my neck five minutes ago.”

Choso doesn’t look embarrassed. “Those matters are unrelated.”

He stands, but instead of giving you room, he moves behind you and slides one arm around your waist.

Your back is against his chest. His other hand moves over your bandaged forearm, thumb brushing the edge of the wrap.

He bends until his cheek rests against your shoulder. His hair brushes your face, his breath warm against your ear.

“Tomorrow, I will teach you to maintain control with less blood.”

You turn your head slightly. “You just fucked me into the wall and you’re already assigning yourself as my new training partner?”

“Yes.”

You laugh again and his arm tightens around you. 

“I intend to help you use your technique without unnecessarily injuring yourself. That is separate.”

“Separate?”

His lips brush under your ear. “Yes.” He kisses the spot just under your earlobe. “But I intend to continue doing both.”

You twist in his arms to look at him. “So we’re scheduling training and wall sex now?”

“Training is tomorrow.”

“And the wall sex?”

Choso looks at you like the answer is obvious. “That does not require scheduling.”

[cigaretteleggedjeans]

Tantrum.

toby rogers x gn reader.

cw, characters 18+ mouthplay, bloodplay, gash fingering, male masturbation, withholding orgasm.

summary: pathetic toby comes home after a tiring job throwing a fit, you put him in his place rightfully so.

1,140k words

It was a normal day of sleeping over at toby’s place. The moon shining through his open window, crickets chirping a rhythmic stridulation.

You’re nestled under his covers taking in his leftover scent, the smell of the wadded, irish spring soap bar melted to the rim of the tub.

Cheekily smiling to yourself thinking about him frustratingly prying off the bar every-time he uses it, knowing you’ve told him countless times to buy a soap dish.

The undertones of his musky scent from the nights he mosey’s home, worn out, too exhausted to shower, comfort you. You’ve picked out his night clothes, some stripped pj pants and a t-shirt sat neatly on the end of his bed. Impatiently waiting for his usual text stating he’s ‘on the way’.

Engulfed in his bed your breathing slows, your mind rambles on incoherent memories and you find yourself unable to fight off the heavy blinking, you sit up checking your phone, no message.

Upset you text him ‘Hun?’.

read. no response.

Irritated you turn your phone off, Toby isn’t one to ignore you, let alone not tell you when his job is going on longer than planned.

Stepping out of bed, you can feel your blood begin to boil, your thoughts spiraling, nevertheless you deicide to give your faithful boy the benefit of the doubt.

Ten minutes later Toby opens the door his shoes clumped in mud matching his grass streaked pants with his shirt and face stained in blood, his brown hair sticking to his forehead covering his dark lowered eyes. Pushing past you he collapses on his bed face up unbothered to greet you.

Annoyance building, you follow, standing over him. “tough day?” you ask

“I don’t wah- wanna talk about it” he turns his body exposing the disfigured gaping hole on his cheek. Frustrated at the lack of communication your patience weening, you press.

“well can we talk about how you didn’t text back?”

Toby huffs rolling his eyes folding himself in a fetal position.

Fed up with his growing attitude you grab his face spitting at his open deformed wound, saliva slick and glistening against his molars.

He snaps up locking eyes with you, raising his eyebrows and voice.

“What’s ruh-wrong with- ?!” augh. cutting off his sentence you shove your fingers messily through his cheek, tugging at the bottom cluster of teeth, dragging him off his bed to the floor. He instinctively bites down, tearing skin from your fingers. His body flails with a thud.

“Ouch, Tobias you JACKASS!”. using your free hand you shove his head back withdrawing your fingers, attempting to shake off the pain.

“I-I’m so sorry imsosorry imsosorry.” tears pooling in his eyes “baby, i didn’t mean it.” he stands to reach your bruised fingers.

“Stop !” shushing him with your gashed finger, and stopping his pursuit keeping him on his knees, you leave a trail of blood against his lip, he laps it up.

You run your unhurt hand through his grease bunched hair.

