#RAW & UNEDITED YET

[jkslipppiercing]

Needy | jjk oneshot

♡ summary: your boyfriend often helps you set up for your weekly girls' night...what happens when he gets needy for you only 15 minutes before your girl friends arrive?

♡ pairing: boyfriend!jungkook, dom!jk.

♡ genre: smut, smut, aaaand- you guessed it- smut!

♡ warnings: pure filth, pwp, oral (f receiving), he eats her out, he fucks her from behind, overstimulation, squirting, choking, praise, begging, uh what else- spanking, dirty talk, cursing, creampie, raw sex, penetration, he's basically obsessed with her ass.

♡ WC: 3.2K.

♡ a/n: this is my first time experimenting with smut, so bear with me. please please please never hesitate to share your thoughts about my works with me, constructive criticism is very appreciated, since it helps me write better, and especially if what im writing is for you to read- it would help me to know what you think!

index

taglist

-unedited.

you place your hands on your hips and settle your gaze on the scene before you.

at least fifty fluffy pillows are thrown all over fuzzy bean bags that occupy the whole space in the livingroom- save for the couch that sits in the middle, faced with the TV.

you're already in your silk PJs, a silk set of shorts- that are above thigh- and a shirt. drinks, beers, and shot glasses are neatly positioned on the table, along with millions of other snacks scattered all over the place.

Jungkook usually prepares the food and snacks like popcorn, chips, and natchos while you take care of the setup with the pillows, beanbags, and blankets.

it's fifty fifty.

every saturday night, jiho and yejun- your girlfriends- get dropped off at yours for a disastrous girl's night where drinks are exchanged and secrets are spilled.

in the meantime, jungkook heads out of the apartment and to his mates'- yoongi and taehyung, respectively jiho and yejun's boyfriends- for what he calls a "mature hangout" which is anything but.

you know for a fact they play video games and gossip about all three of their girlfriends.

speaking of your boyfriend, he waltzes into the living room, two bowls of popcorn stacked on top of each other in one hand and a plate of nachos in the other.

he sets them down on the table and turns to you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you to him rather abruptly.

you squeal, laughing when he wiggles his brows at you playfully before nuzzling his nose with yours.

you wrap your hands around his neck, putting your forehead to his.

soft locks of his hair meet your fingertips in a familiar caress, used to your touch.

your nails gently stroke Jungkook's scalp as he hums in satisfaction, his eyes shutting closed as he relishes your proximity.

"thank you."

"I already told you before, you dont need to thank me, sweetheart."

"i do, though."

"but i dont even do much."

"you do more than enough."

"it's the bare minimum. i wish i could offer more."

"shut up and accept my thanks, dumbass."

he chuckles and you pull away.

seconds later, you find yourself away from Jungkook's arms and frowning at the table, leaning down to fix the placement of the bowls Jungkook had just brought in.

"Kook! You got them wrong again! i always tell you, popcorn, natchos, popco-"

you feel a sharp slap on your ass, followed by a hushed curse.

"fuck."

you straighten, your jaw almost hitting the floor.

you were leaning down wearing short shorts, not paying attention of the possibility of flashing Jungkook. Your ass must've been on full display- scratch that- it was.

turning around, you take in the intensity of his gaze.

the earlier playfulness is long gone, replaced with cloudy chocolate eyes, hooded with something you were always able to identify- lust.

"did you just-"

he pulls you by the waist, catching you by surprise, yet again.

he looks at you in a way that quite literally has you melting, but you cant deny, youve never been wetter.

you can feel your arousal through your panties, only resulting from the mini spank delivered mere seconds ago.

"you're sexy in silk." his husky voice travels over your senses and sends them into overdrive.

just when you thought the situation couldnt get any hotter, his palms trace from your waist down to your ass.

he palms the soft tissue before squeezing it, hard.

your eyes shut immediately as you bite your lip.

his hand retracts only to land on your ass shortly after, sending a jolt of pain through your being and setting you alight with pleasure.

you gasp, incapable of making any other sound.

