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artemis32 · 2 years

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Subjugation I

Yandere Erasermic x reader

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I've developed a thing for duo's

Also, warning, it's illuded to the the reader is / was a student, so if you're not into that, don't read it :)) reader is 18+ (around 19 to like 20-ish) so don’t get your panties in a twist

word count - 6.5k

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tw - violence and abuse (against reader), implied sa, kidnapping mentions, age gap (reader was their student), mentions of starvation (let me know if I missed anything - broader warnings in the tags)

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Part II

bnha masterlist

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Six months, two weeks, four days, fifteen hours, and thirty-two minutes.

"Hmm. I was thinking we could order out for dinner. I'm not really in the mood to cook. What do you think Shota?"

Mr Aizawa - Shota, he insists - hums.

"Sure."

You were positioned awkwardly on the couch, laying on it upside down with your legs thrown over the back, staring up at the ceiling. Boredom ate away at the corners of your mind.

Every few seconds you’d tap your foot to the rhythm of a non-existent song, then your limbs would fall limp as you recalled your boredom. The cycle had been on repeat for the past hour and a half.

The conversation between the two men paused for a moment, and you grit your teeth in annoyance as you prepared for what was about to come.

“Say sweetheart, any special requests for dinner?”

You stare up at the ceiling with a deadpan expression on your face.

“Not hungry,” you respond in a flat tone.

The silence that follows has you mentally groaning.

Please not today. Please leave me alone.

“Ah... sweets, that wasn’t my question. Come on now, there must be something you’re craving. Oh! What about that Thai place you used to go to? We haven’t had that in a while.”

I wonder why.

The words lay on the tip of your tongue, but you bite them back. Now isn’t the time to kick up a fuss. Not when you’d been behaving so well lately.

The words make you gag.

“Hizashi asked you a question.”

Your skin prickled. You hadn’t realised that they were still waiting for an answer.

Out of the two of them, Aizawa definitely instilled more of a fear in you than Yamada ever had. You tried not to dwell on why exactly that was the case.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you hummed.

“Fine. Whatever.”

A beat of silence passed before Present Mic started speaking again, attempting to ease the sudden oppressive atmosphere.

“If you’re bored, you’re welcome to join me. Cleaning isn’t the most entertaining thing in the world, but it passes the time. Or you could help Sho with his work - what do you think Shota?”

You sit up, stretching your arms high above your head, joints popping from the lack of movement.

“I’d rather eat glass than help either of you.”

The words are said so nonchalantly that it stuns them.

Mic laughs nervously. “Come on now, there’s no need to be so hostile, I’m just trying to help you.”

His words almost make you laugh. Help you? How ridiculous. To think that either of them were aiming to help you. They were denser than you thought.

“No thanks,” you bite the words out harshly.

You stand and make your way around the couch, past the dining room table where Aizawa is seated grading papers, towards the hallway that leads off to your - the - bedroom.

They may have labelled it as the bedroom that the three of you shared when you behaved “as a reward”, but it wasn’t your bedroom. This wasn’t your home.

You weren’t happy here, and you would never be.

Mic seems to deflate at your harsh tone, watching you pass by with a pout.

“Why do you hate us so much? You never used to be this hostile. Is it because we don’t let you watch TV - is it because we don’t take you outside anymore? You know that that’s your punishment for the last time you...”

He trails off, not needing to say anything more for you to understand what he meant.

You feel your restraint wearing thin, mentally begging him to shut up.

“Maybe if you behave, we can go to the backyard - or maybe the beach or something this weekend? Of course, you’ll have to be extra convincing.”

His suggestive words are what make you snap, bile rising up your throat.

“As if I’d ever want to go anywhere with either of you... You- you disgusting perverts!”

You regret it instantly, slapping your palm over your mouth as soon as the last syllable glides off of your tongue, but it's too late. The words had slipped out before you could stop to think about them, and you immediately know you’ve made a mistake.

Aizawa lunges out of his seat, straight at you, but you’re already moving, sprinting down the hallway towards the bedroom.

Your feet slip on the hardwood floors, and you almost shoot straight past the doorway to the bedroom, grabbing the door frame at the last second. You pull yourself into the room and whirl to slam the door behind you.

Aizawa slams against it, pushing you further into the room as you throw your entire body weight against the door, trying desperately to shut it.

“Apologise now and maybe I won’t thrash you.”

The words are said calmly. He’s barely out of breath, far too calm. You’re breathing rapidly, though that’s more because you’re frightened, and less because you’re physically drained.

“No, I meant every word,” you spit the words like venom. “Go fuck yourself. You’re disgusting and you know it!”

His words lend to your righteous anger, giving you the last bit of adrenaline you need to shove the door closed.

You say a small prayer of thanks to whatever lead you to run into the bedroom instead of the bathroom across the hall amidst your panicked sprint down the passage.

The bedroom was the only room in the house with a lock on the inside of the door, and the sound of the lock clicking into place seems to echo throughout the room, a final bell, ringing like a clock striking midnight.

You jump back slightly as Aizawa slams his hand onto the door. It seems to shake on it’s hinges for a moment.

“When you come out here, you’d better be ready to beg on your knees, or I might kill you. You remember what happened the last time. You remember the promise I made to you.”

The solid door between the two of you seems to give you an inflated sense of safety, and you let loose, consequences be damned.

“Beg you? Don’t make me laugh. I’m not coming out anytime soon, so you’d better get comfortable Mr Aizawa.”

His name, his title, it all comes out so mockingly.

Your heart continues to beat wildly in your chest, even though the danger has long since passed. You flop down onto the bed, a small smile on your face.

When you left the room, whenever that may be, you knew that one of them would be waiting for you. You also knew you were likely in for the beating of your life for how you had spoken to them. But in that moment, you got a sick sense of satisfaction out of their reaction to your words.

****

Months ago, when they had first kidnapped you - rescued you - you had been vicious with your hands, even more so with your words.

You would bite, scratch, slap, punch, kick, spit at them whenever they tried to get anywhere near you. They’d been patient with you, saying that they understood that you needed time to adjust, to accept your new life.

What a fucking joke.

When you realised that your physical resistance had no impact on them - of course it didn’t, they were two fully grown men, two seasoned pro-heroes - you had switched to verbal assault instead.

And you had been delighted to find that it seemed to cut them far deeper than any one of your weak kicks ever could.

So you went with it, calling them every vile name you could think of, spewing insults as if your life depended on it.

In a sense, it probably did.

One day, around two and a half months after you’d arrived at the Aizawa-Yamada residence, you learnt about exactly how far their patience for your venomous words went.

You’d been tired, having slept on the floor in the bathroom after being caught in an escape attempt the evening before. You’d been hungry, your meal privileges being revoked as an extra punishment for trying to fight them after they caught you. But most of all, you’d been mentally drained and scared, just like anyone else in your situation would have been.

Yamada had come to the bathroom to drag you to the dining room table, back to his usual cheery mood.

Any other day, you would have been able to grin and bear, but after months of being so constantly on your guard, you were sick and tired of entertaining his disgustingly joyous moods.

He had gently coaxed you into a seat, serving you a plate nearly overflowing with food. He fed you what he assumed to be motivating words, encouraging you to eat.

Aizawa sat across from you, eyeing you with a look you couldn’t describe.

For twenty minutes you sat there, staring down at the plate of food, watching the steam curl upwards in enchanting swirls.

The men across from you were having a whispered conversation, interrupted only when Yamada cleared his throat and addressed you.

“Honey, do you not like the food? I made all of your favourites...” he trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

You felt the weight of their stares on you, you felt months’ worth of pent-up emotion, you felt anger and resentment and sadness and fear, and you felt so tired.

You felt all of these things, and you felt nothing.

Slowly, you lifted your head, your stare boring into Yamada’s, then into Aizawa’s.

Shaking your head, you let out a soft, dry laugh.

Nothing about this situation was funny.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

You’d never seen Yamada - Present Mic? - Hizashi? - look so concerned.

It made you sick.

“The two of you... You’re...”

They seemed to be waiting for you, anticipation thick in the air as they sat on the edge of their seats.

“We’re what?” Aizawa asked sharply.

“Perverts. Disgusting, horrible, depraved perverts.”

The words were whispered under your breath, barely audible, but they heard it nonetheless.

They stiffened, and the tension in the room skyrocketed until you could barely breathe.

Everything seemed muted at that moment, almost as if it had been dulled. You felt as though you were having an out of body experience, and you knew that you’d messed up.

But even though you felt dread slowly crawling up your spine, settling over your mind, you found a sick sense of satisfaction in deathlike stillness you’d managed to pull over the room.

Aizawa was the first to react, huffing out a quiet laugh. It rumbled in his chest, growing a bit louder as he leaned back in his seat.

He let out a heavy sigh, as if he’d been holding it in for years, before standing up and making his way behind you.

You tensed as you felt his hands on your shoulders, kneading the tense muscles, urging you to relax.

He moved your hair to the side, leaning down with his mouth next to your ear. His proximity gave you goosebumps, and they rippled across your flesh as his breathe ghosted over your neck.

“How long have you been saving that one sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. It sounds mocking, and he says it with a sneer.

Your racing thoughts are interrupted as you feel his fingers lace through your hair. He does it softly, intimately, and for a single moment it feels like a lover’s caress, and you think, foolishly, that he’s trying to comfort you.

The picture-perfect moment is ruined as he pulls your head back and slams it into the table.

Ringing fills your ears, and your vision is fuzzy, but all you can think about is the fact that Yamada had moved the plate of food out of the way mere seconds before your face had connected with the tabletop.

You weren’t sure if that made you feel better or not.

Aizawa yanked you back up by your hair, getting close to inspect the damage he had inflicted on you.

“Perverts huh? Let me give you a piece of advice sweetheart. You say something like that again, you’ll have a hell of a lot more to worry about than just a night without dinner. I swear to you, I’ll beat you black and blue.”

His words scare you. His actions scare you more.

Fingers still laced through your hair, he drags you to the bathroom and throws you in before crouching down in front of you as you lay sprawled on the floor.

“And in the future, if you really think we’re so perverted, maybe we should prove it to you. Hell, maybe we should do it anyway - give you a real reason to be scared of us.”

He stays there, staring, waiting for an answer.

Your cheeks feel wet.

When did you start crying?

You nod your head slowly, cautiously.

“I’m sorry... I won’t say it again, I- I promise.” Lies.

Aizawa nods before standing up. He towers above you, making you feel smaller and more vulnerable than you had in a long time.

“I think after you ruined dinner like that, you deserve another night on the floor. Hopefully tomorrow you’ll have a better attitude.”

He slams the door shut, leaving you dazed and shaking, your face bruised and bloody.

****

You’d been especially timid for months after that incident, toning down all your escape attempts and physical assaults and verbal abuse. You were still cold and harsh, you still spat and kicked and spewed venomous words, but you knew when to hold back. You saw the tell-tale signs of their patience wearing thin and you’d back off for a while, or at least until they’d calmed down.

It was a never-ending cycle, something that could be likened to a game or a dance, and it was exhausting.

But through all that, you never once uttered that word again.

And true to his word, neither Aizawa or Yamada had touched you, though they’d both made plenty of sexual innuendos and snide remarks, even going as far as to talk about exactly how good they could make you feel.

It all made you so sick, but you never said anything, never made a remark like you had that day.

****

Six months, two weeks, five days, three hours, and sixteen minutes.

The room was stiflingly hot when you woke up.

You didn’t remember falling asleep but buzzing off of so much adrenaline must have tired you out more than you’d thought.

Sitting up with a groan, you rubbed your eyes and surveyed the room.

Everything was the same as it had been when you'd dozed off. The dresser you'd shoved in front of the door hadn't moved an inch.

You stumbled slightly when you stood, dizzy from laying down for so long. Once your head had settled, you made your way to the ensuite bathroom.

Again, you said a small prayer of thanks, grateful that you at least had the privilege of a bathroom during this stalemate.

That's exactly what it was, you realised.

You didn't intend on leaving anytime soon, you'd been truthful when you told Aizawa that. But you also knew that they wouldn't back down, and that you were in for a lashing if you were to leave your newfound safe haven.

A small part of you was terrified.

Because you knew that you would eventually have to leave the safety of these four walls. And you knew what awaited you when you did. But you pushed those thoughts to the very back of your mind, shoving it into the box of things that you swore not to think about if you could avoid it.

On the bright side, you had a bathroom, fresh water, and there were various snacks hidden throughout the room, courtesy of Yamada and his bottomless pit of a stomach.

You made it to the bathroom without stumbling again and went about taking care of your business.

Ten minutes later, you realised you had zoned out, staring up at the bathroom window. The sight of it brought back some unwanted memories.

****

You had only attempted to escape twice since being taken, a number you thought the two men should be thankful for. You may have been cold and rude, but at least you didn’t give them many problems.

That was probably part of the reason they’d kept you around.

The first time you had tried to run away had been planned out in painstaking detail, and you’d accounted for almost every possibility. That probably also lent to the anger you’d felt at being caught, and the words that had followed.

It was also the reason that every window and vent in the house was barred up. It made you feel like more of a prisoner than you already were.

The two men had left for work that morning, as they usually did, and Yamada had showered you with promises of a lavish dinner and gifts when he returned. You had to swallow back the bile that you felt rising up your throat.

Part of your plan - probably the biggest deciding factor - had been patience. You had to wait, and wait, and wait, and wait. You never knew if they would decide to call off work and spend the day here instead.

You wouldn’t want them to catch you midway through an escape.

After what felt like hours of waiting, but was truthfully only an hour and a half, you made your move. The anxiety coursing through your veins made every noise ten times louder, and it felt as though time was slipping through your fingers as you hurriedly unscrewed the heavy metal grille covering the bathroom vent.

As much as you would have loved to climb out the window, you weren’t fond of the thought of falling twelve stories down, no matter how desperate you were to get away.

The next best option was the vents, and you had spent days learning the layout of the apartment, trying to come up with a mental map of what the rest of the floor of the building would look like.

It had been exhausting, but you couldn’t leave any written trace of what you were planning - not when the two pro-heroes picked up on every shift in your mood, every slight change in routine.

Keeping up the pretence of going about your daily routine that morning had been difficult too. You had to fight the urge to stare off into space, thinking over your plan again - but more than that, you had to fight the urge to look at the lifted floorboards where you had stashed the few tools you needed to open and close the vent without suspicion.

There had been a moment, right before Aizawa had left, that you’d felt your anxieties rise. In that split second, it felt almost as if he were looking through you, rather than at you, with a look on his face that you couldn’t quite describe.

But he’d left without saying anything - no warning words, no cautious looks, nothing.

Honestly, their lack of suspicion was likely the main reason you got caught - it made you too confident, cocky even.

It had taken you an hour to destroy the apartment, fifteen minutes to open up the vent, five minutes to clamour into the narrow passageway with the few tools you’d decided to keep with you, and nearly twenty-five minutes to close the vent again. Evidently, it wasn’t as easy to close it when you were inside the vent.

But you’d done it all, and it hadn’t even taken two hours.

You felt somewhat proud in that moment.

That same pride had been what got you caught.

Stumbling through the ventilation system, you’d realised how far off the mark you were with your mental layout of the building. It felt as though you were crawling around in circles.

You lost track of time. That had been the final nail in your metaphorical coffin.

The two men had returned home, talking about some or other recent hero rescue. They fell silent as they entered the apartment and saw the destruction you’d wrought.

Originally, you had hoped that they would think you had been abducted, or that they would think that you tore the place apart in an attempt to find a tool to escape.

Wishful thinking on your part.

They immediately closed the front door, set their things down, and walked to the room you tended to lock yourself in when they returned.

You never found out exactly what their reaction had been to the scene they stumbled upon in that room, and deep down you knew you didn’t want to.

The damages to all their possessions hadn’t angered them as much as your refusal to come out.

“We know you’re in the vents sweetie. Please just come out. We can talk about this - you’ve been so well behaved, we’re willing to be lenient with you. If you come out now, we won’t even punish you, you just have to help tidy up.”

You probably should have taken Mic up on that offer, but you were too stubborn, too sure of yourself.

Anytime they got anywhere near you, you’d quietly crawl away. You spent hours like that, shimmying through the vents, dodging them, blocking out their words.

Yamada was kind, trying to reason with you, cutting deals with you.

Aizawa remained quiet for the first few hours, helping Yamada look, but never saying anything.

He had reached his limit when Yamada silently whispered to him.

“This isn’t working - it’s getting late, she must be tired and hungry, can you help speed things up?”

Then the threats had started.

Threats of punishments, violent, invasive, perverse punishments.

It continued for hours.

You’d like to think that if you had become a hero, they would have applauded your grit in a situation like this. They didn’t seem to appreciate it though.

It probably would have continued on for a while, until they had to sleep, or leave for work, or until you found an exit. It would have continued, had Aizawa not shattered your hope of escape in one fell swoop. With a few words, all of your time, patience and determination crumbled.

“If you’re looking for an exit, you’ll be up there forever. We take up this whole floor, and the vent doesn’t go down.”

This apartment takes up the whole floor? That’s not possible...

He continued talking, oblivious to your sudden panic.