“l sh-should of texted”. he cries, tears wetting the dried blood on his face.

Petting his head you look to his pleading eyes your good hand trailing down the side of his face.

“what’s gotten into you, hm?” you taunt, coaxing the bloody tears away with your thumb. He coos, closing his eyes.

You cup his face with both hands Your gushing fingers pooling his gums with blood.

Reaching down you place your lips against his intact cheek, pecking at his salty skin he pitifully groans.

Wearily opening his eyes blinking the last tears away. “please forgi-ve me?” he pathetically moans, leaving his mouth agape

“i think we both know you don’t deserve it” you jeer, hovering over his mouth with your own, tasting his breath.

Closing his eyes he swallows, “can i make it be-tter?” he grips his pants while rubbing his thighs together. tempting his need.

Giving in, you peck his lips before letting your wounded fingers stroke them, nudging through his teeth, he needlessly accepts, sucking like a starved puppy, nursing the irony fluid.

his tongue twisting and turning around your fingers. Almost forgetting what he was being punished for.

You curl your fingers pushing his tongue down. “say ah”. obeying he croaks, your fingers sliding deeper into his mouth.

“wider” his tongue sticking out you slide farther reaching past his uvula, his eyes watering, doing everything he can to not gag against them. your fingers still gushing, you use your good hand to stretch his undamaged cheek, his mouth wide open revealing every tooth smeared with blood.

how trusting and naive he is. You watch as his chest quickens. So needy.

“good job puppy” you praise before removing your hands, then slipping your gooey finger back through his opened cavity, you pull back watching him as you add another finger. his eyes widen and his brows furrow.

Hooking your fingers you stroll across the room, he’s hunched over keeping an awkward pace. His eyes not wavering from yours, he knows he deserves this, you’re getting off on it too, though you wouldn’t let him know that.

Toby grunts unintelligible words.

“speak up Tobs.” you warn, with a sharp tug of his jaw.

“i lobe yugh” he barks muffled from the thick bloodied drool spilling from his mouth and hole.

“promise?” you ask innocently, tightening your grip stretching the tear.

Toby nods, his knuckles turning pale from clenching them together, his body pleading to touch you.

Bored of being so kind you yank him through the end of the bedroom, forcing him to shuffle against the floor to keep from ripping his wound more.

You reach the bathroom making him face away from the grimey tub, releasing your grasp he gulps the thick slimed drool that collected in his mouth.

bunching his shirt between his hands, begging for release, his bulge twitching against his jeans.

“want some help with that love?” he looks away, embarrassed, smirking you reach for his belt buckle, freeing the metal clasp, his head falls to your shoulder.

Brushing your hand over his boxers, grasping his swollen cock, he shudders. peppering kisses to your neck. his tip sticky and throbbing against your touch, he moans. his hot saliva dripping down your neck to your chest, his moans muffled against you.

“does that feel good?” you purr, rubbing him the way you know he likes.

“i’m gon-n-na ahh.” he stutters while his body jolts against yours, denying him, you let go as he stumbles forward catching himself. His eyes welt, poor toby feeling so betrayed.

“aw baby, don’t be so sad.” you mockingly pout shoving him in the tub he lands crumpled up and pathetic. “maybe next time you won’t throw a fit, after all only good dogs get rewarded.” you condescendingly ridicule before turning on the water. Leaving him there soaked, sad and soiled.

[evilbabything]

not so tender loving

. . .gash fingering!!!!!!!!!

1,093 words

eroticism, crude language, no sex.

it’d been a long day. from the scrappy mission you’d been sent on with Nina to the shower being out of cold water to everyone being their usual selves, and you really had to take it out on someone.

unluckily for Toby, your sweet little boyfriend, he seemed the clearest option.

clambering up the rotting wooden steps you work on shedding your bloodied jacket while shaking dirt and other less than savory things from your hair.

you and toby share a room, one of the firsts ones after getting off the steps.

shouldering the door open you toss your jacket down on a little pile of clothes already accumulated, instantly looking for toby.

the rooms small as a shoebox so it’s not hard to find him curled up in bed, one hand beneath his cheek and his lips parted with little huffs of breath.

he looks like he’s been nesting up here since you Left with the sheets peeling off your stained mattress, blankets scrunched at the foot of the bed, and an empty plate on the janky bedside table.

stomping over to your guys shared bed you’re quick to wake him with a firm hand shaking him about on his shoulder.

he startles with a sharp intake of breath, thin fingers instinctively curling around your wrist to stop you.