"bend over."

"w-what- right now?!"

"dont let me repeat myself, Y/N."

"but the girls will be here in fifteen minutes!"

"fifteen minutes is more than enough for me to make you cum more than twice."

more than twice?

dont mind if i do.

the pool of heat in your lower belly grows hotter under his gaze.

this man must be insane.

"go on." he steps away, willing you to get into the position.

you comply, bending over the armrest of the couch and stabilizing yourself on your palms.

"are you sure this is a good idea-" another spark of pain, from your ass cheek aiming to your pussy.

fuck.

you're silenced by the spank, and so, you dont say anything else. you just let the man behind you do his thing. not that you mind...

you can feel his presence behind you, and you're almost begging him to touch you until he hooks his fingers into the band of your shorts and tugs them down.

"i love your ass so fucking much." ...and another spank.

his words leave you breathless. you always knew how talented jungkook was with using his mouth, and he proves you right when he moves the string of the thong you're wearing to the side. he latches his mouth onto your pussy, eliciting a loud exhale from you.

you were never the type to scream your lungs out at the lightest touch, but you're also not hard to please, either.

at first, he works with a few nibbles and sucks on your opening, groaning into your entrance approvingly. he only gets a few gasps from you in return.

his hands are planted on your ass cheeks, spreading them apart as he dives in even deeper.

he surprises you when he pulls away, making you whine in protest but before you can straighten-

"don't move." he says from between your legs. "spread your legs wider for me, baby."

holy shit, this man is going to be the absolute death of you.

you can feel your pussy clenching around nothing at the dirty words, and you grow more achingly weak by the second.

when you do spread your legs, his tongue licks at you, but from a different angle. he switched his position so his butt is sitting on the ground beneath you, his back pressed to the couch. he grabs your hips and pulls you down to him, licking up your arousal from clit to opening then back again.

"so wet. for me?"

you hum in agreement.

it's true.

all for him.

he's no longer testing the waters, taking your clit in his mouth.

he sucks on it, causing you to moan.

you shamelessly moan at the action, but then he adds a finger.

and after he adds another finger, he moans into your pussy, sending vibrations through your body and fogging up your brain.

your mind is clouded, only focusing on the man between your legs, eating your pussy out like a hungered man.

he moves his fingers, slowly at first. you relish the delicious stretch his long fingers offer, moaning in appreciation.

it starts slow, but then his pace grows faster, snatching your breath away with it.

he's still nibbling on your clit, making your head swim.

your moans grow louder when he hits a spot with his fingers, and your mouth hangs open at the sensation.

"think you can handle another finger?" he rasps beneath you.

"please." a husky, breathless plea is all you can muster in this situation.

"please what?" he demands.

he adds another finger, making you take all three at once. he rubs your clit with his thumb, and all your thoughts are thrown out the window. you simply cant think.

his hand makes harsh contact with your ass cheek in a rough slap, doing an amazing job is heightening your pleasure.

"answer the question, y/n." his tone is dark, commanding you to reply, but you simply cant.

"oh, god!" you let out a high pitched moan when he curls all three of his fingers, knowing how to push all your buttons.

he knows. he's mapped out every inch by inch of your body, so you wouldnt be surprised if he reached certain spots even you wouldnt be able to reach.

you know that because you've tested that theory for yourself.

and you were right.

the man is a god at giving mind-blowing orgasms.

"beg for it." is all he says before he goes knuckles deep into you, basically abusing your hole. but it feels too good for you to argue, not that you want to.

he latches back on to your clit, and his fingers remain unrelenting at a fast speed.

"please, please, please!" you chant in a desperate moan for a release.

"Kook!" and right then and there, your orgasm hits you like a train and you tense. the euphoria is injected into your veins, mind-numbing you.