You don’t remember a lot of what he said, but you got the general idea that though the apartment wasn’t big, the entire floor belonged to them, and they had made sure that the vents wouldn’t lead out or down in any direction.

Dazed and absorbed in your thoughts, you didn’t realise they had found you until you were being dragged out by your ankle.

The lights were harsh after hours of sitting in the dark, and the look of Aizawa’s face had scared you half to death. Yamada had swooped in to save you, saying that as punishment, you’d be sentenced to sleeping the in bathroom until further notice.

Aizawa had added that you wouldn’t be getting any meals until you proved that you were actually sorry.

Of course, that situation had ended quite violently a few days later.

****

Your second and final escape attempt had been... messy, for lack of a better word.

It wasn’t something you had planned for weeks in advance. You hadn’t even been thinking about escape at all.

But the opportunity had presented itself so neatly, so perfectly timed.

And they hadn’t suspected anything. It had been so long since your previous attempt, nearly five months.

You had remained in the same apartment, and you had seemingly learnt your lesson. They both often applauded your wonderful change in attitude, saying how nice it was that you acted so sweetly for them now. As if they hadn’t threatened to beat you to a pulp, or worse.

It had been a Wednesday evening, and both men were tired after a long day of work. Yamada had decided that it was a good night to order in - neither he nor Aizawa wanted to cook, and even if they trusted you with knives, you had made it clear that you would never cook for them.

If you did, you would probably end up feeding them glass.

You hadn’t said much, agreeing with whatever they wanted as you focused on the TV.

There was some old Spanish movie playing. You hadn’t been paying attention.

Yamada sat next to you, trying and failing to get you to lay against him.

Like a real couple should.

Aizawa sat on your other side, watching the movie with half-hearted interest, listening to Yamada ramble on about when dinner would arrive.

Fifteen minutes later, you decided that you needed the bathroom.

When you stood up, Yamada rose as well, claiming he wanted to grab a bottle of wine and a few glasses for when the food arrived.

The two of you had just barely moved, hardly a step away from the couch, when the doorbell rang.

That in itself wasn’t unusual. The bell rang all the time.

Only this time, the delivery guy announced that someone had let him up - he was waiting right outside the door to hand off the delivery.

Adrenaline was a strange thing. It heightened your senses, it warped time and made it feel as though you were wadding through honey.

The two men looked at one another, Hizashi beside you, Shota on the couch. Then they looked at you.

You all stood there for a moment, a split second. They seemed to be warning you, urging you make the right decision, even though you all knew exactly what you were about to do.

Without saying anything, you turned on your heel and started sprinting towards the front door.

Yamada’s heavy footfalls behind you told you that he was close - too close.

You would have thrown yourself to the side, out of his way. Or maybe you would have tried to run a bit faster. Hell, you might even have stopped, if common sense had caught up to you sooner.

But the intercom crackled to life once more, the delivery guy calling out once more, and your mind was made up.

The front door was in your sights. A few more steps and you would have been able to brush your fingers against the stained hardwood.

Yamada’s arm coiled around your waist and he yanked you back, hard.

The air was knocked out of your lungs as you both fell to the ground with a heavy thump.

You opened your mouth to scream, to cry out. He would have heard you. The door was close enough, he would have heard you.

Yamada seemed to sense what you wanted to do, slapping his palm over your mouth as soon as you took a breath.

You laid there struggling as Aizawa walked past, his eyes flashing as he made his way to the door.

The hand on your face felt bruising, gripping your jaw harder when your tears made your cheeks slippery. You lay there for a few more minutes, trying to wrestle yourself out of Yamada’s iron grip.

Aizawa closed the door and made his way back you. When he crouched down in front of you, your body went limp.

Your only chance had slipped through your fingers. Again.

Luck was clearly not on your side.

They stopped pretending to trust you after that.

A few weeks after that, you moved.

The city centre was no place for such a happy family to be living, or at least that’s what they claimed. So you moved into a house, large and sturdy, in the middle of nowhere.

It was hidden away from the public eye, hidden by trees and acres of land and hundreds of road and trails that led nowhere.

Perfect for them. A nightmare for you.

They still barred the windows, shut the doors tight with too many locks.

A part of you told you that you weren’t that far from civilisation. After all, they still had to frequently travel to the city for work.

But the rational part of your brain, the one that had twisted and grown to learn all of their less than likable traits knew that they would move as far as they had to if it meant keeping you hidden. Even if that meant a three- or four-hour commute to the city, even if it meant living in some backwater town that seemed barely inhabitable.

****

Since your last escape attempt, it had been somewhat peaceful. But so, so boring.

And since your last tantrum, as they had taken to calling any show of defiance - whether that was an attempt at escape or something else - it had been six months, three weeks, four hours, and forty-two minutes.

It felt almost pathetic to keep such a stringent record of the time between “punishments”, but it kept you sane.

You reckoned that it had been just over a year since they had kidnapped you, but time became difficult in the days after your two escape attempts, so you’d taken to counting the days, hours, minutes after the punishments instead.

Now, it had been about half a week since you’d angered them. Pushing their buttons, making Aizawa specifically lose his temper so quickly, it felt cathartic.

Yamada stopped by the room every few hours, telling you he left food right outside the door, slipping bits of paper through the gap between the door and the floor, sitting for hours at a time just to talk to you about his day - trying to make you feel bad, if you were to wager a guess.

He even went as far as to beg a few times. You’d hear him crying, whispering through hiccups, asking you to please just end this. He was a good actor; you’d give him that much.

The snacks hidden throughout the room had run out on your second day cooped up in the room, but you hadn’t allowed yourself the time to panic about it. Thinking about leaving the safety of these four walls made you sick.

Though perhaps if you looked sickly enough, Aizawa might take it easy on you.

You shudder to think about what twisted sort of beating you’d receive after this. You were hoping, praying for a solution, holding out for something - for anything. You just weren’t sure what exactly that anything was.

****

Six months.

Three weeks.

Two days.

Fourteen hours.

Fifty-two minutes.

It had been almost a week. You were hungry, but more than that - you were so tired. Paranoia had started creeping in, and you couldn’t sleep. Every time you dozed off, you’d wake up in a panic. The slightest sounds set you off.

You knew that you’d have to leave the room soon, even if it were only to grab something from the kitchen. You knew that they took turns staying home, waiting for you to leave the room.

Moving the heavy dresser was easy enough. Moving it quietly took years off of your life.

Now all there was to do was wait.

Thankfully, Aizawa tended to keep books on his bedside table - many of which you had read over the past few days to pass the time. His tastes didn’t exactly suit your own, but it wasn’t as if you had anything better to do.

You’d read about four or so of his books, rearranged all of the furniture in the room, hell, you’d been bored enough to clean - both the bedroom and the attached bathroom - you’d even gone through their closet, hosting what you’d deemed a fashion show.

So far you felt as though you’d done a decent job of keeping your boredom at bay, but you were running out of things to do. And your idle mind led to your hunger becoming more apparent.

Four hours later, a gentle knock on the door pulled your attention away from the book you were reading - some or another thriller novel.

“Hey sweetie, I’m leaving your lunch out here...”

Hizashi’s words trailed off as he spoke softly under his breath. You didn’t catch the rest of his sentence.

“Okay, well... I- Both Shota and I hope you decide to come out soon.”

To be completely honest, you were very surprised that they hadn’t forced their way in yet. How they would achieve that, you weren’t sure, but you knew that if they really wanted to, they could have.

Not that it mattered - while the anxiety of waiting had been slowly taking over your mind, it had been a nice break, a change of pace to have them out of your personal space for such an extended period of time.

You loitered near the door for a while, watching the minutes tick by on the bright digital clock next to Hizashi’s side of the bed.

After nearly an hour and a half, you stood and reached for the door handle with a quivering hand. For some reason, you felt a growing sense of apprehension.

It’s fine. Just be quick about it - no need to psych yourself out.

Just open the door, grab the food, and get back into the room. There ain’t nothing to it.

After one last quick, deep breath, you unlocked the door. The click of the lock seemed so loud - too loud.

Regardless, you tell yourself that there’s no point in backing out now, not when the door was already unlocked.

Grab the food, shut the door.

The handle moves smoothly as you pull in downwards, cracking the door open an inch. You spy out into the hallway, hardly daring to breathe.

Grab the food, shut the door.

The hinges on the door seem to screech out in the silence - you tell yourself that the adrenaline is making it sounder louder than it actually is.

Grab the food, shut the door.

You’re straining your ears, trying to hear through the sound of the roaring in your head.

Grab the food, shut the door.

It’s right there. A large bowl of soup - maybe miso? There’s another bowl next to it, slightly smaller, filled with rice.

The sight of food so nearby makes your mouth water.

Grab the food, shut the door.

You look around cautiously, left, down the long passageway, towards the dining room and the kitchen, and then right, towards the office shared between the two men and the spare bedroom.

Nothing.

Rather than letting out a sigh of relief, you quickly lean forward and grab both bowls, jumping back into the room and slamming the door behind you.

Setting the bowls down on the dresser takes far longer than you’d like, but before you can linger on the stupidity of slamming the door, you twist the lock into place and slump against the door.

You had split some of the soup - miso, you’ve now confirmed - and the floor was slippery with the remnants of it. Just as you were about to move away from the door, intent on cleaning up the mess, there was a knock at the door.

“Sweetheart? Did you take the food? Are you okay in there?”

Yamada. It’s just Yamada.

Your heart is racing as you choke out a response.

“Um, yeah, I- I’m fine.”

Too close.

You ignored whatever he said next, going about cleaning up the mess you’d made. While you were crouched down on the floor, you thought about how exactly you’d have to ration the food you’d been given. You weren’t eager to have a repeat of the experience you’d just had.

****

Despite your plan to ration out the food you’d painstakingly acquired, you’d eaten it all within a few hours.

You originally stuck to your plan, eating only a few tablespoons from each bowl. But the aroma rising from each bowl, so tantalisingly close, had almost felt like torture.

And so, three hours later, despite your seemingly unwavering will, both bowls were empty and you were happy.

The problem of getting food again whenever you needed it would have to wait for another time, you decided.

After a scalding hot shower and a bit of pampering, you got into bed with a smile on your face for the first time since you had locked yourself up in this room. You felt so much better after eating, even your paranoia had eased up a bit.

Tomorrow, you’d think about what to do. Perhaps it was time for you to try and get out again. Or maybe you’d come up with some sob story speech for the two men. Or maybe you would stay holed up in this room for another week or two.

Regardless, you fell asleep content and warm, feeling almost happy.

****

When you awoke hours later, your head felt heavy, limbs weighed down, tongue heavy in your mouth.

The sounds around you were muffled, as if the world had been plunged under water.

You heard two voices.

What happened? Where am I?

The voices grew closer, though you still couldn’t make out their words.

It was as if a switch had been flipped in that moment. One second you were dazed - confused and slightly uncertain, but comfortable, and the next it felt as though there was ice flowing through your veins.

They had drugged the food.

They had drugged the fucking food.

You felt so stupid. Why had you not for one second considered the fact that they may have drugged the food they’d been leaving outside your door?

Maybe you could pretend that you were still sleeping. But how long would that last? What would you do once they realised that you were awake?

In fact, you didn’t even know how long you’d been unconscious for, or where you were. You knew nothing and you felt the tidal wave of growing anxiety beginning to wash over you.

Above all of your questions and concerns, you felt like a scared child. You had always known that they would eventually get you out of your safe zone, but right now, you had no idea what they planned on doing to you.

Not knowing made the fear even worse.

You almost threw up when you felt a hand resting gently on your arm, squeezing softly to get your attention.

“Don’t worry honey, we won’t punish you just yet. The anxiety of waiting, of not knowing - that’s all part of the fun, isn’t it?”

#yandere #dark content #female reader #bnha #mha #eraserhead #present mic #yandere erasermic #yandere erasermic x reader #yandere aizawa x reader #yandere hizashi yamada #yandere hizashi x reader #yandere aizawa shouta

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jinkookspencil · 1 year

Text

game night | jjk

it's your turn to host game night, and an exciting, undressing game awaits jungkook at home....

author's note, please read: THIS IS A REPOST OF MY ORIGINAL FIC! i made a post saying i'm done writing smut and wanted to go back and edit/delete my older smutty fics. this is the first one i'm dealing with (i still don't know what I'll do about the others, they might just get deleted entirely without a repost like this one, so read them while you can!). the "smut smut" has been edited out. i hope you guys understand.

description/tw/tags: ~3k words / one-shot / established relationship / established relationship / suggestive / i hope you guys like it! feedback is appreciated & welcome :)

Dating Jungkook was a lot of fun. So fun that well into your time together, you both doubted a “honeymoon phase” ever existed in relationships and pitied anyone who said it did - every minute of your relationship had been a prolonged “honeymoon phase" with nothing changing since you first got together. You never had to find ways to keep your time together interesting, sexy, or fun…. they just were. It’s how you both were, even before meeting each other, and, sure enough, it’s how you both fell in love. Your wacky ideas either complimented or impressed the other, and your traditions - even the most routine ones - were always treats you looked forward to. Especially…game night.

A routine tradition that never seemed so, for most game nights were different. There were the classic video game or board game nights, switching up the games, the settings, and the characters you played to keep it interesting. There were the innocent games that surprisingly not always turned not-so-innocent since you and Jungkook just loved playing them regardless… (though his genius suggestion of “hide and seek in the dark” that one time did result in one of the steamiest nights of your life). Similarly, there were bedroom nights when you and Jungkook spent more time naked in the bed than you thought was humanly possible, teasing and toying for hours… And there was also, “serious business” - when you and Jungkook sat down with a super serious mindset - whether it was a 1000-piece puzzle, the hardest Lego sets you could find, or Mario Kart.

Tonight, it was your turn to plan game night. That’s all Jungkook knew when he walked in from work that evening. After coming up with such a genius idea - the perfect blend of every game category you’d established, you had to keep it a secret til the last minute…. and make the little brat wait a little.

“Baby!” Jungkook calls the moment he steps through the front door of the apartment, the enthusiasm is his voice clear as day. “I’m starving. You said you made me something, didn’t you? What’s tonight’s game? What’s tonight’s game night dessert? I’m ready to eat, I’m ready to game, and I’m ready for you. Tell me.” He slams his hands excitedly on the kitchen table, wiggling his eyebrows. “Tell me - what do you have planned?”

“Patience, baby. Take a bit of this donut first,” you tell your boyfriend, feeding him one of the sugared donuts you’d baked for the night.

“Mmm,” he moans, his brows furrowing as he licks his lips and tilts his head forward, asking for another bite. “If the game is ‘how many donuts can we eat in one sitting’, you are going down, baby.”

He smiles, taking the entire donut in his hands and eating at it until he finds the tray full of them on the coffee table, grabbing another one. “This is almost as good as the pancakes we made last week… And the syrup I ended up licking off of your tummy was the sweetest thing...”

“Eat up, Kook,” you laugh, seeing your adorable boyfriend stuff his face with desserts, as he always did, with an angry yet complimentary expression on his face. “You’ll need the energy.”

“What will I need energy for? Not complaining, let me figure it out....” He looked around the living room, which looked exactly as it always did, save for the extra pillows you set up on top of the mattress Jungkook placed in front of the TV. “The PS5 is turned off, the Switch is turned off, no pens or paper, no board games in sight, I need energy…..” Jungkook recounts, trying to piece together the puzzle. “Is it hide and seek or 'the floor is lava' again? A new remix? In the dark?”

“Not exactly,” you say, bending to pick out the box of UNO playing cards you’d wedged between the pillows. “Let’s play.”

“UNO?” The look of disappointment on Jungkook’s face is undeniable - no matter how hard he tries to hide it, the little pout sticks out. After a full day of teasing and keeping it a mystery…. UNO, he wonders. “I- okay, baby, if that’s what you want. I have to admit I thought you’d be a little more creative. And hey, why would I need energy for UNO? Is it because I have to keep up with you and your little tantrums when you lose?”

You roll your eyes. “You wer right about something, stupid. There is a remix. UNO with a twist,” you tease your boyfriend, quickly kissing his neck before tugging on his t-shirt, your hand swiftly slipping beneath the fabric and grazing his solid abs. Nestled into his neck, you reveal the game you had planned. “Strip UNO.”

The shift in his demeanor is immediate.

“Strip UNO? Yeah?” he asks with wide eyes and a menacing smirk, rubbing his nose against yours. “Yeah, damn. This is new. This is you. You’re all sexy suggesting stuff like this. I just know.... it'll end with angry - sorry, passionate - sex. Oh, you always bite me extra hard when you're angry. I can't wait.”

“Don’t get too confident, baby. I think I can beat your ass.”

He scoffs. “Hah, we’ll see about that.” Looking down, he sees himself disappointed at how few layers you both have on… it’s usually the other way around, with him being disappointed that you had too many layers on. Still, the gaze is the same. Tempting. Excited. Calculating.