“wake up.” you demand despite his downturned eyes already fluttering about, eyebrows furrowed and drool crusted at the side of his lips.

“what?” he mumbles out groggily, sitting up with a heavy blink, shoulders curled inwards. he looks like a sopping Pup.

“are you planning to waste away all day?” you ask firmly, hands falling to your hips like a stern mother. it’s clear you’re trying to start something.

toby, ever Knowing and not wanting to fight, shakes his head with a little jut of his lips. he looks pathetic, and you know he knows how much you like that.

glaring down at him a moment you grab his chin, smushing his thin cheeks in your palm. your thumb rests against his teeth through the gash in his cheek.

he takes it like the sweet boy he is, lips parting faintly as he stares up at you from beneath his eyelashes, still all Sleepy eyed.

tracing the little pout of his lips you tug his bottom lip down until his mouth is partially open and your head dipping faintly, breath hot against his lips, his eyes slipping shut. .

your spit hits hot and wet in his mouth. his eyes fly open, nose scrunched even when he greedily drinks it down.

not wanting to hear him Whine or beg yet you press your thumb between his teeth, slipping atop his lap.

he obediently laps at the pad of your finger, thin fingers curling into the bedsheets since he doesn’t have permission to touch you yet.

his cock already presses hard against your ass, always being easy to rile up. removing your thumb you go to messing with his Lips, and teeth, and then his gash.

if he could feel it it’d probably be a constant pain, but since he doesn’t you have your fun, fingers prying open his teeth through the gap.

he goes along with it obediently, throat bobbing with a gulp of saliva.

“that get your pussy wet, baby?” you croon out mockingly, both fingers curling beneath his wriggling tongue.

he replies with a few garbled sounds and a weak shift of his hips beneath your ass.

“words.” you demand with a dramatic furrow of your eyebrows and a tilt of your head, utterly Innocent.

he narrows his eyes at you slightly, more spit wetting your fingers as he groans something unintelligible.

deciding it’s Good enough you scissor your fingers to lazily spread his jaw wider, making him whine out, just to be a brat you suspect.

“so Tight. such a good boy,” you praise him even if he doesn’t deserve it, pulling your fingers out halfway to then sink them in further.

the tips of your filed nails hit his opposite inner cheek, scraping at the wet flesh. his teeth drag along your slick fingers.

his breath comes hot and wet against your collarbone, tongue instinctively curling around your fingers momentarily before falling again.

pulling your fingers out again you wet his gash with his own spit, laying on a thin layer. he takes the moment to gulp down excess saliva and wet his lips.

the skin there is so Red and tempting, you can’t help but to stretch it wide as it’ll go. a few droplets of blood come, which he eagerly laps up.

“p-puh-lease.” he moans out in a high pitched whine, head thinking down on your shoulder, his body twitching against yours.

you survey your fingers in the air for a moment, staring at the mixture of blood and spit shining on them. without thought you bring it to your own mouth, licking a stripe between the now parted fingers.

it tastes like iron and salt. like Toby.

his hands come up to curl uncertainty at the jut of your hips, fingers softly caressing the flesh like it’ll help get him what he Wants.

“please?” you repeat with a little bite of your bottom lip, wet fingers curling through his greasy brown hair.

he whined again in frustration, crooked teeth biting down at the crook of your neck before his wet lips go to soothing it with sloppy suckling and kisses.

“words.” you repeat a bit sterner, not pleased that you’ve had to say it twice. wrapping a bit of hair around your knuckles you tug him away to see his face.