"that's it, baby." Jungkook coaxes you through it, pulling his fingers out to replace them with his tongue. he laps up your arousal, not wasting a single drop.

"you taste divine."

you just came, but now you want more.

Jungkook stands, leaning down to get ahold of you. you were hit with such a strong orgasm that you slumped forward in the midst of it, face planting on the couch like jello.

he hugs you from behind and you arch into him, feeling his erection.

he holds your body with one hand, grabbing your jaw and turning your face to him with the other.

you plant your lips onto his own soft ones, humming in contentment.

"thank you."

"we're no where near done for you to thank me, sweetheart."

you wouldnt come out alive.

"one more wouldnt hurt, right?" you say as if you're trying to convince yourself, aiming the words at you more than him.

he laughs, a deep rumble erupting from his chest. "we'll see."

what in bloody hell is that supposed to mean?!

the hand once holding your jaw now slithered down to your neck, claiming you as his. he pushes your hair to the side, tucking his head into the crook of your neck to place a few kisses there.

he takes your shirt off, your bra going right after as you're left naked for him to play with you.

he chokes you lightly, inhaling your scent as the other hand travels down to cup your pussy.

you're left breathless, even more so when he pinches your clit.

"who does this belong to?" he rasps into your ear, the sound so sexy it sends jolts of arousal through your spine, pooling down to wet slick between your legs.

"you." you mumble under your breath.

he slaps your pussy and you moan, arching your back and grinding back onto him.

"louder."

"you!" you desperately grind on his hand, only for a bit of friction.

"that's right." he snuggles into your shoulder, hand still on your neck as the other teases your entrance. "good girl."

your hands are clutching onto the arm rest for dear life, growing weak. your schest in heaving, and you might explode from all the hormones you're feeling right now.

Jungkook lets go of you, and you hear sounds of clothes shuffling which makes you look over your shoulder to meet his eyes just as he's unbuckling his belt, shirt off, chains on.

you're salivating.

"like what you see?"

he knows he's hot. smug bastard.

you only spread your legs wider as a response, putting your wet entrance on full display only for him to see.

you see him curse under his breath before he crosses the distance between you in a few strides, grabbing you by the neck to kiss you.

his tongue delves into your mouth, roaming, exploring, and dominating all it wants.

again, not that you mind.

seeing no reason in dragging this out any longer, the head of jungkook's cock nudges against your entrance, having you weak at the knees.

you moan into his mouth and he smiles into the kiss, always loving how responsive you are to his actions.

he pins one of his hands down on your hips, keeping you in place as he holds his cock with the other.

he guides it to your pussy, gliding it up and down your slick, causing your knees to waves everytime he nudges it with your clit.

"you ready for me?"

"please." is not even a coherent answer to his question, and he knows that because he chuckles at your neediness.

it started out with him convincing you to fuck him because of his neediness, and here you are now, begging for his cock.

he enters you with just the tip, testing the waters at first.

this isnt the first time you've had sex with jungkook. it's just that he needs to give you time every time because you just never got used to his size.

hes just so fucking big.

he enters you with another inch, then one after another until he bottoms out.

he groans at your warmth and your mouth hangs open at both the sound and the stretch.

"so fucking tight. all for me."

"all for you." you dont recognize your voice. all out of breath and high pitched, but jungkook loves it. he loves to hear you moan and writhe beneath him.

he stays there for a couple of seconds, letting you accommodate to his length.

he leans forward to take your tits in his hand, rolling the pebbled peaks between his thumb and index which makes your breath hitch. he toys with your breasts, kissing your shoulder from behind as he begins to move.

"mmm, fuck." is all he says before he moves his hips, gently. he knows when to be rough when it comes to sex, which causes him to speed up when all you do is breathe loudly.

it's like he has it as his mission to make you moan for him. for his ego.

and you do, because one minute, jungkook is being all lovey-dovey and slow with you, and the other, his hips are snapping into your at an incredibly high speed.

he leans back and grabs you by the hips, only to ball your hair into his fist and tug on it harshly. your hands are back on the armrest, desperately holding on.

he's fucking you relentlessly, groaning deeply at your tightness when you clench harder around him.

his groans are answered with high moans and pleas, and Jungkook speaks, his voice so full of restraint.