“Let’s layer up and take this slow. I don’t want to get you naked too quickly in this cold.” You follow him into the bedroom, grabbing as many items as you can fetch before hiding away in the bathroom to layer up. Knowing how this’ll end, you’re sure to switch out your bra for the black low-cut, lacy push-up bra that Jungkook loved so much. He’d get you to that stage regardless…. might as well fluster him, you think, smiling as you put on the matching underwear,

After layering up, you walk out of the bathroom to see Jungkook bundled up in just as many layers…. even pulling out a puffer jacket and a beanie he looked adorable in. How was this supposed to be a sexy game when Jungkook looked like one giant boba ball walking around your apartment?!

“Gkaja,” he grins, a wide, proud smile on his face thinking he has an advantage over what seems to him as your fewer layers.

Plopping down on the living room mattress in more layers than you could count with the plate of donuts by your side - it was game time.

“Let’s go.”

“Uno!” You scream, holding up your final card in your hands while laughing at the eight in Jungkook’s. Seconds later, when he plays a card, and you put down your final card, the round is finally over.

“Hah,” you smirk. “Finally. Take your t-shirt off, Jeon.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook takes off his tee and discards it onto the pile of clothes on your side, leaving him in the long-sleeved t-shirt he wore underneath, his favorite grey sweatpants, and his socks.

“My puffer jacket, my beanie, my hoodie, my sweater….” he sighs, shuffling and distributing cards. “You must’ve rigged this. I thought I’d get you fully naked by now but it’s alright. I already won enough rounds to make you get rid of your sweater, your jacket, your cardigan, your socks, your extra skirt, and your crop top - genius addition by the way, ….. Now you’ve just got your pants, a t-shirt, and I’m assuming underwear underneath. Piece of cake.”

Sure enough, he wins the next round.

“Finally, let’s see that bra, baby,” he giggles, but not as loud as you do when you take off your t-shirt to reveal the tank top you wore underneath.

“Fucking…”, Jungkook resigns, scratching his forehead. “Another hidden layer… It’s not fair. It’s not fair. I tried - guys just can’t layer as much as girls do. They don't make as many layers in as thin fabrics for us.”

“You could’ve worn your muscle tee underneath."

He looks up at you to shoot you a glare, but his expression turns into a suspecting one, catching how low the neckline of the tank top went, the lace of his favorite bra creeping out, and, more importantly, your cleavage - almost on full display. Before he could say anything, you jump up from your spot, making sure your chest bounced a little more than they usually would.

“I’ll just grab us some water,” you say slowly, walking over to the kitchen to get two glasses of water before returning to find Jungkook frozen in his spot, the cards from the previous round still unshuffled in front of him.

“Kook? The cards?”

“Hmm?” he coos, looking up at you, then at the cards, taking them in his hands. “Oh.”

You bend down to place Jungkook’s glass by his side, making sure he got a clear view down your bra the second your chest meets his eyeline before you sit back down with your glass. It takes another moment for Jungkook to return to the cards, quietly shuffling and distributing them.

“You go first,” he says before he pinches the skin at his wrist, just as he did when he tried to sit through a movie you wanted to watch that he found boring. You could practically read his thoughts at that moment - Stay focused. Stay focused. Stay focused. He didn’t need to say anything for you to know it - his sugary fingertips digging into his skin did all the talking.

The game goes on until you yell “Uno!” to which Jungkook sighs.

“Fuck, I just realized I have a yellow card I could’ve played,” he groans, putting down a green one with a pout, finally allowing you to end the game as the winner.

“Distracted, baby?”, you tease, leaning all the way down and bringing your arms together, emphasizing your chest and cleavage even further. “It’s okay if you wanna give up now.”

You drink in the sight of Jungkook standing up to take off his white t-shirt, revealing his toned chest and abs underneath.

“Let’s see who gets distracted now,” he mutters, eating an entire donut in two bites before shaking his head in concentration, the furrowed expression on his face one of frustration at the game and delight in the carby dessert’s immediate sugar rush. Licking his lips, Jungkook quietly reshuffles the cards and distributes them once again, starting - and winning the round with a laser focus, as though UNO was never a game of luck but skill, one that he had been honing his entire life.

“Hah,” he says, a wide smile finally returning to his face as he wiggles his eyebrows and leans back on his elbows. “Strip. Strip for me, slut.” Jungkook never commanded you with words like that except in the roughest of times…. but the giddy expression on his face is too cute. It was his frustration and horniness talking - and that excitement only thrilled you further…. Was it that much of a torture for him to wait to get you undressed? That sexy smirk on his face after he licked his lips seemed to prove it...

You laugh, taking in his entire form as he was, from his anticipating expression all the way down to his legs and wiggling toes, each one individually covered by his toe socks. Taking off your tank top, he sees your chest in all of its glory, held by his favorite bra.

Don’t wear it often. Surprise me with it every now and then, he had once said. You were just following his orders, every single time… And Jungkook reacted as he always did. Almost a reflex, his head tilted forward, eyes growing wider as his tongue peeked out from between his lips....

But, unlike all those times, he remembers himself when the tank top lands on his lap instead of the pile of discarded clothes.

“Fuck you,” he says with a slight laugh, scratching his head, his eyes never leaving your chest. “I knew it. I thought I recognized the lace.”

“As I said - do you want to end the game here, baby?” you ask, leaning back and away from him while tracing the trim of the lace with your fingertips. “It’s alright, you know. I can win.”

He looks up at your face. “Oh, I’ll do whatever I want as soon as I win…. “ Jungkook surveys the room, obviously trying to come up with a scheme to trick and distract you and level with you…. and when he turns to face you again, there’s something dark in his eyes. “Plus, I have my ways too, baby.”

And so the messiest, sloppiest game of UNO commences. It's hard to pinpoint what Jungkook didn't do next. It was all too desperate - desperate for you - and so, all too sexy. From pouring his glass of water over his head and torso and flexing his toned, muscled, and tattooed arms - your known weakness - to eating a donut while recreating an expression he only ever had when he'd been between your legs and at one point, rubbing at the area over his sweatpants - a submission seemingly at the tip of his tongue... The tongue you'd missed so badly...

Before you knew it, Jungkook won, and you had 18 cards in your hands… and you couldn’t tell if his groans were fake anymore.

A grunt rebelliously escaped his body when you admitted defeat and take off your leggings. With his hands by his side, he gives you a clear view of his glistening body and visible bulge as he leans back, prepared to watch you undress... Keeping your eyes on Jungkook, you slowly find the waistline of your leggings, pulling them down to reveal the underwear that came with the bra he loved so much….

“Oh, fuck,” he grunts as you plop back down on the mattress in a criss-cross position, giving him a clear view of everything he wanted to see. “I forgot the bra was part of a set.”

With your focus drowned out by the thought of one another and the growing tension in the air, you and Jungkook didn't take notice if you were playing correctly or even pulling the right amount of cards from the deck. All you knew was that, somehow, Jungkook won the round. And by that point, you both had enough.

The second your hand finds your bra hooks at your back, Jungkook leaps across and over you, grabbing your hands before they’re able to unhook it in defeat. Pushing your body towards his face, Jungkook hungrily kisses and bites at your chest. “Fuck,. Keep it on,” he moans, biting the bow that sat right between. Everything he did after had been either heavenly or adorable, but the best part was the feeling of him smiling against your skin at the sounds of your gasps and both of your slight giggles. No matter what, Jungkook always found new ways to play with you, and he was surely having fun, his sugary lips stuck to his saliva on your skin and sprinkling over your bra.

“The donuts didn’t fill your appetite, huh, babe?” you whisper, kissing the top of his head where your fingers have been toying with his long hair. He licks the skin with a whine that nearly sends you into overdrive.

At your dual realization of the fabrics between you, Jungkook eagerly stands up and takes off his sweatpants, boxers, and socks all at once, chucking them to the other side of the room before grabbing your underwear at your hips and pulling them off of you - all in a matter of seconds.

You chuckle at Jungkook’s haste before your naked bodies meet. He starts placing soft, quick kisses on your chest, almost having had his fill of the area for the night, before he kisses down your torso, his hands roaming your soft body all the way down...

....

“So… before we go for round 2….” Jungkook begins through heavy breaths, hovering above you once more “….who won game night?”

“I did, obviously,” you laugh.

“What, you won because I fucked you so well?” Jungkook immediately snaps back with a proud grin, looking up at you. “That's a win, but I'm sorry baby, I won the last round of UNO, remember?”

You wrap your arms around his neck. “Baby, you jumped on me. You stopped the game and gave in. You got turned on first. You made a move first. You are naked. I am not. I won.”

“Technically, by wearing that slutty, beautiful little bra - you made the first move, babe. ”

“Well, that first move ensured me the win, Koo. That's the whole point, baby - who can get naked first. Didn't you realize I was giggling so much? It was a laugh of a champion.”

“I thought I was just being adorable. I thought you were having fun."

“You always are, baby…. And it was fun as fuck. But I won,” you tease, booping his nose with a kiss.

“So what, I’m a loser for not being able to resist you? For having the most perfect girlfriend in the world? Nah, that’s not losing.” Jungkook’s lips meet yours in a kiss. “I win.”

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katcoquette · 2 years

Text

Who’s Winning?

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x f!Reader

masterlist | taglist

summary: you run into Jake on a night out with friends and decide to make the most out of the unexpected meet-up with another game, and this time, the rules are so simple, you don't think either of you will be able to cheat.

★ word count: 4k

★ tw/tags: SMUT! 18+ please I'm so serious, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, some filthy words, not a ton, but some, sexual tension

★ author's note: i'm baccckk (; part two of Too Many Games (but not unnecessary to read to understand the plot) & two months late but I gotta keep you on your toes. sweat and tears went into this y'all, sweat and tears. this came to me in a dream, and then I got carried away, enjoy <3

The next time you see him is outside of work, but at a bar nonetheless. His face is a welcome addition to your night out with friends at a local western club you’d been meaning to go to since it had opened a couple months back.

It’s a surprise to meet his eyes across the room as you’re waiting on your second drink, but it shouldn’t be. In your many encounters, casual and otherwise, you’d caught glimpses of his southern charm slipping through.

This was exactly the type of place you could picture Jake Seresin being in.

He’s chewing on a toothpick and nodding to the men around him to assure them he was still listening to whatever they were saying.

You drape an arm over the back of your stool and lean into it, solidifying your gaze on him. He quirks an eyebrow at you, and you smile, nodding him over. You watch him excuse himself, and once you’re sure he’s heading over to you, you turn your back to him and face the bar.

He takes the stool next to you, and you can feel his eyes on you. “Howdy, Lieutenant.” You almost add a ‘fancy seeing you here’ to the greeting, but decide that’d be a little too on the nose for the themed bar you were sitting in.

“Been a while, m’dear. How’ve you been?” It’s a playful question, laced with a suggestive undertone referencing your last encounter of a game of darts.

“Oh, you know…” You sigh contently, finally turning to look at him. “Never better.” Except wholly better now that you’ve run into him.

He grins. “Good to hear.”

He turns away from you to order himself a drink, and though it only takes a minute or two, it’s plenty enough for your eyes to fully rake over him. Something was different about him, something that was driving you up the wall, but you weren’t sure what.

You tilt your head slightly as you survey him. It couldn’t possibly be the small addition of a toothpick in between his teeth, could it?

You aren’t sure, but as far as you can tell, that’s the only change in his physical appearance from the last time you’d seen him. Maybe distance had made your heart grow fonder, or in this case, your libido. You take a deep breath to interrupt your own thoughts.

“What’ve you been up to?” You hope it comes out casually, like you’re just returning the gesture he’d started by asking how you were. You’re also curious why you hadn’t seen him around, the bar felt quieter without him and his buddies crowding around the pool table or the dart board.

He gives you a sweet smile, seemingly knowing exactly what you meant, “Work, mostly. I’ve been around.” He chuckles, “Just haven’t had much time for drinking.” He winks. “You been missin’ me?”

You don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’d read you like a book, so you just smile and change the subject.

“We should take advantage of this run in, right?”

He laughs, pulling the toothpick from his lips to take a sip of the drink that was now placed in front of him. “Straight to the point! That’s not like you.” He teases.

“You did technically promise me another game.” You smile sweetly, looking up at him. “And I haven’t stopped thinking about you-“ your eyes drop to his lips and that damn toothpick, and in a surge of confidence you add, “or your mouth.” It’s a bold statement, and that isn’t lost on him as he shifts closer to the edge of his stool. “Oh yeah?”

You nod, pausing briefly. “You’re from Texas aren’t ya?”

“Yes ma’am.” He leans into his accent, drawing out the word with a teasing grin. He flips the toothpick over with his tongue, and you’re positive it’s because he can see you watching it.

“Then you must know the saying… what is it again?” You lean forward, steadying yourself with one hand placed precariously onto his thigh, and pluck the toothpick from his teeth. You keep your gaze locked on his as you roll the toothpick between your fingers. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy?” You say it as softly as you can for him to still hear it in the loud atmosphere surrounding you, and by the look on his face, you know he does. You smile, settling the toothpick between your own lips.

He clears his throat so slightly you’d miss it if you were any further from him. “Somethin’ like that, yeah.”

He’s flustered.

You don’t know him well enough yet to notice, his own mother probably wouldn’t. It isn’t something that happens to Jake Seresin often, but it’s no surprise to him that you’re the cause.

You figure you have the upper hand though because it takes him two full beats to come up with his next move. “You lookin’ for one, sweetheart?”

As smooth as ever.

“Maybe.” You look over his shoulder and press your tongue to the back of your teeth. “You think I’ll have any luck with that group?” You nod at a table full of guys behind him, but he makes no move to acknowledge them.

Instead, he slides his arm across the bar so his hand is almost touching yours and leans in so close that you think he might kiss you. You forget for a moment that his toothpick is still between your lips until he’s taking it back and standing up.

“Is that how you wanna play it?” He focuses on a piece of hair in your face, brushing it to the side as he says it, and, regrettably, you lose your upper hand. Who could blame you? He was practically looming over you as you stayed seated, and it was doing wonders for those dirty thoughts you’d been having.

But he didn’t need to know that.

You narrow your eyes slightly and stand up, pressing ever closer to him, partly because you’d craved the contact of his body against yours since the last time you’d been with him, but also in an attempt to rile him up like he’d done to you.

“What are tonight’s rules?”

There’s a glint in his eyes as he takes a step back, and you have to keep yourself from pathetically whining at the loss of him. “The rules of this game are simple. First one to cave loses.”

“That’s it? Seems pretty vague.” He picks up his drink and moves to walk past you, pausing to lean into your ear, “I have a feeling you’ll catch on quick, sweetheart.” He presses a soft kiss to the side of your head, and then he’s continuing past you.

You hear his voice behind you. “Can I buy you ladies a drink?”

Oh. Suddenly you know exactly what his rule means. “Alright. Let the games begin.” You mutter to yourself, grabbing your drink and heading back to your friends.

“Jake’s here.” You tell your friends melodically when you reach your table. Eleanor gasps, Mack asks “Sexy pilot Jake?”, and Margot is immediately trying to spot him, despite not knowing what he looked like beyond your basic description.

You sit down in the corner of the booth, giving you a perfect view of the bar, and the aviator still sitting at it. “Yes, that Jake.”

“Well share with the group! Where is he?” Margot presses you, scooting closer to your side. Mack and Eleanor do the same, searching in the general direction of your gaze. You smirk and point at him. “Right…there.”

“The guy very obviously flirting with the bachelorette squad over there?” Eleanor asks.

“Yep.” You pop the ‘p’. “Does he not know you’re here?”

“He does.” You smile at them. “I’m lost.” Mack deadpans. Jake chooses that moment to glance over at you, and once he sees your eyes are already on him, he touches her arm. Your friend’s watch the entire interaction with wide eyes until it starts to click for each of them. “This is all part of the game.”

A chorus of reactions comes from your friends. “You kinky fucks!” “Jesus Christ…” “He is sexy.”

You laugh at them, “Okay, okay! Enough about the pilot… I feel like dancing! Let’s dance! We should dance.” You pull them up with each reiteration of the sentence, though it doesn’t take any convincing to get them up.

You hold Mack’s arm over your shoulder and lead him and the girls over to the dance floor, cheering at the next song that comes on. You all fumble your way through a line dance or two, giggling and twirling each other around the floor. You’re having so much fun with them that you almost don’t notice Jake leading one of the women onto the dance floor.

It almost spurs more excitement in you, in some backwards way. Maybe it’s because you know that she’s no threat to you. You would end up together at the end of the night either way, this was just a fun detour.

You share a look with him over the woman’s shoulder and give him a two finger salute, then turn to find someone to dance with. Your eyes lock with a familiar face, and you can’t help but grin at how perfect his timing was.

“Javy!” You make a big show of greeting him, throwing your arms around him as soon as you’re close enough. “I haven’t seen you in so long!” He returns the hug, laughing at your excitement. You were familiar with most of Jake’s squad, and Javy was usually with him when he came in, so it was good to see him again. You catch up for a few minutes before asking him to dance.

He seems to know something you don’t, but he still agrees, putting one hand on your waist and pulling you into a lively swing. The poor woman with Jake probably thought she had a chance, but you were actual friends with Javy, so you weren’t leading anyone on. Also, you’d missed seeing him around too, so it was a win-win from your perspective.