“wuh—“ he cuts himself off with a displeased huff of air and a sporadic clench of his jaw, flustered. “i want m-more.” he pleads quietly, eyebrows furrowed.

“think you been good enough for that?” you ask O’ so earnestly, hand smoothing down to slip through the whispy hair of his nape.

he nods eagerly, without a doubt. you coo like he’s a cute puppy, raising your hand to gently rub over his bitten lips.

they part so easily, tongue fighting to not flick out of his mouth, drool pooling again. you smile and trace his bottom lip a moment, before crawling off his lap.

you hear his frustrated whine and the rip of his bedsheets beneath his hands as you walk off to the bathroom to ready yourself for bed.

AN: bello guys……. go look at my other stuff. i lob toby

requests open and criticism encouraged

[cigaretteleggedjeans]

incorrect quotes

you x romanceables

read my marchxfarmer and balorxfarmer here

[cigaretteleggedjeans]

fanfics !! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Rubies and Sapphires

Chapter 1

Creepy pastas

tantrum, toby rogers x gn! reader

run and confess, toby rogers x fem! reader

Miscellaneous

Fields of Mistria

incorrect quotes

[evilbabything]

before the world was big

. . . in which you’re dating Toby Rogers before Lyra’s accident, the fire, and Slenderman.

808 words

minor hurt, fluff, teenaged weirdness.

you and toby had always been two peas in a weird pod. when others would play tag on the blacktop you and toby would be hunched over poking at bugs with a stick, uninvited and frankly unconcerned.

toby didn’t laugh when you urged him to call you yellowfang, and himself raggedstar, or when you wanted to act out your fake doomed relationship.

you never pretended he wasn’t different, but you didn’t scorn him for it either.

there had been infantile shows of adoration in hugs, ring pop candies, and more play dates than either family could count.

maybe that’s why nobody was surprised when you two started dating as soon as you knew what it meant, a few months into middle school when that stuff started mattering.

people already knew there was something wrong with toby by that time, and by default, you as well. they didn’t care if the two freaks dated so long as it kept you from daring to have crushes on them.

very frequently had toby almost been put in home schooling to escape the bullying, but he’d pressed against it to nobly not leave you to bear the grunt alone.

the relationship never fizzled out despite everything, only tempering into something steady and understanding.

sometime fall, 2012

denver, colorado.

the air was wet, but not much cold past having to wear a long sleeved shirt. you’d settled for one of toby’s oversized sweaters which he favors instead of showing off his scrawny arms.

ironically enough toby was already by yourself this morning, yammering your ear off about something or another.

his mother always offered you both a ride to school but you’d deny it in favor of getting some ‘alone time’ together.

he had on the same striped jacket as he did every day paired with the same fuzzy, uncombed hair. you watched him talk, and occasionally twitch.

“uh-are you even l-l-luh-listening?” toby scoffed out soon enough, done with hearing his own voice and now turning to you for input. “why would i not be listening? i Always listen.” you retort smugly, fixing him with a look that could rival the cat who got the cream.

he didn’t find it as amusing as you and rolls his eyes, now pointedly waiting for the answer to whatever question he’d asked.

“but you know how i love your voice,” you continued on with mock certainty, idly adjusting the straps of your backpack as to look busy.

“right.” it’s Dry and sarcastic but he’s clearly been quelled enough to repeat himself and even start on a New tirade that lasts until you’re at the doors of your school.

by the time you’re there people are already lazily nestling in little groups against their lockers, taking up space they think is rightfully theirs.

toby doesn’t talk much in the presence of others, only muttering something to you now and again. you both trail off to his locker, only because it’s the nearest.

“if mr. worth isn’t being a dick today i can sneak out for 4th period,” you offer up light heartedly, wanting to sound hopeful. “cuh-can’t. test.” he scoffed out a bit snippily, already picking at his cuticles.

you smack his hand away, pretending to not see when he lightly glares at you for the betrayal.