"look in front of you, y/n." and that's when you realize that you can see your reflection in the window.

you can see how Jungkook is manhandling you and take you from behind, and that does nothing but push you even closer to your climax.

"Jungkook!"

"can you see it?" he rasps out breathlessly. "can you see how well you take my cock, baby?"

"fuck!" there goes the second orgasm.

"cum for me." it barrels down on you and weighs you down even more than the first, tiring you out.

Jungkook's hand leaves your hair and grabs you by the neck, pulling you even more back to him and arching your back.

that position is the only thing keeping you from slumping forward and face planting onto the couch.

Jungkook thrusts just once, causing you to whimper out of overstimulation.

"i cant. i'm sorry, Jungkook. maybe you can fuck my mouth instead-"

"you did well."

"huh?"

"but you can do better."

hell no you cant-

he rubs your clit, still buried ball's deep inside of you.

the clit stimulation makes you relax a little bit, and maybe you can try.

"okay." you muster out a small confirmation which he gladly takes, except this time, he's anything but gentle.

Jungkook goes faster than he did before, ramming into you from behind but still rubbing your clit.

he squeezes your throat and leaves you little to no space to breathe, then loosens his hold after a couple of seconds.

he fucks you so hard you see stars, sounds of skin slapping against each other filling the room. his balls slap against your pussy, and it just feels divine.

your ass must be red by now, and you just cant breathe.

and then, you're hit with a sensation like never before. you cant see, cant breathe, cant hear, cant speak. a throaty scream snatches out of your throat and this orgasm is like none of the ones you've experienced before.

"you can take it." fuck fuck fuck fuck.

"fuck, kook!"

"yeah, baby? you like the way i fuck you so hard you forget your name?"

"thank you, thank you, thank you-" you're screaming, helpless. he's rubbing your clit, fucking you animalistically, tugging on your hair, and you can see it all in the reflection. you can feel his love for you.

the overstimulation doesnt make you uncomfortable, it makes you breathless.

he slaps your ass and smiles at the handprint.

shortly after, Jungkook curses under his breath and cums, "take it all." he thrusts into you through his orgasm, and when he's done, he pulls out and admires the masterpiece he created.

his cum mixed with yours oozes out of your pussy, and he plays with it, getting the mess all over his fingers.

you turn around just in time to see him suck his fingers clean, maintaining eye contact as he moans in satisfaction.

instead of feeling embarrassed, you step closer to him and kiss him. you both smile into it as you can taste yourself and him on his tongue, which feels amazing.

it feels euphoric.

you pull away, slightly cringing at the slick wetness you feel all over your thighs, which makes you confused.

"did i pee or something?" you say, perplexed, as you look at jungkook, which snorts in response.

"no, baby, you squirted." he gestures to his own lower abdomen, signaling the mess you made all over him. "you did it all over me, too. it was hot as hell."

you've never squirted before.

thats enough proof that he really did go all out this time.

wow.

when you look to the ground, seemingly embarrassed about it, he hooks his finger under your chin and makes you look up to meet his eyes.

"nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart." his eyes alone speak volumes. the man loves you more than himself.

"just proof that i fucked you well." he wiggles his brows, making you laugh.

you hug him in response, but then you remember...

"oh my god! the girls! i totally forgot!" you go to take a step forward, but wobble and almost fall instead.

jungkook immediately grabs you by the waist, stablizing you and pulling you to him.

"easy there, you're gonna hurt yourself." he says smugly, knowing he's the reason that's got you so sore.

"i should probably call them and make sure-"

"i already texted yejun saying you had a fever and cant get up from bed." he says a little too quickly.

he did what?