“Somethin’ going on between you and Jake?” He glances behind you. “He was talking about you like two days ago, and it seemed like you two were on very good terms.” He teases, and you blush at the thought of Jake talking about you so recently. “We’re good.”

“Alright. Keep your secrets.” He smirks to himself, looking over your shoulder. You dance for a few more minutes before you’re interrupted by the man of the hour. “Yo, Coyote! I want to introduce you to someone.” The two of you turn toward Jake and his date, and you smile. “Hey Hangman.” You greet. “Hey.”

He looks at Coyote. “This is Miranda. I was just telling her about how well I think you’d get along. Why don’t you buy her a drink?”

You suck in a breath, feigning disappointment. “Oooohh. Actually, Coyote and I were just about to go ride the mechanical bulls. Right?” You look at him expectantly and he picks up on the hint, smiling to you and then looking back to the pair. “Hell yeah we were. Sorry man, maybe you can get her something and then meet us over there?” He flashes a grin to Miranda, winking at her, and then he grabs your hand and leads you over to the bulls before waiting for his response. You gesture over the music to your friends in the direction of the bulls, and they nod, following the two of you through the crowd.

Well played Coyote. You’d remember to thank him later.

In another perfectly timed event, Jake and Miranda rejoin Javy and your friends right as you’re, for lack of a better word, mounting the mechanical bull. You don’t notice right away, which is probably for the best, because the alcohol is wearing off and you’ve never ridden a bull before.

But you’re a natural.

You get your hips into a rhythm, grinding as smoothly as you can with the jerky mechanical movements. You get comfortable enough to put one arm up in the air, and when you do you hear your friends scream, prompting a wider audience reaction.

You see Jake standing with his arms crossed, shaking his head with what you assume is a chuckle.

You end up staying on longer than anyone else that night.

The next time you look for Jake, you can’t find him. You get off the bull to cheering and whooping from everyone in the vicinity, but especially your friends. Margot puts her arms around you, “Lover boy’s over by the bar, he seems-“ She waves her arm vaguely. “-frustrated? Wound up? Distracted?” Javy offers. She smirks, “Any of the above. Go get him. We’ll catch up tomorrow.” Eleanor winks, and they push you in Jake’s direction.

You saddle up to the side of the bar and put your elbow on the tabletop. Resting your chin in your hand, you give him a pouty smile. “Who’s winnin’ baby, you or me?”

He doesn’t say anything, throwing the rest of his drink back. He motions to the bartender to close out his tab, and then he’s turning back to you with a contemplative smile on his face. “You gonna let me take you home?”

You almost scoff, he’s clever, you’ll give him that, but you weren’t going to lost that easily. “Bar not good enough for you this time?”

The look he gives you is so intense it almost unnerves you. “No more fucking games, sweetheart. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Then lead the way, cowboy.”

The drive to his apartment is sobering to say the least. There’s a dull buzz in the back of your mind leftover from the pounding music that had been playing in your ears all night. His hand resting on your thigh while the other controls the wheel is just enough to keep the foreplay from the bar at the front of your mind.

You feel antsy sitting in his passenger seat. The last time you’d played a game like this the gratification had been instant. This time, you had to sit through an entire ride, and it definitely wasn’t the ride your body was craving.

“How much farther? I mean, do you live close?”

He chuckles, glancing over at you with a smile as he starts to trace circles onto your skin. “Someone’s eager.”

You clench around nothing, and silently curse him.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll take good care of you tonight.” You inhale at the insinuation, resorting to crossing your legs for some relief. He notices, that’s evident by the smirk, but he doesn’t say anything else until you’re pulling up to his building. “Stay right there.”

And then he’s jumping out to get your door. You giggle when he opens it and offers you his hand, despite the curb being barely a step down from his car. “There’s those southern manners I’ve heard so much about.”

“Don’t make me regret pulling them out.” He shuts the door behind you and takes your hand, leading you to his front door. He fingers the key out from the rest of the cluster on his keychain with one hand- a completely ordinary task, but impressively hot in this moment, and pushes the door open, tossing the keys to the nearby table.

“This is me.” He says it lightheartedly, flipping the switch of a lamp. The whole thing is surprisingly intimate, being in his personal space after only ever existing in bars with one another. It’s tidy, comfortable, and you’re not sure if you’ve ever tried to picture his living situation before this.

His voice breaks your train of thought. “Do you need anything? Water or something?”

You stare at him. “Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“Just kiss me.”

Those words are enough to send him back into the mood from the bar, sobering car ride be damned. He crosses the room in two strides gripping your face and crashing his lips against yours. You grip his forearms as your lips move with his. You break apart breathless, staring at each other as your chests heave.

He searches your eyes, still holding your face in both of his hands. “Come on.” He breathes out, dropping his hands from your cheeks and taking your hand in his for the second time that night.

As soon as you’re through his bedroom door, he’s pushing it closed with a hand above your head, trapping your body against it as his other hand moves to the side of your neck, his lips back on yours. “You don’t know what you do to me.” He mutters against your lips.

You open your mouth and let out a breathy moan. He kisses across your cheek and down your neck, and you move a hand to palm him through his pants. He groans and intertwines the hand that isn’t still pressed above you through your hair, moving back to your lips.

You slide the back of your hand up the door until you hit his, pushing your fingers under his palm. He reacts immediately, linking your fingers together, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

After a few more moments, he pulls away, just enough to press his forehead to yours and look at you again. “My gorgeous girl.” His hand trails down your body, and you suck in a breath when the button on your pants pops open.

He unzips them slowly, pulling his head back fully but keeping his eyes locked on yours. Your heart picks up it’s pace as his fingers ghost over your clit, the fabric of your underwear becoming increasingly frustrating to you.

When he dips his hand into your panties, you have to steady yourself, gripping his shoulder and resting your head back against the door. You moan as he rocks his hand, switching between kneading your clit with his thumb and pushing two fingers into you. “Oh fuck!”

“I’m gonna be getting noise complaints tonight, aren’t I?” He chuckles, but the continuing pressure building in your body prevents you from uttering a coherent reply. “Already a mess and I’ve barely touched you.”

“Please Jake.” You whimper. “I need more.” He gently kisses the top of your lips.

“I did tell you I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” You nod, desperately pulling his hips closer to your own. He removes his hand from your pants and puts his hands on your shoulders, guiding you over to his bed.

When the back of your knees hit the edge, he pushes you down. You giggle as he leans over you, connecting your lips again with a smile. You lift your ass when you feel his hands reaching to pull your jeans down, making it easier for him to pull them off.

You put a hand on his chest and pushed him up, sitting up with him. You remove your shirt, and he follows your lead. You smile at each other as you undress fully, laying back onto the bed with his lips on yours again the second you’re both naked.

“Jake?” You say between kisses. He hums. “Please fuck me.”

He laughs, “I got you, sweetheart.” You yelp as he pulls you to the edge of the bed.

He keeps his eyes on yours as he pushes himself in, and you gasp at the stretch. His hands find yours, and then they’re above your head again as he slowly and deeply thrusts in and out of you.

You breathe in and out, in and out. This was becoming far more intimate than either of you were expecting, but you can’t take your eyes off him as he fucks you.

“I missed you.” He admits. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you since the bar.” You nod, eyes fluttering. “I missed… ah- I missed you too.”

You lose yourself in the moment, until your eyes widen as you remember what you’d said earlier that night. “Can I ride you?”

His hips stutter. “Fuck. Yeah, you can ride me. Jesus christ.” You smirk at your turn for control, standing up and holding your hand out to him.

Your legs are a little wobbly, but you’re determined.

He takes your hand and follows you around the bed, and then you’re pushing on his chest until he’s sitting. “Against the headboard, cowboy.”

He looks up at you, “Yes ma’am.” And moves backwards until his back hits the wood frame. You swing a leg over his lap, hovering on your knees over him. You press a soft kiss to his cheeks, and then put both hands on his shoulders.

You both moan as you sink down fully onto his cock, sitting completely on his lap. The angle this position provides has you throwing your head back before you’ve even started moving.

Your hips move similarly to how they moved on the bull, grinding down in a steady rhythm. “Shit Jake. You feel so good.” You whine, picking up your pace.

“Look at you. Fuck. Look at your tits.” He grunts, kneading one of them with his palm, and then moving both hands to grip your hips. You can feel him thrust in time with your bouncing, and your breathing picks up pace as you start to feel yourself come undone.

“I’m close.” You mutter, closing your eyes and throwing your head back again. He takes one hand off your hips and brushes your hair messily out of your face. “Come for me, baby. I want to watch you.”

You look back down at him, “Oh my god.” You run a hand through the side of his hair, then lean down to kiss him. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close to his chest as he continues to thrust. “Come on, darlin’.”

His words are enough to push you over the edge, and you moan loudly into his mouth as you come. His hips stutter seconds after you.

You lay breathless on top of him, arms wrapped around his neck as your chests heave together. “Holy shit.” You say finally, leaning back to look at him. His expression mirrors your own. “Holy shit.” He agrees. You let out a breathy laugh, attempting to sit up on your knees and get off of him.

You can immediately tell that it’s not going to happen. “I think I’m gonna need some help.” He laughs, and presses a kiss to your shoulder, then he flips you onto your back.

The loss of him makes you pout slightly. “I’ll be right back.”

He walks across the room and opens another door in the room to what had to be the bathroom, and you can hear the faucet turn on. He comes back a few moments later with a warm cloth.

You lay limp as he cleans you up. “Well you’re just useless aren’t you?” He teases. You shrug from where you were still laying on his bed. “I can’t help it. The ride was too good.”

He laughs, “All fucked out, huh?” You wink, “For now.”

You hold your arms out to him and he gets back into bed with you, pulling the blankets out from under you and then over your bodies, and then wrapping his arms safely around you.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you…” He turns his head to kiss you. “-for your number.” You can’t help the laugh that comes out of your throat, and you all but slap your hand over your mouth. “Sorry.”

He grins, nuzzling his head into your neck. “Yes. I’ll give you my number before I leave.” His arms tighten around you, and you rest your cheek on his head. “Tomorrow morning, right?”

You smile to yourself, “Right.” You confirm. “I have a question for you too.”

“Hit me.” He sits up, leaning against his bedframe and putting an arm behind his head while keep the other loosely around your shoulders. You readjust, laying on his chest.

“What pushed you over the edge?” He stays silent. You grin. “It was the bull riding, wasn’t it?

“Yeah.” He sighs. “It was the bull riding.”

Taglist: @classygirlything21 @choochoo284 @hopefulinlove @phoenix1389 @littlebadariell @jakexfmc @seasidh @nonsensical-nonce @dracosluvbot @army24--7 @unordinare @xoxabs88xox @alana4610 @dempy @romanoff13 @madmax2191 @lucianaasf @oliviah-25 @littlebadariell @rosie-posie08 @shadeds-library @icemansgirl1999 @rach7318 @call-sign-hurricane @anya7802 @lelapine @atarmychick007 @poppet05 @fanboyluvr @maellem @blahblechblah

crossed out means I wasn’t able to tag you- please message me if your username is wrong! (empty blogs can’t be tagged)

#top gun fic #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin smut #hangman smut #top gun maverick fic #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick smut #top gun smut #hangman top gun #jake seresin angst #jake seresin fic

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drizzileiscool · 8 months

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new pinned new pinned new pinned

yo!! welcome to my blog!!

I'm just a regular drizzile. nothing out of the ordinary. no eebydeeby stuff going on here I was never a human to begin with (although it is weird that I never remember being a sobble)

My name is Azure, btw! a human who I'm friends with gave me this strange rock thing called azurite and decided to name me after it since I didn't already have a name before meeting her

also the pokedex is a liar I am not smart at all lol

Anyways this is also a drizzile propaganda blog because for some reason people don't like my species. why is that. what is wrong with you humans

but that's not all! this is also an ask blog now (as of october 26th 2023)!!! because I really want to talk to people but find it really hard to start a conversation

Feel free to send an ask about Literally Whatever! as long as it's not nsfw I will answer your ask!!

I'm hoping that this blog will make people realize that us drizziles are indeed cool

ooc/tags/more info under the cut

OOC

hello again thanks for clicking the read more thing

I am the owner of this blog, I go by either drizzile or sig (drizzile is preferred if we aren't twitter mutuals)

fyi, for any irl friends that manage to find this blog, please do not use my real name on here! just call me drizzile or sig instead! I don't like having irl information about me online

I'm bad at talking to other people sorry!! if you want to talk to me then you're either gonna have to @ me or respond to one of my posts

info about Azure:

Azure is a drizzile. I don't think they're good at being a drizzile though /j but they sure as hell are one!

they're basically just me if I were a drizzile. that also applies to the things like gender and pronouns. so both me and Azure are non binary and use any pronouns

the world that Azure lives in is also basically just the real world. only instead of the different continents it's the actual pokemon regions. also yes tpc exists in their universe and so do the pokemon games and anime and other pokemon related media

Azure lives in galar! specifically galar mine 2 (though they occasionally make visits to hulbury, spikemuth, and ballonlea. what are they doing there? I have no idea. they just like the Vibes™ I guess)

Azure has not been outside of galar

And y'know how I mentioned that they don't remember being a sobble? that's because they were born as a drizzile! they haven't actually experienced being a sobble. also they can't evolve for some reason but they don't mind since they don't really want to

They're also a shiny drizzile! But they like to keep that a secret since they think humans will try to catch them if they find out. Feel free to ask about that as well. Make them suffer /j

anyways

TAGS!

these were all created before I gave azure a name and it was still Drizzile and im too lazy to change these to say azure instead of drizzile

not drizzile - things that are ooc (as well as things that aren't drizziles)

probably drizzile but not at the same time - posts that are both in character and ooc because this happens alot for some reason. feel free to interact as either in character or ooc, either is fine

ideas of drizzile - some ideas I have that I think could be really cool

drizzile tagging tag - the tag I use when I create a new tag. ironically this tag wasn't created by me lol. created by thatoneguy031 (sorry I'm too shy to actually tag you lol)

drizzile is liveblogging - liveblogging random stuff, such as games and anime. will probably clog up your dash

azure lore - random lore/facts about azure

hey future drizzile you should draw this - things I want to draw but currently can't due to my drawing abilities and time

tw suggestive - suggestive or slightly nsfw posts. feel free to blacklist this tag if you don't like seeing that kind of stuff

important - things that are important to this account, like announcements

vent - self explanatory I think. all vents are ooc if I ever forget to tag one as ooc or just don't feel like tagging it btw

LINKS

carrd (has more info about me)

twitter (currently private but will gladly accept follow requests)

this is the end of the pinned post

if anyone wants to talk to me, feel free to add me on discord @ sigpuyopuyo

#//i suck at social interaction sorry if it takes forever to ask/reply to something #pin #pinned post #pokemon #drizzile #pkmn irl #ask blog

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faggotry-enjoyer · 11 months

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if you're here because i added an image description or plaintext to your post, please edit it into the original with or without credit and feel free to modify as needed.

everyone else: hi welcome i'm some guy, he/it. over 18 for those who need to know. no DNI but i do block liberally. this is a strictly inclusionist space.

i want my blog to be accessible and welcome suggestions or feedback on how to do so

i'm currently reworking some tags so these might not be 100%, but should be pretty close

subject/trigger tagging:

i have some running tags but they're fairly inconsistent and mostly vibes-based. i don't normally trigger tag with 'tw' or 'cw' in the tag itself, but common triggers are likely (though not guaranteed) to be tagged as just the thing. if you need something tagged, send me an ask and i'll either tag it or tell you that i won't. i try to tag unreality but much more often tag 'unreality maybe' for when i'm not quite sure.

my tags:

# faggotry enjoyer original : for my posts

# faggotry enjoyer asks : for asks

# faggotry enjoyer additions : for when i use the body of a reblog rather than just the tags, excluding image descriptions/plaintext

accessibility tags - images and GIFs:

# undescribed : for undescribed images/GIFs

# described : (inconsistent) for described images/GIFs

# id in alt : when an image/GIF is described in the alt text

# description implied : image/GIF is not explicitly described, but can be inferred from the rest of the post

# image incidental or irrelevant : by my judgement, post can be understood without undescribed images or GIFs

accessibility tags - video:

# captioned : for when the captions are accurate and video can be understood without audio. i may note small discrepancies in the tags along with this

# minimal audio : video is not captioned but can be understood without audio

# minimal visual : (new tag, inconsistent) video is not described but can be understood by audio only

# undescribed and # described : same as for images/GIFs

accessibility tags - text:

# all caps : for posts containing significant amounts (more than a word or two) of all-caps text. still deciding whether i'll tag this when there's a plaintext included

# screen reader unsafe : contains text likely to crash screen readers, such as a long string of emoji, zalgo, or unicode characters that look like text but aren't. excludes all caps, tagged regardless of whether there's plaintext included

# no plaintext : for posts with any of the above, text that is likely to be annoying but not crash screen readers (e.g. leetspeak, heavy typing quirks), or heavily formatted or coloured text, and does not include a plaintext version

# plaintext : for posts with any of the above that include a plaintext version

#redoing my pinned #it feels really long but there's just a lot of tags to put there #tried to make the rest more concise #faggotry enjoyer original

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lassyndra · 2 years

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Books Reviews

As my dear friend @gus-dix suggested, I'll post book reviews on here. There will be two types for now :

Shorts : consisting in a short summaries, my impressions upon finishing the books and no spoilers. They will either be in french or english, depending on which language the book is. It is possible that I read the book twice, once in each language. If this happens you'll have two reviews, but they may defer, depending on the (perceived) quality of the translation.