“finish your test Early then, gawd.” you bemoan absently, never too worried about anything. “thanks for the-uh-Fuck advice.” again, with the sarcasm.

“let me walk you.” you offer up finally, already pulling at the duck tail of his sweater. he mumbled something but didn’t push you away.

there are a few shoulder checks and “tih-tih-ticci toby”s thrown the both of your ways, but they go ignored.

once he’s settled into his own class with his headphones in like a baby with a bottle, you head off for your own.

the day goes slowly when you share no classes with him and have no friends. he, like said, had a test fourth hour. you don’t see him until lunch.

lunch was a boring affair, but welcomed all the same. instead of sitting in the cafeteria you both headed outside, sat on a random bench.

you shared a pair of earbuds, letting the sweet sweet voice of brendon urie keep you both company.

when not eating toby would hold your hand, or your thigh, or rest his head on your shoulder. if you both weren’t so eager to shrink into yourselves you’d probably be making out.

he snuck a kiss, Once, tasting of peanut butter and gum. “romantic.” you mused with an arch of your eyebrow. “fuck off.” he retorted with an uninteional jerk of his shoulder against yours.

you took the chance to rest your head against his shoulder anyway. “roma-n-ntic.” he parroted back mockingly. you were the one rolling your eyes this time.

lunch ended quickly enough with another kiss and you both parting ways.

AN: let’s pretend toby wasn’t homeschooled past elementary because in this universe he’d have you to keep him company.

also this is kind of me trying to set up for future toby fanfics. bear with me. might be edited/workshopped a bit but i know i wont touch this unless i post it now. sowy.

requests open….

criticism is welcome and encouraged. you can even beat me up a bit 🤤

[cigaretteleggedjeans]

hai!! my first silly little fanfic, i posted on ao3 as well. hope you like it so far! it will be multiple chapters. Also it’ll be Balor x Farmer, but most likely end in March x Farmer

CW will be added before each chapter, not sure how long the fic will be, but i’ll try to write a chapter a week.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•⋅๑┈•✦

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ๑┈•✦

2,738k words

rubies and sapphires

Chapter 1

“You wanted to see me?” Ari questioned

“Yes.” The man said handing her a letter.

Ari glanced at the letter, her eyes widened with surprise. “Are you asking me to go help Mistria?” She asks and continues down the letter.

Mistria’s head coordinator Lady Adeline requested the help of The Adventurers Guild in hopes of sending someone out to partake in rebuilding their village in exchange for a cottage and some land.

“Yes, they seem to wanna get started as soon as possible.” he says sorting through paperwork “we have almost everything in place for you to take your leave, but I’ll need you to sign and look over a few things before then, if you accept of course.” Speaking as if he already made her mind up .

Ari’s eyes fixed on the letter rereading it over as if the words have changed. Her fingers find a loose thread on the end of her ruffled blouse. Her mind racing, she can’t seem to grasp what’s on the paper, knowing she’s been subconsciously asking for something to magically sweep her off her feet. Still she never thought anything like this would happen so quickly. She worries she’ll regret making a decision so vast. Dwelling on the thoughts of leaving everything behind a pit in her stomach forms.

The man looks up waiting for a reply from the woman hesitantly standing in front of him. He notices her russet eyes start to welt. Feeling the stare she meets his eyes. Her face reddens, embarrassed for being unable to keep her composure.

“What do you think Ari?” He asks

“Honestly sir?” She cleared her throat and straightened her stance “I’m not sure” she chuckled wiping a small tear before it could fall.

“Ari” he softened his posture “Lady Adeline and Lord Eliand speak very warmly of Mistria. And we both know you don’t shy away from work.” lightly smirking he ushers to the wall behind him. “You’ve helped us so much around here, sometimes i worry the jobs are much too easy for you.” he chuckles.

Ari agreed with her boss. The tasks she’d been given recently often left her unfulfilled. The Capital rarely had any interesting quests as of late.

the man leans forward resting his folded hands on the desk and continues.