"you did what?!" youre so puzzled right now. "but why?"

"do you think i'm gonna leave you here after literally ruining you just to hangout with my mates?" he raises his brows, a frown tugging them together when he pins you down with a hard stare.

"plus, you need to shower, and you cant do that alone-" he smiles, his bunny teeth showing. "you need me to help." he wiggles his brows yet again, and you catch onto the implication a little too quickly.

there's no way you're surviving a second round in the shower...

right?!

what do yall think for a first time?

@hoseokteardrop @nochuel @kaitieskidmore97 @nays2112 @jksoftii @yu-justme @meadow-in-spring @bunnykoos @looneybleus @fushigurosdarling @alpha-mommy69 @junecat18 @xjiminsthighsx @tanniesdolls @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @whoa-jo @ahgasegotarmy116 @jksusawife @frgetmenotz @baechugff @partyparty-yah @army130613210521 @drugerlime @allisonstone @hopekive @llallaaa @tarahardcore @hopetookmysoul @betysotelo18 @harmonic55 @ecrvea @awesomebabyyoda @peterstarkchrishiddleston @pinkrockstar19 @sweetestseoul @luv--youu @mochminnie @coletaehyung @whitelies2248-blog @ash07128 @bangtans-momma

[maximoff-pan]

(don't want to) fight this feeling | colin bridgerton

summary: this is what happens after a friend asks another friend to kiss them – or simply just the aftermath of two people realizing there might be more between them and being awkward fools on their journey to get there

pairing: colin bridgerton x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k

warning(s): idiots in love, absolute fools, absolute awkwardness, fluff, some kissing, a tad suggestive, rusty and heavily unedited writing (sue me, it's been a while)

a/n: hello you lovely peoples! it's been a while... this is my first time writing for colin so I apologize if the characterization feels a bit off. I'm still quite rusty in the writing department, but I hope you enjoy this regardless! as always, feedback and comments are much appreciated and I love you all!

• ж • ж • ж • ж • ж • ж •

‘Colin, please–’ Your voice is unwavering, and yet he can’t help but relish in the fact that you’re begging – pleading for him. In all the years he’d known you, you’ve never been one to grovel. 

‘Tell me.’ He breathes, eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. ‘Use your words.’

Your lips, swollen from kissing him, part enough for you to say: ‘I want you Colin. All of you.’

And in that moment, everything fades…

•••

Colin wakes abruptly, chest heaving and covered in sweat. It’s been happening more and more recently, these dreams. Dreams of desire, an incessant yearning for the feeling of your lips on his.

He doesn’t know what to call it. Infatuation perhaps – a pure and raw chemical reaction of attraction – however wrong it may be. You’re his dearest friend, and the kiss you’d shared was merely an innocent gesture, a favour for a person he cares about dearly. Your first kiss – hardly his first, yet he’d never understood the true meaning of voracity before it. 

Saying it meant nothing doesn’t feel right. And chalking up this sensation to a merely physical response feels even more wrong. It’s simply not enough to describe the way his heart races when he thinks of you, how his breath catches in his throat and words become obsolete. He dares to wonder if your friendship could blossom into something more, if you even feel the same. Is this what love feels like? 

• ж • ж • ж • ж • ж • ж •

He’s kissing you again, this time like he may never get the chance to again. However frantic, it’s sweet. It’s like him – feels like Colin.

‘You’re so beautiful.’ He says in a whisper.

You chuckle a content laugh, running a hand through his soft and perfectly styled hair. ‘Not near as beautiful as you, Mr. Bridgerton.’

The moment feels so real, feels like it should be. But you know it’s a figment of your mind working against you as your eyes open to the unfortunate sight of your ceiling. 

•••

Your chest rises and falls rhythmically, awoken by the sunlight drifting through your bedroom window, along with thoughts of him. Last week you had been simply a girl – one who had never felt the kiss of a man, one who thought she may never be so lucky. But today, you are a woman who has, no matter the circumstances. 