Books Reviews Detailed: these will surely contain spoilers but will be marked as such. They'll mainly be the longer version of the shorts. I may discuss some specific scenes or characters, the way they are written and how I feel about them.

In both you'll always find : - mentions of TW (don't hesitate to contact me if you have any suggest) - tags regarding the subjects (same as before, suggestions are appreciated) - no score or anything of this kind, i'm too bad with numbers - more often than not, rants cause i looooove ranting

In any case, you're always welcome to interact and give your opinion as long as you stay respectful. I may hate a book you loved but it's not a reason to start cussing at each other. Anyway, I'm always up for a good discussion and learning new stuff, so if I make a mistake/don't understand something that seems obvisous to you, go ahead. See you,

Lassy

#books #book reviews #english #french

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miraclecherryblossomsblog · 2 years

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The tittle explains itself, pls read them carefully to avoid any issues.

Go back to guide post to check the others as well.

Ok, nsfw is allowed cuz Ai said fuck u >:( (but pls disscuss this with me first to see what were both comftable)

You have to be over 18 to interact (minors fuck off pls)

Proshippers aren't welcome either

Pls don't feel pressured to answer, were here to have fun so pls don't feel forced to answer if you can't/ or don't feel like it

To avoid any misunderstanding I would prefer if you used these at the end of the ask:

Be respectful and careful in what you may say. I will not tolerate any kind of disrespectful interaction, any hate or offense will be imediately erased.

Pls tw your ask (ex. Tw;: blood, knifes, etc) before sending. Its just that is easier for me to tag for anyone who may get triggered

In case I may not understand something I'll be asking to avoid and misunderstanding or confusion (this goes vice versa too)

Do's:

Au disscussion: if you feel like rp into a certain au feel free to share! I'll love to share ideas and create our own lil history into those tropes and worlds!

Yandere. However, there will be a limit about how dark this theme goes here, pls make sure you ask me for more detail (will do a post about it if ur interested)

Oc interaction: if you wanna use your own characters to interact with mine, I'll gladly accept them! I love to talk sbout my oc's (even tho i dont post much about them 😅)

Platonic rp is also allowed (as long as the character isn't on the anon list)

Dont's:

Dark themes: anything that's in here such as: rape, incest, suicide, self harm, gore, etc. I know Berserk is a dark genre but it doesn't mean I'm comftable rp with it. I can tolerate blood or injuries but nothing too crazy pls.

Don't be mean to "stay in character" said before, anything disrespecful will be erased.

Anything too angsty.

Note: additions will be added as time goes (either by suggestion or forgetfulness)

#cherry rp #cherry roleplay #roleplay info #rp infor #rp #do's and don'ts #rule rp #roleplay rules #cherry rule rp

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the-kr8tor · 2 months

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Between the Devil...

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 8.7k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, No specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW suggestive, TW blood, CW panic attack, TW death, CW violence.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

Navigation

CHAPTER 14 >>> CHAPTER 15

You wake up to home.

Hobie's arm is slung on top of you, hand holding your own even in his sleep. His leg lays over your own protectively like he's shielding you from unforeseen dangers that lurk in the drafty barn. His hot breath fans your nape, lips brushing along the skin like stone skipping on a lake. You sigh, squeezing his hand, head lying comfortably on his other arm.

You're careful when you shift your weight so that his arm won't fall asleep, but judging by the sun's rays entering the small window behind you— you're sure his arm is already numb.

For a split second from waking up, there's a small part of you that thought you'd wake up alone. You're glad that part of you is wrong.

As if his senses are attuned to yours, he wakes up with a sigh before you felt his smile on your nape. His piercing is warm as he leaves featherlight kisses on your skin.

“Good dream?” You say through the fog of affection.

“I didn't dream,” you twist in his arms to look at him. Those grey eyes you love do much are properly rested, pupils blown out, content and peaceful. “Don't worry, that's a good thing. I haven't slept this well since— a long time. The closest I got was on our island.” He smiles, hand cradling the side of your head, thumb nonchalantly placed on your bottom lashes, careful not to accidentally poke you. You trust him not to.

“You're welcome by the way.” You joke, resisting the urge to kiss the goofy smile on his lips.

“Yes, thank you for eating my face off last night.”

“Please, you loved it. And it's not like you went hungry last night either.” Your skin is still warm from where he touched you. Your lips still remember how he tasted and how he moved with you in tandem.

Humming, he pecks your forehead. “I think I'm gettin' hungry again.” With a laugh, he rubs your bare legs with his frozen foot.

“Your feet are cold.” Instead of moving away, you scoot closer, which was already impossible since you're already laying next to him chest to chest. You can feel his chest rise and fall against the thin cloth of your slip. Nosing his neck, he fixes your fallen collar to hide your shoulder away from the cold. “Hmm, your hands are warm though.” You coo, fingers subtly inside his shirt, fingertips dancing around his hip.

“Can't say the same thing for your hands.”

“You have cold feet but warm hands and I have cold hands but warm feet. We're perfect for eachother.”

Hobie chuckles, you can feel the deep rumble in his chest. “Put ‘em all together and we'd both have normal temperatures.”

Giggling, he buries his nose atop your head, letting himself drown in you. With the comfortable silence, the various animals below the hayloft huff and chew, the hay under your bodies are scratchy and pointy so Hobie lifts you up slightly so he takes the brunt of the pointed hay, so you don't get itchy from the dry material. Your chin rests just below his clavicle, hands caged around his head, lips curled into a smile.

His heart almost stops when the golden rays kisses your face, the light from the window hits your form perfectly, blanketing you in its glow. Eyes shining, linen slip leaving almost nothing to the imagination, dust flying around you like fireflies— he thinks he has died in his sleep and is now in front of heaven's gates. Standing and gawking at the marvelous sight.

“You alright?” You ask like you didn't take his breath away.

“Are you real?”

You snort, “of course I am.”

“Then I'm alright.” Hobie's knuckles knead at your lower back, warming you from the cold. Hand gripping your waist, you feel right at home.

Heart fluttering in your chest, you and Hobie take a minute to bask in the silence and the slowness of the morning; just like on your little island where you learned to appreciate and truly know each other, you both just lay there and stare tenderly like the other would disappear from view.

“I've been meaning to—” You both say at the same time.

Chortling, you gesture for him to go first, “Captain first.”

“Ladies first.” He smirks, patting your back.

“You and I both know I'm not a lady, you're not much of a gentleman either.”

“I know, a lady doesn't snog like that.”

“Fine, I won't kiss you like that anymore.” You joke, acting like you're about to sit up, he brings you back down tutting with a knowing smile. Your cheeks hurt from all the smiling but he quickly remedies that by stealing a kiss right under your nose.

Giggling, nose bumping, you tilt your head to deepen the kiss. Giving him what he needed, Hobie grips your waist tighter as if someone would rip you away from him. With a deep groan, he lifts your face up to breathe. He finds that he loses his breath frequently when you're near him.

Staring at your kiss bitten lips, he flips you back to the makeshift bed, leg hooked around yours. You let out a surprised sound from the back of your throat to which he silences with a peck. Fingers twirling at the little baby hairs on his nape, he unwillingly lets out a laugh against your lips.

Breaking the kiss, you look at him playfully and he knows exactly what you're about to say.

“You're ticklish!” You exclaim, eyes flicking down to the swinging pearl necklace, it hangs above you and you resist the urge to pull it down so you could kiss him again.

“Just on my neck—” you're already wiggling your fingers, “—dont.” He warns you with a stern glare, but it doesn't last as he hides his face on the crook of your neck. Surrendering, melting into.

“Alright, I won't exploit that knowledge. For now at least.” Hugging him, it's your turn to massage his back. His dress shirt is wrinkled under your touch, you guess the random lord from last night had a very rude awakening when he woke up in his knickers.

“You really do love me.” Hobie mumbles into your skin with wonderment. He doesn't recognize your scent with all the perfumes they doused you in, but it's there, it's faint, yet it's still you underneath it all. Still the scuttlebutt he fished out of the sea.

“I think I proved that last night. Do you want me to say it again?” You're prepared to say it a hundred times a day for him, knowing that those three words won't lose any meaning; and with every utterance of it would set it in stone and in his heart.

He hums, content, the rumble echoing throughout your body.

“I love you.” You embrace his head and in turn, he buries his face into the crook of your arm. “Love you,” peppering the side of his face with warm kisses, you smile through it all. “Satisfied, cap’n?”

“Very.” He sniffs, trying to hide his lopsided smile and stuttered breathing. “What was it you were about to ask?” With a sigh, he lets off of you, now laying side by side, hip to hip. He slithers his arm under you to hold you against his chest while his other hand plays with your intertwined fingers. “Were you about to ask why I attacked Miguel first? I figured your injury made you forget.”

“No,” you stare at your dancing hands in the sunlight. He can feel your new calluses that match his own. “I don't wonder about that anymore.”

“You don't want to know about it?” Hobie cranes his neck to look at your content face. “You, who wants to know about everything?”

“It doesn't matter anymore, it got us here, right?” He nods, the creases in between his eyebrows flattens, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Does it put us in danger?” He shakes his head. “Will it hurt me?” Shaking his head again, you continue. “Then it doesn't matter. I just know that the tension got you both riled up, and it was enough for you two to lunge at each other.”

“It was pride, love.” Hobie swallows thickly. “But you're right if you don't want to know then I won't tell you.”

“Thank you,” You squeeze his hand, fingers slotting perfectly on his own. “I was about to ask how you are. How are you faring in all of this? Everyone keeps asking how I am but no one has asked how you are. You keep dodging it every time I ask. ”

“Does it matter?”

“It does,” you say breathlessly with a sigh. “How are you? Truly?”

“Tired, I think I just want to stay here with you in this musty barn.” You blink, waiting for the rest. “But I'm alright, keep holding on to me like this and I'll be better.”

You smile, sitting up by your elbow to look down at him, to see him fully. “It'll be over soon,” hand on his chest, you feel his heartbeat. “I promise, then we can do whatever we want. Go wherever we want.”

“Do whatever we want?” He teases with a playful smile.

“Yes,” you lean down to rub your nose against his own. It makes him shiver, hands holding you tight on your waist. “I kind of want to stay at a lighthouse for a bit after we figure it out.”

“A lighthouse?”

“Mm-hmm, easier to defend while we plan out things. Plus,” you brush your lips over his own teasingly. “It can only house two people.”

Hobie's breath hitches in his throat. “What are we waitin’ for then? Let's go find the wanker and stay at our tower.”

You giggle whilst he kicks the thick blanket off you. “Or maybe a new ship.” He pauses, neck slowly moving to look at you with a face that says ‘go on.’ “With better defenses, a hundred cannons and a huge fucking sail that can take us anywhere.”

“You gonna build us a boat then? Made out of bricks and steel like your lighthouse?”

You scoff, “that'll be the day. My uncle has a ship docked in the capital, if something happens—”

“Nothin', nothin' will happen.” He pulls you in closer, heartbeats synching, fingers digging in your arm. Yet, he's careful to not leave a mark or make you feel the dull press.

“If, if something does happen, we'll meet there. She's called ‘The Osprey.’ You have my permission to take it, captain.”

“Why are you talkin’ like this?” Concern wracks his body. “Do you know somethin’ I don't?”

“No, it's just that…it's been too good, too plain sailing—” you've been too happy recently. “That I think something will happen, something that would make our plan fail.”

“What do you mean? You got hurt, that's not good, love.”

“I'll live. I meant that you and the crew got out without a hitch. You found me without getting caught and no one has even tried to actively kill me. And Miguel...he told me it might be the king who did all of it. Who commanded Mathias to do it because he wanted to marry my mother. That's what I'm worried about.”

“Do you trust his word?”

“I just think there's something else he missed. That he might be wrong.”

“Do you trust Miguel?”

“A part of me does, I don't know.”

“Who do you think it was then?”

You exhale sharply. “I think there's another cog we don't know about. Miguel told me the king is a buffoon, an idiot. And from what I've seen— do you think an idiot is capable of orchestrating it?”

“Idiocracy could be dangerous too. I'll dig around the estate.” Before you could protest, he gazes tenderly at your nervous eyes. “I'll be careful, I'll dress like the staff, if I get noticed they won't talk.”

You nod, trusting him.

Sitting up to cradle your head in his calloused hands, he smiles to reassure you, attuned to your own worry. “That won't happen. If somethin' does happen, I won't let it.”

“You don't know that, Hobie.” Your chest feels heavy, hands suddenly tensing up. “We failed the last time and the time before that. If it happens again— leave me.”

“No, do you think I crossed the bloody sea, rowed a million times to this city and fought with my crew— my family, just to leave you behind?” His voice is determined. “'m not leaving you.” Taking your tensed hand, he places it on his chest, letting his steady heartbeat calm you, even though he's terrified too.

“No more sacrifices.” Hobie breathes out, hands trembling.

A tear escapes your eye. Nodding your head, you compose yourself, sniffing, letting the thumping of his heart wash over you. You're scared, rightfully so, knowing that you might be against the crown itself. A powerful being, whose word is law.

You finally have your reason not to flee and he finally has his reason not to carve like the knife that he is.

And you're both holding it in your hands.

“You're good to me, Hobie Brown. Too good.” With your confession, grey pools whirl into guit, he has something to confess too.

“Your mother's letter,” his words make your heart stutter. “She wrote not to trust anyone. I intended to hold that burden for you but it's not my decision, so please, don't trust anyone, Y/N.”

“I trust you.”

“And I, you. I love you, whatever happens, know that I do.” His grey eyes swirl with anxiety, hands trembling for fear of death. Not for him but for you, the thought of you lying dead in his arms burns him inside out. And he's more than willing to spread the fire, to burn everything around him if it happens. “I promise I won't let it happen.” He whispers, head placed on your chest, praying that if fate cuts your thread, that they'll cut his too. “We'll have our lighthouse and our ship one day. I promise.”

In that rickety barn, you whisper promises of life to each other.

—

Sneaking out was easier when you had the darkness on your side. Now that the sun has risen and the residents of Hazelside now flock the land, you skitter around to get back inside the estate.

With a quick peck on your lips that has your knees weak, (that shouldn't even be called a simple peck) he reluctantly lets you go. It's not like you wanted to leave him either when he looks properly kissed by you. With his dress shirt completely opened, chest exposed to the golden rays. Elbow propped up, he lounges on the hay with a grin, a picture of someone who's absolutely satisfied, who knows why your skin is on fire and why your hands shake as you come down the hayloft’s ladder.

You shake your head, waving the image away from your brain, tucking it under the folds like a secret. You have to focus, hands holding the blanket over your shivering body, (not to mention how exposed you feel in the almost sheer nightgown) you hide behind a tree when a worker passes by.

Then something in you clicks, you technically own the place so why should you be ashamed? Granted, you did slip away in the night to spend it with Hobie, but they don't know that. So why sneak when you can confidently walk back inside like you own the place. You do own it, your family owns it, so you straighten up your back with confidence, blanket draped around you like an expensive cloak, you strut back inside the little crevice you came out of.

There's goosebumps rising on your arms when you feel their eyes on you. They stop from harvesting the trees, gawking at the new (disheveled) barefooted duchess trudging the field. Scratching their heads, they shrug and just like you thought, they let you on your way without a word.

Speed walking back to the old wooden door, you tamp down a laugh from how ridiculous you must've looked like.

As you close the door, darkness greets you once again. And you already miss him.

Following the walls with your touch, you stop when you hear muffled voices from the other path that you didn't take last night. Straining your ears, you hear arguing. With your curiosity, you follow the sound.

The path leads to a deadend. Light filters through on your left, touching the wall— it's rough and wooden on your palm. It's a bookshelf, you surmise. Peeking through the cracks, you see Victoria and Frederick arguing. And his wife seems to be winning.

Your uncle has his head in his hands, sitting down on a plush armchair whilst his wife screams at him with urgent words.

“—word is law!” She yells, voice shaking.

“I know.” Frederick says in a defeated tone. “Fucking fuck!” He stands up abruptly, pacing back and forth. “Did my father tell you about it?”

“Me?” Victoria scoffs, “he's your father! Not mine!”

“How could he—” Frederick sounds like there's cotton in his mouth, sentence in full disbelief. “He was close to them…how could he—fuck! And here I thought— I thought he didn't have anything to do with it. I've always had a feeling but…” he wipes his oily face with his hands roughly. “The three of them, christ, that poor girl.” Your heart plunges in your stomach.

“It's either us or her.” Victoria shakes her husband. “What would happen to our children if we refuse? What of John and Collette?”

“I don't want to—” Frederick stutters when his wife holds his face softly.

“But we have to.” She nods and he follows.

The door to their chambers fly open suddenly, and out comes a smiling John, completely oblivious to what transpired.