“I’ve also heard good things of the townsfolk of Mistria. And Since we’re being honest i’ve yet to see you have connections with other members of the Adventurers Guild. I think we both know you’d thrive at this opportunity. Given your work ethic and their tight nit community” the man smiled warily.

Looking over the letter once more before folding and tucking it at her side, she takes in the dusty smell of the office. Her eyes veering across the golden etched plaques on the walls, Some wearing her name. He was right, humbly she understood she reached the qualifications needed to repair a town. While also admitting she hasn’t taken the time to make friends let alone acquaintances. The pit in her stomach dissipates.

She meets his eyes returning a small smile “You’re right Sir, I’d be honored, truly.”

The man gets up reaching out his hand “ We’ll miss you around here.” She takes his hand returning a light shake.

“I’ll be sure to write once I settle in.” She finally takes a seat while picking up the pen and signing the remaining paperwork.

*

Descending the carriage, Ari sighs taking in the smell of blooming florals, keeping her gaze on the swaying trees, lining the gravel road she’s stepped on. A slight breeze dancing through her rich brown curls. So enchanted with the raw nature of it all, she stands dazed.

The coachman clears his throat, shaking Ari out of her trance

“i apologize, but this is as far as ill take you. You’ll reach the town shortly by following that path there” he sheepishly points behind him.

Ari looks to the direction he pointed at following as the road seamlessly shifts from graveled pathing to dirt pathing

“no problem at all” she smiles

Tipping the man Tesserae, before gathering her luggage, she’d filled with clothes and smaller sentimental things, she balances all three bags comfortably around her body.

Once settled she moves toward the front of the carriage nodding to the coachman letting him know she’s gathered her belongings. She watches as he playfully salutes, before carefully turning the carriage around, departing back the way he came. she does the opposite.

Finding a steady pace, it doesn’t take long for her to reach a clearing in the trees, the sun now beaming down harsher than on the forest path. she cups the forehead above her eyes to better see the distance. she spots a beige sign tethered to the ground, listening to the faint sound of a waterfall flowing and churning, she hesitates before continuing on.

Reaching the sign, it reads “Mistria”. To the left of her the waterfall continues to plunge . Having a closer look she sees the water crashing against broken stone bridging.

“oh wow.” she whispers to herself while resting her hand on her hip.

“Hey there!” a voice calls a short distance from the other side of the busted bridge. She turns her body to better examine the person calling out.

She looks over his indigo shoulder length hair, whisking around in the breeze, his soft face tilted into a mischievous smirk. He wears a black and purple robe over a light grey loose fitted blouse, paired with burgundy trousers, and a matching satchel rested on his belt.

“Oh, hello! Is it safe to cross?” She shouts

Without responding the mysterious man leaps across the broken bridge landing on the shattered stone.

“This middle part here is sturdy and in place” he says tapping his foot to the stone.

sighing a breathe of relief she watches as the blue haired man outstretches his hand toward her.

“Allow me to assist you.” he grins easily reaching his eyes.

Ari takes his hand, she half leaps meeting him on the stone. “You must be the farmer” the man says

steadying herself against the man’s arms while facing him, she replies “something like that, yes”

She gains her balance letting go of his grasp. The man smiles resting his hands on his hips. “ Guessing they didn’t tell you about this bridge huh?” he rubs the nape of his neck sheepishly

“not at all” she replied looking behind him at the smaller, broken, bridge stone. he follows her view “it’s not so bad once you do it a few times” he says

He effortlessly hops to the next stone and extends his arm Ari grabs it, landing with grace. Closer now she catches the smell of leather mixed in an earthy scent. ‘he smells nice’ she thinks to herself. They hop once more reaching the other side. She turns watching the grass sway on the other side of the bridge.

“you must cross that bridge often.” she says facing the man

“yeah but not as often as i’d like. I’m Balor by the way” he curtsy’s “the traveling merchant of this town. Pleased to meet you”

She does the same, although not as graceful. “ My names Ari, nice to meet you” she smiles.