“The artist’s here!” He pauses mid step when he sees his parents' faces. “Collette’s on her way to wake her up— are you both alright?”

“We're fine, Jojo.” Frederick pats his son's shoulder, “let's greet him.”

As they leave the room, with the door clicking softly, you feel for your dagger. The familiar shape of it is missing on your thigh, you rush towards your room with a heavy heart. Your weak leg hinders you from running full speed but you persevere before they could get to you first.

Wincing, entering your room through the secret passage, you fling the tapestry away. Collette greets you with a blinding smile and a lilac dress on top of your bed.

“Oh there you are! I see you found the passages. Where'd you go off to?”

“I think I need to go.” You rapidly take your sparse belongings.

“Wait—what?” She takes your hand away from your shoes. “Why? You just got here!” Her face contorts into worry and sadness.

“I—” you heave from the exertion. “I'm sorry, Collette.” She's innocent from all of this, you thought as you grip her hand. You hear numerous footsteps outside the halls. It's too late to run. In a split second, you make a decision. “Can you do me a favour?” She nods tentatively. “Go to Miguel and tell him—” there's knocking on your doors. “Tell him I need him. Tell him my mother needs him.”

Collette shakes her head with confusion, her curls bouncing on her head as she moves. “Your mother?”

“Just tell him that, please? When you can…just please.”

He's your only hope, he has the power to take you away because he promised. Even if you and Hobie fight your way out of Hazelside, it won't be enough. Heart in your stomach, you fear for his life, not your own. You decide to act, to play the part until Collette brings Miguel back. So you play the perfect duchess like they've always wanted. For Hobie.

His words echo in your mind— ‘no more sacrifices’ and you apologize to him silently.

“I'll—” she understands the urgency in your tone and from your worried eyes. “— I'll tell him myself. You can trust me, cousin.”

“Thank you.” You embrace her, with an almost silent whisper, you tell her about him. Another promise broken at your feet. “There's a man staying in the barn, tell him to leave. Please.” She doesn't have enough time to reciprocate the hug as the door creaks open.

“Oh good, you're awake.” You don't miss how her voice wavers, so do her children. There's an army of handmaidens behind her, “we need to get you ready for your portrait.”

—

You sit stiffly on the velvet chair. The plush seat is in deep purple to match the soft lilac of your dress. The gown is tight on your body, bodice covered in gold stars and golden threads. Corset tight like a cage around your ribs. Sleeves fully puffed, ruffles looking like the waves of the salty sea. The skirt engulfs you, heeled shoes uncomfortable on your feet, making your weak leg shake under the mass of your skirt.

It all suffocates you as the artist forbids you to even move a muscle. Jaw clenched tightly, hand almost breaking the stem of the rose that they forced you to hold. The jewelry on your ears and neck is heavy, cold rubies making you shiver. With the finest garment and expensive yet heavy jewelry, you miss the weight of the dagger on your thigh. You couldn't get the chance to hide it under your skirt when all eyes were on you. Numerous handmaidens come and go from your room as their hands frantically get you ready for the portrait.

Just like the uneasiness in you, Collette stands shakily near her brother, eyes never leaving your stiff form, nervous and worried. And just like the dagger, she couldn't escape the dozens of eyes on her, she couldn't find the right time to escape and warn Hobie and Miguel. You trust that she will tell them, you have to.

Your mother's voice whispers in your mind, ‘Don't trust anyone’ you feel like you're drowning again.

You can hear Collette's deep sigh from across the violet room. The scratchy sound of the painter’s brush against the canvas irks you, makes your ears twitch from annoyance.

Your so called aunt and uncle sit on the couch like nothing happened, like they're not planning for your demise. A tower of sweets sits at the table, colourful cookies decorating their plates, fragrant teas in their opulent cups.

“Collette, darling.” Frederick calls, “you should play something on the pianoforte. I bet Sir Remus here would appreciate the soothing sound.”

“I prefer the quiet, Monsieur.” The artist says in a rigid tone. He dips his brush into a dollop of purple paint, smearing it on his pallet. You follow his movements like he's about to pounce at you and stab you with his brush. “If you don't mind— my lady, please refrain from moving.” He stares at you sternly, pointing his long finger at you accusingly.

“I wasn't moving.” You say through gritted teeth. He doesn't reply, returning to his canvas.

“Can I please be excused?” Collette asks timidly. Her tone raises an eyebrow on her brother's face.

“No, you may not.” Victoria scoffs out, you wonder if she knows.

The stem on the rose digs at your palms.

“But—” Collette turns to her father.

“Listen to your mother.” Frederick doesn't even look at her.

“It'll be your turn soon enough, Collette. Learn from your cousin, be patient and it'll all be fruitful.” Your aunt stares at you above her cup.

“What will be fruitful?” You ask, tone commanding, eyes alight.

“The portrait. You already look wonderful from here.” You can feel the lie in her throat.

“Bullshit.” Your voice echoes around the silent room.

Everyone pauses, frozen on the spot, eyes trained to your furious face. The painter scoffs with an amused smile.

“Excuse me?” Victoria clutches her pearls. “We do not use that foul language here, especially in front of a guest.”

“I'm terribly sorry. Please tell me what this portrait is for, aunt.” You fake a smile, clearing your throat.

She subtly shakes her head, offended. “It's simply for…” flicking her eyes towards her husband, he nods his head. You can see the guilt in them. “...your engagement.” Collette gasps whilst James blinks in shock.

The rose in your hand snaps in half.

“What?” You ask, breath stuck in your throat.

With a click of Remus’ fingers, a staff rushes in, exchanging the snapped rose for a new one.

“The Viscount called for you last night. He expressed his love for you with a proposal to which we…gratefully accepted.”

She stomps her pointed heel on your heart with every word.

“Who?” You ask tearfully, and the painter clicks his tongue, commanding you to not move.

“Viscount Eugene Thompson.”

“I just met him!” You scream, hands gripping the sides of your seat. “You have no right!”

“Madame!” Remus yells back. Instructing the staff to sit you back down. With their gloved hands, they grip your shoulder with a remorseful face, forcefully sitting you back down.

The walls of the purple room seem to get smaller.

Collette shakes her head subtly. James sees this and he immediately gets that something has gone wrong and it's not just the surprise engagement. His ocean eyes tell you to ‘play along.’

Exhaling, letting a tear escape, you act like the duchess you were supposed to be like if not for the past.

“You should've asked me, dear aunt, I would've gotten to know him more.”

“That’s what marriage is for, dear niece. You marry and then you know them after. That's how it's supposed to be for us who are highborn.”

“It's for the best.” For the first time your uncle looks up from his drink to gaze at you. His fingers tremble as he talks. “You get to be a viscountess and we get to stay here at Hazelside. No one loses.”

I lose, you furiously thought. You now know why they want to marry you off to a stranger. It's for them to keep their titles and house while you rot in somebody else's. Someone who might treat you less, someone who could hurt you. Someone who isn't Hobie.

With a cruel laugh, you cackle in your seat. “I get it now.” Your uncle's face contorts into shame while your aunt clenches her teacup hard with an angry sneer.

Collette turns away from you, hiding behind her brother. She knows and so does John who stares out the window, but will they still choose to help you? Or will they choose their titles over your freedom?

“You should be grateful.” Victoria says above the sudden silence. “With how…used you are, you're lucky that a viscount even wants you.” She says with a scoff. “If you weren't as used then you could've been married off years ago to a duke, an earl or even the prince himself.”

“...Used?” You ask rhetorically, making her say it again, making her face you fully with her cruel words.

“You've been to a pirate ship, I have no idea what your role was but I do know that it's impossible that you weren't soiled in that ship.”

You are scorched by the sun.

You almost pounced on her but a staff member suddenly appeared next to you. Her eyes are warm, jade eyes telling you to hold fast, hands telling you to stay down. She takes your bleeding palms, the sting you just now noticed from the spiked stem of the rose. Carefully bandaging your hands, she wordlessly nods at you.

Lips slightly parted, you have an urge to ask who she is and why she's helping you calm down. But you don't let yourself falter, taking this stranger's advice. With a nod and a familiar knot on your hands, she walks away from you, head down in respect or because it's what she's used to.

You take matters in your own bleeding hands.

“Why don't I meet him again? The viscount, so I could get to know him before I marry him.” You lie through your teeth. If you can't talk down your own family or get Miguel for help, then you'd take your chances with the viscount. Maybe he'll think twice about the engagement once you tell him you don't want it, or him. “For tea, perhaps?”

Victoria turns to her children who cower under her glare. “John, why don't you take Collette and send a messenger for the viscount? I'm sure he'd appreciate it if the invitation was sent by your hand, the future duke of Hazelside.”

“But—” John starts but Collette stops him by grabbing his arm.

“Will do, mother.” As the twins leave, Collette gives you a look, green eyes determined. With a nod, you know she's on your side.

“And Collette, darling, straight to your chambers right after.” As if your aunt knows, she forbades them from going out. With a nod to a broad footman, he follows the twins out of the room.

You indistinctly mouth Miguel's name, hoping Collette gets the message before she disappears from view. You wish that they can at least sneak in a letter to Miguel.

If she can't get to Hobie in time, you'll have to do it yourself. For now, you need Miguel back to Hazelside first and foremost. He might not like Hobie but he seems to care for you and your well being, he'll get you and Hobie out, you just know it. He has the title, the power to help you. And the stature that strikes fear into your aunt and uncle. You just hope that Hobie's in the barn, you'd run to him the moment you get the chance.

With your bandaged hands, you grip the arms of your chair. The velvet is slashed under your nails, fluff spilling out.

Victoria stands up, crossing the threshold towards you. “After your meeting with the viscount, there's no escaping this, no matter how you act. I know you're not one of us but you have to try. Marriage is the best option for the both of us. For the family.” She holds onto the back of your chair as you continue to stare at Remus.

“You’re not my family,” you look up at her with your burning eyes. “Whatever you're planning, you'll regret it soon enough. You have no idea what I'm capable of.”

She exhales through her powdered nose. “Hollow threats, dear niece.”

“It won't be, I promise you that.” You abruptly grab her wrist, nails purposely digging in. “If you're part of the reason why they're dead—” she tries to take her hand back but you're stronger. “I'll bury you under my grandmother's apple trees. Then you'll truly be family.”

Unknowingly, you embrace the same fire he has.

Frederick comes to Victoria's side, quickly making you unhand his wife by roughly unclasping your fingers around her.

Your nails scrape and leave a mark on her soft skin, to which you grin at. She has the look of a woman who's terrified for her life. Her husband shares the same look, but with regret in his eyes.

They leave the room, arms embracing each other, murmuring hurried whispers in their traitorous ears.

“Keep that look.” Remus cuts the thick silence. “I like it better.” He smiles, continuing to paint your likeness.

You wait and bide your time, waiting for your so-called aunt and uncle to fully disappear from the halls outside. You count to thirty.

Five.

You listen for their retreating footfalls.

Twelve.

The sound of the brush against the paper is the only thing that you can hear while you ignore your quickening heartbeat.

Nineteen.

Anger rages in you, Hobie finds something in the duke’s office.

Twenty-five.

You thank the artist for his time, using an excuse of not feeling well. His protests fall on deaf ears as you close the door behind you.

Thirty.

You run to him.

—

You try not to make it obvious as you sprint, only slowing down when someone sees you. After you're away from their view, you continue to run towards the barn like a moth to a flame. The ache in your leg is fiery. A harsh throb in your bones, the pain reverberating through your body.

It makes you wince and groan, slightly limping, you finally make it to your chambers. Quickly throwing off the blasted shoes, you immediately kneel down next to your bed in search of your dagger that you've kept hidden under the mattress.

Feeling the cool steel, you grab it, with no time to lose, you hold it in your hand as you head towards the familiar tapestry. Heart pounding like war drums, blood rushing in your ears, sweat dripping off your brows, you feel the fury in your lungs. It buries inside you, shoveling, tunneling, until it reaches your heart. You fight a sob when your knees almost buckle from under you.

Holding on to the walls, you go further inside the hidden path, in search of his warmth. His name echoes in your head, ‘Hobie, Hobie, Hobie’ it says, and you grip tightly around his name like it's your life line, your guiding light as you finally make it to the rotten wooden door.

The sun hangs low in the sky, the cold grass hitting your bare feet makes you gasp but it's not enough to stop you. It'll take more than that to stop you in your tracks, to stop you from reaching him.

The residents of Hazelside are far and few during this time of day. The ones who are left spare you a curious glance but they let you be whilst you run and run, until you reach him, until you reach your reason to live. You'll run forever if you have to.

Ankles burning, palm throbbing from the steel in your hand, you push the barn door open without a thought.

The smell of manure and hay hits your nose, the familiar scratch of a gun being unholstered rings in your ears.

Your heart finally finds reprieve when you see him bathed in the orange rays. Hobie points his gun away, holsters it once he lays his eyes on you. His pulse quickened further the second he spots the deep worry in your eyes. And how you heave like your lungs are about to give out.

Hobie leaves Bernard‘s side, letting the saddle fall on the horse’s back with a soft thump. Fast strides get himself in front of you at a quick pace. Grasping your face, tear stained cheeks tells him of what he feared, what you feared.

“What happened?”

“T-they're going to marry me off.” You weakly say. Holding his arm, you burst at the seams. The fire in you still burns, but you've had enough of its heat.

Now that you stand in front of him, the firelight in you dims, adrenaline fading, letting you be your true self.

You can't lose him.

“I'm sorry,” your hold on him gets tighter with every plea. You can't say it, say that you've given up even though you were forced to. But to you it's all the same. Failure means death, failure means they've died without justice. But failure also means you get to live, to continue to live with him. You're torn between the family you know and love, and the family you never got the chance to love.

And he understands completely.

You now see the cost of revenge laying at your feet, and it's him— Hobie's head rolling on the floor right next to Gwen's, Miles', Pavitr’s, James' and Yuri's. He has seen the same look in your eyes before in the mirror, the reflection cracked and broken. He can't let it happen to you, won't let the hunger burn you until you can't recognize yourself anymore.

And he can't lose you.

“That's alright,” Hobie embraces you, arms shielding you from everyone. Your face hidden in his leather vest, the familiar material helps ease you from the adrenaline rush. “Let's go then, fuck ‘em.” He says against your head. “Let's get the hell out of here.”

“Thank you,” you look up at him with tearful and restless eyes. “Thank you. Let's go look for the others.”

“I found something, but you're right, we need to go. Let me saddle him then we can—”

The doors burst open with a loud bang. The sheer force unhinges the doors from the frame. The sound scares the animals inside, their terrified cries rising above your own.

Hobie hides you behind him as a dozen or so guards filter through the doorway, their heavy boots thumping louder than the horse’s frantic stomping. They all raise their bayonets at Hobie while he stands with his own gun raised.

The men in uniforms yell at Hobie to let the gun go, to let you go like he's holding you hostage. But it's all muffled noise to you both, everything happens in slow motion. Dust floats in the air like it hangs suspended. You no longer hear the cries of the barn animals as you're more focused on Hobie, and he's focused on your safety.

He's calm amidst the numerous guns aimed at his head. He's in his natural state, but your hand around his arm makes him aware, aware that the bullets would pass through him and into you if they shoot.

For the first time, his hand shakes around his gun.

Outnumbered, he clasps your hand behind him, squeezing once. You already know what he's about to do.

“Hobie, please.” You whisper as you look over his shoulder. “No more sacrifices.”

Your words wake him. The fishbone is stuck in his throat once again. Choking him, strangling him as realization hits him.

It's the end.

“I can't,” you see tears in the corner of his eyes. “I can't let them have you.” There's desperation and grief in his voice. He can't lose you.

“I’m so sorry.” Kissing his clothed shoulder, you whisper a goodbye. “I'm so fucking sorry.” You don't want to lose him, but fate has other plans.

“Unhand her!” Frederick appears like he actually cares for your wellbeing. “Fucking scoundrel! I knew you were up to something, dear niece. Glad I got my footman to follow you. I thought you were just gonna run away on a horse but I did not expect to see the red hydra under my own roof.”

Without a second thought, you stand in front of Hobie. Protecting him with your own body. “Let him go, uncle, and I'll marry Eugene.”

“You know I can't do that.” He points his finger at Hobie. “He has a bounty on his head, you see.” He beckons you over. “Come, Y/N, we're gonna need the money for your upcoming wedding.” When you don't obey, his eyes flashes with remorse that's quickly replaced by the need for survival.

“Let him go!” You scream like a knife twists in your gut. Hobie tries to hide you behind him but you fight him. “Please,” your voice falters with desperation. “Please, uncle. Let him go and I'll marry Eugene, I won't fight it anymore. Just let him go.” You're ashamed, but it's needed for him to live.

“I'm sorry, Y/N, but you don't hold the cards here.” Your heart falls in your stomach, it dissolves in acid. The duke cranes his neck to the officer near him. “Seize them, don't harm a hair on her but take the red hydra to the capital.”

“No!” You try to swipe with your dagger but it's fruitless as the uniformed men yank you away from Hobie. The steel clunks loudly on the ground as Hobie tries to hold onto you, the sleeves of your dress rips away as the men take you away.

His gun falls as one of the taller men punches him in the gut. Hobie spills crimson from his lips but he continues to fight the men. He kicks, scratches and bites. Getting a few hits in, he yells for you, calls your name with desperation.

Almost all of them hold Hobie down, but even with their numbers they still can't keep him still. Using all his strength, he fights back with sheer will alone. His elbow meets a face, nose crunching. His knee smacks someone on the groin, knees buckling. He draws blood with his nails, his mouth snapping at anyone who gets close. Someone made the mistake of getting too close, now the captor's ear is in his bloodied mouth.

Reaching for you as two men try to drag you away, your heels dig in as you try to reach for him too. Fingertips brushing along yours, eyes glued to your terrified face, he decides that his final words to you shouldn't be filled with agony, but with something that should help you survive, something to keep you alive once he can't be your reason anymore.

Because he's a knife born to cut and bleed, not to love. Or to be loved.

“It's not him!” Hobie screams as they continue to drag you away. “It's her! It's—!” A bag is put on his head, shutting him up with the rope tied around his neck. The men laugh menacingly as they cinch the rope tighter.

Hobie tries to resist, clawing at his captors, guttural screams let out from the same lips who called your name softly in his sleep.

“No!” You continue to thrash, nails digging into the arms of your captors. “Hobie!” Your voice cracks as you hear him start to choke.

“Oi!” The duke yells towards the guards. “Bring him to the king first! He needs to stand before him before you bloody execute him! What will he say if you bring the most wanted pirate in the country dead in front of the whole court, hm? You know how much he likes the theater of a trial!”

Air rushes in your lungs as they untie the rope. He coughs, spit darkening the bag. You yell for him again before a bag is placed on your head. Darkness invades your senses, and you're afraid of the unknown, afraid of what they're doing to him as they tow you away on the moist ground. Throat clumping up, hyperventilating, you try to desperately breathe. The guard's hold on you tightens and in turn, your throat tightens, shutting off your air. Heaving, ears ringing, your own breath fans on your face while you hastily try to take breaths in. Black dots dance around your vision until you fall unconscious.

This is the end.

—

You've been staring at the same spot for hours, blank stare, red eyes. Legs tucked, arms enveloping around it, your mind runs like an unhitched horse. Hobie's face is seared into your brain. You can see his wild eyes with every blink of your own. His screams echo in your ears like a death rattle, it might as well be if his fate is to be decided by the crown who hates every fiber of his being.

The soft bed doesn't provide comfort, the blankets don't shield you away from the stern stare of the guards guarding every single opening in your chambers. A behemoth of a man stands in front of the unicorn tapestry, his cutlass on his hip shines in the moonlight as well as your own dagger.

The once comforting eyes of the sea snake around the hilt now mocks you. You did this, you did this. You've killed him, your hubris killed him. You might as well follow him towards the end.

There's no more tears in your eyes left to be shed. Every muscle in your body aches from your wracking sobs. Your nails leave crescent shapes in your palms, tiny dots of crimson drips on the expensive silk bed sheet.

Yet, you want your mother.

The one who truly knows you, the one who saved you all those years ago. There's a part of you that wishes she didn't, that she left you alone in the arms of your doomed birth mother. But there's a bigger part of you who seeks Jessica's comfort. You seek her warmth from her embrace, like you once sought out your family. Family who turned their backs on you, family who locked you in your chambers like a princess in a fairytale. But this isn't a fairytale, it's real, and you can still hear his screams.

You would've given everything to meet your family back then, if only you could warn your younger self to come back to that small cabin in the woods, to beg Jessica to take you back. Even if it means you've never met him, even if it means you'll never feel his touch again as long as he's alive, knowing that he'll survive is enough. You now wonder if you didn't jump on that net that day, would everything still happen? Would Mathias still find the revenge? Would Finn and Ned still be dead if you just ran the other way?

It's too late to come back, it's too late to save them, to save him.

A bird passes by your window, and it's just now you realized it's dawn. The rose-pink sky upsets you further. Your brain concocts an image, an image where everybody lives. Where Finn and Ned drink on the revenge, where the trio plays cards on the rickety table. Where Hobie has his hands around your own as he guides them on the helm.

You haven't moved an inch from the bed, yet you stand in front of the mirror wearing a white dress.

With every pull of the ribbons behind the wedding gown you feel like they're gutting you like a fish ready for supper.

Silver threads weaved around the golden violets on your bust, the fabric is airy yet heavy and suffocating on your form. White gloves decorate your hands to hide the crescent shapes. There're heeled shoes underneath your feet to prevent you from running away, heavy perfume to hide the iron lingering on your skin. Make-up to hide your sorrows, jewelry to get people's attention away from the tears in your eyes. Top it off with a bow on your back and a golden tiara on your head— you're dressed properly for the slaughter.

And Hobie is too. If he had a mirror in the dimly lit prison they threw him in, he'd wonder who's looking back at him. He doesn't look like the captain he was supposed to be, doesn't *feel like the captain he was supposed to be. He's been beaten, his own ichor flowing out of his mouth and open wounds. Body shaking from the cold, he misses your fire.

He's not terrified of the blade that would kiss his neck, he's afraid to leave his family in this world. Afraid to leave you in this world.

He hates the fates for weaving him like this, to let everyone he has ever cared about die or be given a fate worse than death. Why did they shape him to be a knife that kills instead of something better? Something smoother around the edges, something that doesn't let everything he touches die?

Hobie whispers your name in the dark like you would materialize right next to him. The ground is wet under him, iron fills his nose, he wonders how many people lived and died in this cell. He feels the ghost of your touch on his hand, and he cracks at the seams.

Victoria appears next to you like a gust of wind. She fixes your mother's necklace on your neck, hands cold, nervous, terrified.

“You have a guest.” She says lowly, like she's already mourning.

For a moment hope blooms in your chest. Is it him? Did he escape to save you? Is he alive?

But if it was Hobie, Victoria wouldn't announce it. He would come to you like a dream, quick and quiet, touch soft and careful as he takes you away from your hell.

You have no fight left to scream at her, to claw at her painted face. She leaves before you could find the fight in you.

With gloved hands from the handmaidens, they guide you outside. Face blank and limbs limp, you let them.

They halt by twin doors, gold outlining the shape, birds carved on the dark wood. Eyes solemn, you only now notice the finely dressed man in front of you.

Eugene calls your name softly, like how someone would utter a person's name who's currently rotting six feet below the soft ground.

You are scorched by the sun. And you're ready to burn everything in your path.

“I'm so sorry about this—” Your knuckles hitting his cheek makes him stagger on his feet. He spits out blood, crimson coating the polished floors. “I deserved that.” He groans as he tries to straighten up with grace. With one look towards the staff, they all filter out of the hallway, leaving you alone with the object of your ire. “Listen, I didn't intend for this—”

“What did you intend then?” Your voice breaks from all the screaming and the sudden silence you sported after it. “Hm? Wed and bed me for what? Satisfaction? To breed me like a broodmare?”

“That—no! It's not like that!”

You wish you had your dagger to cut him right where he stood. Standing toe to toe with Eugene, he backs away from your heated glare. “What is it then? They're going to execute someone very close to me just because you wanted to marry someone you've only just met—”

“I fancy you and I had every intention to court you properly!” He sighs, and you notice the darkness under his eyes. “But this wasn't my intention. Getting someone in line for the gallows wasn't in my plan, or anyone's plan!”

Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, he continues. “Listen, I gushed about you to my family.” There's no lie in his tone, but you still doubt him. Your punch leaves a mark on his posh face. “They encouraged me to call for you, knowing that I needed to marry or my title and estate would be in danger. When my godfather heard your name he did more than to encourage me. He's the one who orchestrated this…quick marriage. Not me.”

“Godfather?” You ask breathlessly.

“He's inside, I have no idea why he would do anything like this! I promise you, I had no hand in this. I was forced, if I had a choice I would have courted you then let you decide if you wanted to marry me or not.” He tentatively takes your hand, “I'd take care of you though, I promise.”

Frowning, you grip his hand in an iron grip. Eugene winces, eyes darting around for help. “You do have a choice, Eugene. You always have a choice.” Your voice shakes. “It's not too late, call off the wedding and we can forget this ever happened—”

“I can't. Your family already paid the dowry, and we already paid our dues.” He says through the pain, voice faltering. You still won't let go. “My godfather did all the work, it's all set in stone. The priest is already waiting at the altar, your family and mine are already there. I'm sorry, Y/N, if the circumstances were different—”

“No,” you shake your head, eyes boring holes in his skull. Nails digging in, refusing to let go. “There's a part of you who wanted this, you're a man and a viscount, you had a choice. Yet you let it all happen.” Eugene frowns deeply, trying to get his hand back from your grip, head turned away in shame. “You were not forced, you're just as bad as your godfather, whoever he is, I'd like to face the fucking asshole.”

Pushing him away and away from the door, he sighs in relief, clutching his hand. You shoulder the heavy doors. Revealing a room that's finely decorated for the reception.

A sparkling chandelier hangs above, your ancestors’ portraits watch on from the walls. White lilies decorate the expansive room, violets are laid on every table. The fine table setting would've taken your breath away if not for the man sitting at the head of the table.

“Hello, little birdy.”

It's the end.

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closestshave · 2 years

Text

RULES.

INTERACTING. this will be a plot-heavy blog. i would much prefer to plot dynamics out before hopping into things with this particular set of muses. my interest tracker is mandatory to fill out! i don't know how much i'll reblog memes on here. i'll likely interact more often through (prompted and unpromoted) starters. if you do send a meme in, please make sure to specify a muse when you send in a meme. i will either contact you to see which muse you are interested in or i will not answer the meme at all. please, please, please reblog from the source! this goes for anything. memes, aesthetics, musings, etc. i want to keep my notifications clean on here. i am very open to duplicates, but exclusive to my johanna. i also set canon a year later than actual canon. sweeney arrive in london in 1847 and the final sequence happens in early 1848. this is to align with my canon for johanna. if you are no longer interested in being mutuals, please soft or hard block me. likes and follows will come from @pimpernals!!!

SELECTIVTY. i am a friends-only blog. what does this mean for me? this means we are already mutuals on my johanna blog. this is due to the dark nature of canon and the fact that i write male muses on here. i trust my friends will not only write with my male muses and my canons and will write with my ocs and female characters. my male muses are all request-only and usually require a lot of plotting before we jump into things. we operate at low activity and the nature of canon. non-roleplay blogs are not welcome here and will be hard blocked on sight. this is a mutuals only blog. if we are not mutuals, please do not interact with my ic or my ooc posts. i will not interact with muses from steven universe, the book of mormon musical, southpark, or anime.

FORMATTING. i do not expect you to match my formatting. i don't go too heavy on it aside from using small text and italics and bold. let me know and i will adjust as necessary. i use a variety of psds for different reasons, but the one you can find most commonly on here is til i forget about you by b1gtimerush. all icons, edits, etc. are made by me. do not use them without my permission!

TRIGGERS. triggering content will be tagged as “[trigger] tw." i tag common triggers and the ones you'll find on this blog (list below), but if you have something specific you need to be tagged, please im me about it or make note of it in my interest checker. keep in mind that canon is incredibly heavy and i will not be shying away from this. i will not be portraying the actual act of cannibalism. triggers present will include: rape, murder, cannibalism, death, revenge, broken families, child abuse, poverty, suicide and neglect. please tag political discourse, current events, and nsfw content for me.

NSFW/SHIPPING. as much as i love shipping, i do not expect this to be a very ship-heavy blog. i prefer canon relationships. thus, most muses are not open for shipping. i refuse to write sweeney/benjamin in a romantic relationship with lovett. i am of the opinion that he isn't open to any sort of romantic or sexual relationship if it isn't with lucy. lovett will be portrayed as obsessive/possessive towards benjamin/sweeney. i am uncomfortable with actually writing them in a romantic or sexual relationship. i find their dynamic fascinating and would love to explore them in other ways. as stated before, i would prefer to write canon relationships. this include benjamin and lucy, lovett and mr. lovett, etc. i'm a huge fan of all sorts of dynamics! enemies, friendship, etc. nsfw content may be discussed lightly on the dash, but tagged as "suggestive tw" and may appear in ooc conversation, but i will be keeping it very tame for the sake of my own boundaries. i will not write smut.

FINAL. i'm darcy (she/her; 18+). please don’t feel intimidated by me at all! i’m a bit shy so i completely understand why you might feel intimidated by approaching me, but i’m probably the least intimidating person you’ll meet and i’m very flexible!

#rules.#dni.

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opera25 · 3 years

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so this started as a small idea and it snowballed I'm very sorry and also this should probably be cw for unreality and maybe other things but I think unreality is the big one. so, without further ado, angsty sad times with ethubs in relation to the death coffee. (not sure how this turned out u r welcome to ignore it I will not take offense it's just a word vomit lol)

bdubs, the first time it happens says something along the lines of you almost died never do that again and etho thought it was a hyperbole he was fiiiiine bdubs was just overreacting but maybe he's reluctant to freak him out like that again. except that line, that barrier in the apartment tells him that maybe he doesn't matter to bdubs anymore. and the comfort of his sweet dreams warped into an cesspool of never-ending nightmares. and he doesn't want to sleep but it's so hard to stay awake when he'd gotten used to going to bed early and waking late and maybe he just needs something anything to get him through another sleepless night.

so maybe he get another one of those coffees. it didn't taste bad in the first place and it tastes even better now that he's desperate. he finishes it before he gets home.

it's fine. he can feel his heart beating out of his chest. he shifts in his seat and turns on hhis computer. panic rises within him.

it's fine. is bdubs home yet? even though they don't talk much anymore, he still likes to keep track of him. he might be out there, hurt, fighting for his life while ethos not around to help.

it's fine. he stumbles out of his room to face the cobblestone, marker?, something keeping him away from checking on him. he can't tell if the walls are drywall or snow anymore. his hands shake against it either way.

he's fine. he can't see bdubs anywhere from his side of the fort. "bdubs!" he calls. He'll come if he hears. they're best friends husbands. every breath he takes weighs him down more and more. he tries again. his knees buckle and he's on the floor, coughing as he feels bile rise in his throat.

Help, he cries. his vision blurs and mind fogs. he doesn't know how long he's been there when he feels warm arms gently tugging at his body, bringing him up and away from here.

*Breathes in*

*head in hands*

Anon, what in the world- When you said "A small idea and it snowballed" (lmao was that an intentional pun??) I was not expecting to literally get my heart ripped out. WHAT. I. I don't know what to say to this except I was the equivalent of that one kermit flailing his arms around the first 5 minutes after I read this

So now all of you reading this can suffer with me yayy <3

Also speaking of cw and tws! I should probably tag them from now on. Any suggestions for tw tags? Thank you!

#still head in hands #are you okay anon?#we re here for you #MLL #ope ask #tw unreality

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snuhee · 2 years

Text

ꕀ BLOOM INTO YOUR HEART | LJY

chapter 6: christmas party

you, chanhee, sunwoo arrived at hyunjae's house. it was huge, the largest in the whole neighborhood. you had to admit, it intimidated you. chanhee ran in leaving you and sunwoo behind. sunwoo immediately noticed how nervous you were because of the many times you kept pulling down your dress. he reassured you by placing his hand on your shoulder while giving you a warm smile.

"don't worry y/n. i'm sure we'll have a good time at this party." sunwoo comforted you.

"mhm can you stay with me the whole time." you pouted.

"of course. who else would babysit you besides me." he teased lightly chuckling at your reaction.

"hey!" you jokingly hit his arm.

the conversation you had with sunwoo made you less anxious. you were ready to enter the party and try to make friends with everybody. can't forget to also clear the awkwardness with juyeon, that was what you feared the most. the moment you walked in that door, you could see juyeon's tall-fit figure standing next to his friends in the kitchen. as you were about to freeze up, sunwoo softly pushed you in.

suddenly changmin walked up to you guys with a welcoming smile like it was his house.

"hey guys! and thanks for coming y/n! come in, come in. it's about to get exciting." changmin grinned from ear to ear pulling you guys more inside.

at the beginning of the party, you just tailed behind sunwoo like a baby duck to a mother duck. you just chatted amongst your friends until you made awkward eye contact with juyeon across the room.

you could see him make his way to approach you. you grip your cup that was in your hand nervously. many possibilities popped up in your head all at once, thinking of what he could say to you.

"um hey y/n... and before you run away again, i really need to talk to you." he tried to joke but it failed miserably. juyeon scratched the back of his neck looking away.

"oh my god, i didn't mean to run away from you. i just got really nervous sorry if you thought the wrong way." you swiftly replied before he can say anything else.

his face lit up like a cat, "really? i was out here thinking you didn't like me or something." he chuckled with a cute eye smile.

"you have a cute eye smile." you said out loud giggling without realizing you said that out loud.

"o-oh. thank you." he stuttered biting his lip for a second glancing at the floor before looking at you again.

"did i say that out loud..." your eyes widened. you tried to look everywhere but his eyes. this just got so awkward.

"hey no worries. i love compliments." he smiled mischievously.