“I’m supposed to be meeting Lady Adeline and Lord Eiland.”

“Right! i can take you to them now.” he guides her down the dirt pathway.

*

Balor and Ari find a steady pace, the only sounds being unorganized shuffling of feet, birds singing above, and leaves dancing in the breeze.

Breaking the silence Balor speaks up

“may i assist you with your bags?” he stops to face Ari.

Ari looks up to Balor getting caught in his violet eyes, noticing how they almost glow in the sunlight beneath his dark blue hair. how pretty, she thinks.

“actually that’d be great.” she slips off the heaviest bag and hands it to him. “thanks.”

He nods before gently swinging it over his shoulder and continuing down the path.

“by the way, i appreciate all of your help so far.” she says readjusting her bags. “ it would’ve been upsetting if i’d of fallen in the water and wondered through town sopping wet, i’d like to leave an impression but maybe not that kind” she giggles.

Balor chuckles “it’s no burden, and i can assure you, you’ll have no trouble leaving a good impression,.” he pauses scratching the back of his head. “unless you’re anything like March that is.” he snickers.

Ari raises an eyebrow and tilts her head to the side.

“you’ll know who i’m speaking of when you meet him”

shrugging off what he said she continues

“do you like it here, in mistria?” she asks

Balor thinks for a moment before responding, his pace slowing.

“ I do, its rare to find people that actively care about another’s wellbeing. i’ve stayed in this town the longest simply because of that.”

“that’s lovely” she feels reassured given suddenly dropping everything to move. She lifts her head watching the birds above twirl in sync around one another. It feels as if a weight has been lifted off her shoulders

“you must move around a lot huh?” she asks before looking to Balor waiting for his response, he nods

“have you ever wondered about settling down somewhere?”

Balor stops his pace, Ari does the same. He ponders while raising a curved finger to his chin tapping a few times. “you know i haven’t thought about that.” he shifts his gaze to hers. “traveling’s all i’ve known really” he says while waving his hand slightly in a unsure manner.

“hm” she turns forward, starting their pace again. “yeah i get that. i didn’t start thinking of settling down until recently, and even so, it was more of a passing thought.” she paused, looking back to Balor, who hadn’t taken his eyes off her.

“But then we received that letter and it’s silly but i felt like.” hesitating she returns to the birds.

“ like deep down something was calling to me.” almost whispering that last part. she turns back to Balor searching his face. he’s hard to read. “ i’m not sure what it was saying but i knew i couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

something calling to her? how curious . he thinks to himself

“but honestly anything beats staying in the capital for too long.” she giggles

he laughs softly. “i can agree with you there, as profitable and lively as the capital can be, i’m not sure i would be persuaded to stay there long enough to call it home.”

She chuckles lightly.

“Speaking of we will be reaching your cabin soon, Eiland and Adeline should be close to finishing up.”

“i hope they aren’t working too hard on my behalf.”

Balor’s face wears a cheeky grin.

Upon reaching the cabin they’re met with a friendly, tall man standing beside the stairs to the door, leaning against the stone siding, lost in thought. He has pearly pink hair, styled in a fluffy, swooped over side part. His dangling earrings match the gold etched on his white cape, with maroon silk lining, also matching the golden accents on his slate colored dress suit, and the sash wrapped around his waist.

“Hey Eiland, look who i found at the bridge.” he points to Ari.

Snapping out of thought, Eiland stands facing the two, grinning cheek to cheek.

“ Ari, i presume?”

“yes, nice to meet you” she nods, extending her hand, he returns a gentle shake.

“you must be exhausted from your trip here!” he asks concerned

“ surprisingly no.” must be the nerves.

“ either way my sister, Adeline has been in your cabin for a while now making sure it’s in tip-top shape just for you, i offered to help but she shooed me off.” he playfully pouts.

Balor laughs “she has a point, you tend to get distracted” he teases.

“oh i know!” he rolls his eyes “besides i don’t shy from nature so it’s peaceful sitting out here.” he looks through the scattered trees watching the sun setting slowly above.

“two peas in a pod those ones.” Balor says gently nudging Ari, she smiles.

“well i should get to the inn, you’re in good hands Ari, i’ll make note to see you around.” he takes the bag from around his shoulder gently handing it back to her.

“thank you again.”

“my pleasure, truly!” he bows, keeping eye contact, grins, then takes his leave. She watches as he turns the corner. he’s interesting, handsome too. The thought bringing heat to her face.

“Charming isn’t he?” Eiland speaks up breaking the silence.

embarrassed she laughs, “yes, you both are.” he smirks.

Eiland steps to align himself beside Ari never taking his eyes off the sky, she follows his view. The breeze tickles their faces, and the crickets start to replace the melodies left from the birds.

“it’s nice out here.” she speaks

“ yes i find it to be quite entrancing out here.” he inhales.

“yeah, i’ve been wanting more time outside, the adventurers guild has been somewhat slow, i’ve missed this.” she looks over the trees spread throughout the land, the overgrown grass, riddled with sticks and stones. i’ve got hard work ahead of me. she worries.

“yeah i understand that feeling, it’s been slow here since the earthquakes, we’re all excited for your help, but don’t push yourself too hard kay’?”.

“no promises.” she winks dramatically.

he chuckles “let’s check on my sister shall we?” She nods.

he turns toward the steps, reaching the door. She follows a short bit behind, peering beside him. He opens the door to an exhausted voice.

“Eiland, please i’m almo-“ she wipes her forehead slick with sweat, smearing dirt further across it, she looks to the door, her eyes widen in surprise as a gasp escapes her. “ just a minute, sorry.” she pleads, swiftly slamming the door

In that short moment Adeline was seen sitting with one hand submerged in a bucket filled with soapy water, her shoulders exposed, and her light blush hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, her bangs fell messily against her olive skinned face.

“Oops.” he utters, embarrassed

Crashing and clunking can be heard from inside. A second later the door opens again. Standing there is Adeline, but she looks completely different from before. Wearing a similar cape to Eiland’s except hers drapes around her neck creating a collar. Paired with the same dangling earrings, and two gold bangles around each wrist. Her hair is styled in a half up half down ponytail, while her bangs fall effortlessly, framing her shiny, clean face. Not a drop of sweat to be seen.

“ Sorry about that” clearing her throat, she glares at Eiland before smiling to Ari. “I’m Lady Adeline, but please just call me Adeline, My brother and i have been excited to meet you.” she takes Ari’s hand into hers, pleasantly shaking it.

“thank you for taking my request” she almost squeals “why don’t you come in” she gently pulls Ari inside.

The cabin walls sparkle, the grey stone pairs well with the dark oak flooring. There’s a wooden table accompanied by a wooden chair, a green rug, a nightstand next to a full size bed, dressed with a yellow, green, and orange quilted comforter. and a small chest in the corner. The room smells of lemons and detergent. It’s warm from the wood in the fireplace quietly crackling.

“ Welcome to your new home.” she squeals.

“wow it’s really cozy” Ari steps to the fireplace warming her hands.

“i thought you might be hungry so i stopped by the inn and got you some of their veggie soup.” pointing to the steaming bowl on the table.

“thank you, i appreciate you doing all this for me.”

“no problem at all, it’s the least i could do, if you need anything, and i mean anything at all my door is always open.”

Eiland interrupts. “so’s mine, but i’m sure you’re tired, we won’t keep you any longer.”

“Right! let’s meet tomorrow so we can discuss the restoration of the town.” they shuffle to the door. “Welcome to Mistria, everyone’s glad to have you.”

The twins turn, grinning before leaving, closing the door behind them. the same smile, how cute. Ari thinks to herself, she strips her bags off, digging through the biggest one finding some shorts and a tank top. after changing she crawls into bed, easily drifting off to sleep.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦๑┈•✦

[threejiji]

bunny found

[tinymalloww]

You said I just had to survive. And you’d take care of me.