"are you that much of a narcissist?" you teased but in your mind, you were thinking if it was too soon to say such a thing.

that same eye smile appeared, "never. and i think you have an adorable laugh."

you and juyeon continued to have a long conversation. maybe this party wasn't too bad?

ꕀ a lot of things kept your mind busy. school, your crush on your fellow classmate, and your mom who loves flowers who is currently in the hospital. it was hard to keep positive, but what if a flowerboy helped you grow?

pairing: highschoolcrush!juyeon x female!reader

genre: highschool au, socialmedia au, fluff, humor

warnings: profanity, suggestive, death of a loved one but i’ll tw everything in the chapters!

status: on going ( nov 17 2021 - tba )

taglist: @ccobbiee @chnhua @stealanity @nyujjan @luvrbin @hibuki-chan

can’t tag: @wonclusion @shxnz

a/n: sorry for the late chapter again TT finally you and juyeon interact mwehehe don’t be scared to let me know how ur liking this series so far:-)

(for more updates on the series, please check out the “#snuhee biyh.” tag under my blog)

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jinkookspencil · 1 year

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everything hurts and i'm dying

everything hurts after an intense gym session... but jungkook helps ease the pain.

description/tw/tags: ~3k words / jungkook x (f) reader / one-shot / fluff / hurt-comfort (maybe a dash of angst?) / sensual and suggestive (alludes to and mentions sexual acts but includes none, no actual smut) / established relationship /gym rat!jungkook / soft with some sexy and serious moments sprinkled throughout / i'm pretty sure i reached a follower milestone since my last fic so i just want to say thank you all so much for that. i hope you like this. read when sore from the gym lol. feedback is appreciated & welcome :)

“Everything hurts and I’m dying.”

“What did you do....?!” With his brows raised, his mouth agape, and a slight chuckle in his voice, Jungkook walks into your apartment to see you lying flat on the couch surrounded by every pillow you could get your hands on and with any necessity you’d need at arm’s length and the TV playing some trashy reality show you quickly turn off. You hear your boyfriend giggle at your words and undoubtedly your state, but it’s cut short when he appears by the couch, and you see a look of concern in his eyes as he looks down at you instead of the smile he must’ve had seconds ago.

“I…. I just went to the gym alone.”

“No,” he giggles before repeating the word sternly. “No. I know that. And I can’t believe it took you a whole day of pain before you thought to text me. You need to stick it out, baby. You said you wanted to build more muscles. Now tell me exactly what you did at the gym. Did you do the workouts I taught you? Which areas did you target?”

You stare at the ceiling, unable to look Jungkook in the eyes as you reveal the truth to him.

“I did everything you taught me… and I looked some up.”

“Okay, but if you really can’t move, as you texted me earlier, I need to know exactly what you did, baby…. Which areas of your body? Was it a leg day?”

“I told you I did…. everything. Legs, yes…. and my arms…. my shoulders… and I did my back too.”

“You…. you did what?!”

“Jungkooooooook,” you whine his name in hopes that it calms the anger in his face and voice… it almost does.

“You…. you did all of that in oNE DAY?!”

“I tried my best… I wanted to be stronger.”

“Sweetie, how many times do I have to tell you? This isn’t an overnight thing.” He walks away from view, pacing the room before facing you with his fingers at his temples. It’s hard to make out the meaning of the expression on his face, a weird mix of concern, slight amusement…. and definitely the anger that he tried but failed to conceal. “I know you tried your best, but you have to know yourself… You have to listen to me and pay attention when I tell you how to hold weights and which weights to pick up….”

“I tried….”

“I know you did,” he says, sighing before stepping towards you to kiss your forehead and sitting down by your feet. “I know you did, baby. Now, tell me exactly where it hurts. It’ll help me figure out what might’ve gone wrong or how to make you feel better.”

“I…. Everywhere, Jungkook. My legs, my arms, my back, my chest, and my fucking neck. That’s new. I didn’t know I could have a sore neck from the gym. You’d think I replaced my pendant with a kettlebell instead of lifting it up.” He nods, already knowing exactly what must’ve gone wrong, though he doesn’t point it out. “My neck never hurts when I’m with you.”

"Remind me to never let you go alone for the foreseeable future."

"I wanted to see if I could do it all on my own. But I do want you there I just.. wanted to know I could do it and prove that to myself. And.. this is the result."

"You can go to the gym alone, baby... You will be able to - easily. As you did before we started strength training... But this is a serious thing. It's not like when we both did art lessons and learned the rules just to break them and be creative. There are things you just need to learn how to do correctly. And I'm with you every step of the way until you can do it alone. And I'll also be there too, happily watching you when you squat - focusing on the main event rather than your form." He wiggles his eyebrows and slaps the side of your butt.

"Ouch, Koo!"

He shakes his head, softly rubbing your calf. "It really hurts everywhere, huh? Well, I’m already hurt just seeing you like this, but so I can know exactly how to help you, I can go to the gym right now and do every area you did so that you’re not in this alone.”

“Don’t put yourself through this torture,” you laugh, holding your stomach at the sting.

“….You did abs too?”

All you could do is stare at your boyfriend from under your hood. He knows the answer to his question. His fingers squeeze the space between his brows as he shakes his head and chuckles, still softly rubbing your calf with his other hand. “This girl… You’ll be the death of me and yourself.”

“As you know, or maybe you don’t since apparently you don’t pay attention to the gym shit I say anyways,” he says a moment later, "-Kidding. Now, normally I rest, which I’m glad you’ve been doing all day, even though I wish you told me to come first thing. Now I wouldn’t recommend this next technique, but sometimes I power through the pain by working out some more, an-“

“Absolutely not, Jeon. You told me that before. You’re a demon or something for that. Ugh, you’d definitely be the annoying girl that powers through period cramps with a workout.”

“Well, luckily, I don’t get period cramps, but seeing your strength and what they do to you, I doubt it,” he says, softly rubbing your tummy. “And it definitely won’t help you right now, but I know something that might. A massage.”

“I’m too lazy and in pain to get dressed and find a spa anytime soon, Koo,” you sigh.

“You have me.”

“I know you’re good at everything, baby, but -”

“I’m not, but I can try. I can’t count the number of sports massages and physical therapists I’ve seen. Let me try. I’ll stop as soon as you want me to.”

“Okay, but be gentle….”

“I always am… well…” he says, laughing. You shove him with your foot as he gets up to get the lotion from the bathroom. Coming back, he sees you exactly the same. “Babe, try taking off some of your clothes?”

“It… hurts.”

Jungkook sets down the bottle of lotion and gently and swiftly helps you out of your clothes until you’re in nothing but your panties. But it doesn’t stop you from muttering little “ouches” in the process.

“Oh, my baby really is in pain,” Jungkook whines in aegyo, helping you lay back on the couch. “I’m sorry, baby, I know it’s horrible. This is hard for me to watch too, but let me make you feel better, hmm?” And just like that, you believed and knew he could, especially since the brush of your hair he did and the quick kisses he placed on your nose and collarbone right then were enough to make you forget about the pain for a fraction of a second. “Ready?”

“Yes… but Jungkook, everything hurts. I might stop you.”

“Please stop me. Tell me everything - where it hurts, the sore spots, how to move. If you can’t talk, don’t worry about it - I know your moans and sounds well enough by now - the happy and painful ones - otherwise, just hit me or wave at me to stop. Oh… I probably should’ve laid you on your back, huh?”

“I can’t fucking move anymore, Koo. Just… do my front, and we’ll figure out the back later.”

Considering your state, you didn’t expect him to straddle you, but his gentleness surprises you further. If it weren’t for his thighs by your legs, you wouldn’t have guessed he was there… He pours a blob of lavender lotion onto his hands before freezing in his spot. “Holy shit… This is my favorite view,” he giggles, eyebrows rising at your nearly naked form beneath him.

You don't have time to respond. Before you know it, his hands are on your collarbone, lathering your skin in lotion before moving up your neck and down and across your shoulders, upper chest, and down your arms. Slowly, yet powerfully. With every stroke and touch, you feel the tensions in that area slowly release.

“This feels so…. good, Koo. More. And a little downwards…” you whine, the words barely escaping you with his fingers pushing the skin at your neck. He doesn’t reply with words, grunting at your pleasure as he focused on every movement he made and every reaction you gave.

“Does… does your chest hurt?”

You open your eyes to see the faintest hint of a smile on Jungkook’s face, still focused on his hands, which moved lower. “Is this an excuse to feel me up since you already got me naked and under you?”

“Well, does it hurt?”

“….Yes.”

“Then shut up,” he giggles, eyeing your raised buds. But he takes his time, his fingers swirling in small, quick circles above your breasts before moving up and down, and it’s hard not to moan at the pain and the slight pressure, especially considering Jungkook’s fully sitting against your crotch at this point instead of hovering over it. He makes it to your bud, squeezing it, and a shriek escapes you, and Jungkook almost did as well, hovering over you and widening his legs so as not to touch you at all. “What, was it too much, baby? Does it hurt?”

“Y—yeah,” you wince. “… I guess they’re too sensitive? I can't tell if it's the gym or maybe my period's coming soon. You can keep going, but… somewhere else.”

“You sure?” he asks, eyes wider than ever.

“I’m sure, baby. Do my legs.”

“As you wish, princess,” Jungkook nods, sitting beneath your legs, gently grazing your calves.

“…Harder, baby,” you whine, shaking your leg beneath his hands. “I can take it.”

A smirk appears on Jungkook’s face for a moment, but he shakes his head, visibly casting any thought aside in fear that his horniness will hurt you once again. So he swirls the soles of your feet, and kneads up and down your legs and thighs, easing every ache within them. When his fingers graze the lining of your underwear as he worked your inner thighs, you follow an urge.

“Jungkook,” you moan, wincing as you sit up to see his face, but he immediately lunges at you and lays you back down gently.

“A sit up now?! Are you crazy?” he says, a slight pant in his voice.

“I just…. I thought I could maybe…. since I’m… in case you’re….,” you mumble, unable to form a sentence due to the sexily angry look on Jungkook’s face over you and the pain rushing through your body once again. Your voice actually trails off when you look down at his crotch to see his bulge through his sweatpants. “Well, I know you’re… you know and…. I’m sorry that I can’t do… anything. Did you have to fucking grunt? It's the grunts that did it more than your touch. I want to, I want you, Koo, that’s why I… the sit-up. But… I’m in too much pain to do anything.”

Much to your relief, he sighs with a smile on his face and leans on all fours over you. “Baby,” he starts before placing a quick kiss on your nose, “First of all, calm down. I know you hate when I tell you that, but a massage is supposed to relax you - how are you supposed to relax when you're panicking like that? And - you always turn me on. This is normal as shit. Well, not this specific situation - please let me do this again when you’re all better, but… aroused as I may be, I think I’m too scared to hurt you some more to do anything, even if I’m gentle. I could barely look at you let alone continue touching you."

“No… please do, baby,” you whisper against his lips, rubbing his arm. “You’re so good at it, and I need it. I'm relaxed, I just want you... How about this - continue making me feel better… and tomorrow, you can make me feel good.”

“Done, princess,” he giggles, seeing you wiggle your eyebrows. “Don’t do that. What if your forehead hurts too?” He touches the skin there before the back of his fingers graze over your collarbone and up your neck just as he was about to resume his straddling position. “Tell me if it’s too much, yeah?”

“Wait, Jungkook.” You grab onto his shoulders to stop him, rushing to continue speaking so he wouldn’t stop then and there.

“Kiss me.”

He laughs, his lips meeting yours in a soft kiss before he lightly peppers your face, neck, and shoulders with barely-there kisses.

“This is today,” you whisper against his hair, softly tugging it. “Next time… mark me a little.”

You feel him smile against your skin. “It’s like you read my mind.”

“Come on, back to business,” he says, straddling your legs once again. “Now, your crotch - yes or no? Does that hurt too? Any vagina exercises you Googled?”

“No, you give me those too,” you laugh. “No pain, but I wouldn’t mind you working on it a little.”

“Horny brat,” he mutters, lightly touching your bikini area and in between your legs. You knew you were wet already, the grunt Jungkook let out, probably a reaction to the spot he must’ve seen on your underwear.

“What about ONE finger?”

You turn your head to face your boyfriend, realizing he must’ve been looking at you writhing beneath him the entire time. Had you been staring at him too, you knew the sight alone would’ve made you jump on him again.

“Who’s the horny brat now?!”

“It might help!”

“Jungkook, we both know what one finger will lead to,” you softly say, angry you have to resist him.

“I know, I know,” he nods, bending down to place a soft kiss on your fupa and waiting for you to rub his head. “Tomorrow. If you’re better.”

“I will be.”

He sits up, legs still on either side of you as he grazed your soft-lavender scented arms with his fingertips before finally intertwining his hands in yours, and for a moment that feels like it lasted hours, all you and Jungkook could do was stare at each other. A new source of pain emerged - a slight stinging in your cheeks from the now prolonged smile on your face, but you gladly welcomed it, especially seeing the smile on his face above you.

This - he - was your safe space - in pleasure and in pain. The physical and non-physical. The pillowness of his cheeks was more comforting than any bed you’d ever slept in. His wide smile more innocent and sincere than most of your old school photos, not without the too-perfect menacing twirl. His eyes were the warmest pools of galaxies and stardust, more beautiful than any natural landscape you’d seen with your own two eyes. His touch was warm against your hips, more calming than any hug you’d ever gotten from anyone else. For a moment, you forgot your pain. From the gym. From yourself. From your past. From life. But when Jungkook’s hand dips into your skin a little too hard but with just the right pressure, eyes still on your face, you remember that he’s far more than an antidote or a temporary fix-it solution.

The old you would’ve never gone to the gym, let alone ask for help at the sign of pain - too proud to admit to any misstep or neediness. The old you would’ve never trusted a man enough to be comfortably naked with, fupa, tummy, stretch marks out and all - as he took care of you. Receiving unconditional love and care after years of only giving it. But here you were. That was the thing about Jungkook. He made you want to live better. He made you realize you deserved to live better. And he did so not through any preaching or pressure but merely by living. By leading by example and believing in you. He made you unafraid - to trust yourself, to push yourself, even in everyday decisions like going to go the gym - as disastrous as this session’s result may be, it was a step in trusting yourself nonetheless.

“I feel like you’re thinking about something serious,” Jungkook whispers, staring into your eyes, which immediately water at the sound of his voice. “Hey, hey….” Suddenly, his face is right on top of yours, his fingers wiping away under your eyes. “I know you’re in pain, baby, but you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t make any mistakes. Because at least now you know what not to do, yeah? And I’m so fucking proud of you. You know that? I’m always so proud of you, baby.”

“I… I do, Jungkook,” you breathe against his nose. “I was… I was thinking about you. How the fuck do you always know what to say? I’m lucky to - ” His lips meet yours before you’re able to continue your sentence.

“Don’t, baby. This isn’t a ‘me’ thing. If anything, it’s an ‘us’ thing. I just know how it feels like - all of it. And if I didn’t live it, I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t get it. But I do, baby. And you know I can’t lie for shit so I mean every single word. So. Fucking. Proud of you. In every way.” The last words leave his lips as his forehead touches yours, and right after lifting your head to kiss him again, he sits up, scratching his arm.

“Baby,” you say with cautious eyes, knowing Jungkook’s ‘horny but I can’t do anything about it’ tell.

“Fuck, now I'm here thinking about you and I want you even more.”

“I, I do too,” you whine, thinking of a position or sexual act that might satisfy you both. “Is this a thing - what about reverse sixty n-”, but once again, Jungkook interrupts your train of thought.

“T- I’m not forgetting that,” he starts, holding back his giggle and holding your waist in his arms, “but…. tomorrow, as we said. Or the day after if you’re still sore. Gentle. I won’t be back to normal til you’re back to normal. And hey, I still have to do your back too.”

“Jungkook… Let’s just skip it and stay like this. Plus, I know you can’t resist my ass and getting full access like that…”

“Well, I was able to control my thoughts until you said, ‘full access to my ass,’” he pouts, his hand reaching under your hips to touch a bit of your plump behind. “I have to do your back, baby. I know it hurts, but I won’t be too long. And instead of sitting on your legs with access to your ass, I’ll sit on your ass and do your back that way.”

“With your dick against it?!” The both of you burst into a fit of laughter, Jungkook slowly leaning forwards until he leans over you again. “I'll be hard and horny, especially if you continue moaning, but I'll be fine. I'll focus on you... or not. I'll try thinking of the errands we have to do and hope my hands have a mind of their own."

A moment of silence later, he continues. "We overthink the crap out of things, but it paid off. I just thought of something for now. After I do your back. There’s no touching, but it’ll help relax your body even more - the last technique I didn’t tell you about - and with you, it’ll be sexy as fuck, and I can jerk off to the scene for the rest of my life.”

You raise your brows in intrigue.

“Come on, princess. I’ll help you turn around, then I’ll finally rip your cute little underwear off of you and draw you up a nice, warm bubble bath.”

“Don’t join me in the tub. I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you. I’ll agree only if you get in the shower and give me a little show too. A glimpse of what you'll be doing for the rest of your life. And - since I'm in pain and being extra greedy, a soapy, sexy little dance to go along with it.”

“Happily, princess.”

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