You’d asked Colin to kiss you, not out of desperation, but out of curiosity and loneliness perhaps. You wanted to know what you were missing out on, what such intimacy could mean for a person. And there is no man you would trust with your reputation more than him. 

The pit in your stomach however, grows with each passing moment. You wonder, have you made a mistake? Are these things you’re feeling for Colin a mere fantasy – a result of a heat of the moment. You can’t help but feel like there has always been something there for you, something just beneath the surface of your friendship.

It’s silly to believe Colin could feel that way about you. But kissing him, feeling the touch of his lips to your own has left you with a want for him – a need for him that you have been taught is unacceptable for a woman to voice. And suddenly, there’s shame. These desires are not natural, not realistic, not feminine. 

But how are you supposed to go on as if it meant nothing to you? How are you supposed to talk to him again, look him in the eye and have everything be as it once was? Colin Bridgerton is not someone who you’ve had to hide your feelings from. It’s always been a lost cause – he has you memorized like a book he’s read thousands of times. Maybe even one that he’d written himself.

And you’re certain he’ll be able to sense the shift in your behaviour, and likely the reason why. You only hope he’ll let you down gently because at the end of every day, your friendship is what matters most to you. 

• ж • ж • ж • ж • ж • ж •

Side by side with Eloise, you smile as she prattles on about the latest novel she’s been reading. Usually her conversation holds your full attention; often she doesn’t give you a choice otherwise. But today, you can’t help but find your mind drifting somewhere else. 

Your gaze meets Colin’s for a brief moment from across the grassy field in Hyde Park. Where you once found comfort in the blue of his eyes, now your stomach turns with unease. He’s surrounded by a gaggle of young ladies, surely desperate to get his attention. Colin would make a suitable husband for any one of them, you think. 

You look away from him just as quickly as you’d caught his stare, the dirt below your feet suddenly becoming intriguingly interesting. Eloise takes note of the interaction, her lips pulling into a thin frown. 

“Is everything alright?” Eloise asks, an eyebrow raised in query before clarifying, “Between you and my brother.” 

Your gaze refuses to meet hers. You’re afraid that she'll be able to see right through you. “Is there something that indicates otherwise?”

You recognize the defensive nature of your response is likely to garner more suspicion, but it’s difficult to think of an appropriate answer when the question regards Colin Bridgerton. Somehow, thoughts of him make everything more complicated.  

“It’s just,” she treads lightly, walking swiftly alongside you, “this is the fourth time in a week you two have been in each other’s presence, and you’ve barely spoken. You typically seek Colin out, and him you. And now I get the sense you are avoiding him.”

You glance back over to him, watching as he continues to entertain the same group of young ladies, however his audience seems to have grown.

“He looks rather busy, does he not?”

You don’t mean for your voice to sound so apathetic, so uncaring as it does. But Eloise recognizes that you care a great deal. You’re jealous. 

“I suppose he is.” She smiles, knowing just how much Colin must hate the predicament he’s found himself in. “How about we rescue him?”

You mean to protest, but Eloise doesn’t give you a chance to respond before she’s dragging you by the arm towards the one person you do not wish to speak to at the moment. It’s been terribly awkward since you’d asked Colin to kiss you, and you can’t help but knowing that it’s your fault.

You were the one who promised it would mean nothing, and you suppose it had meant nothing to him – but you should have known the ramifications would be disastrous for you. Who asks their best friend (whomst they are in love with) to kiss them and then expects their feelings not to grow tenfold? 

“Brother!” Eloise pushes into the group with your arm wrapped around hers. 

Colin’s face lights at the sound of her voice, relief flooding his features. “Eloise,” he responds, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

The young women around him sigh at his words. Had they never heard a man be polite with his sister before? Surely that couldn’t be anything special. 

You roll your eyes as one of them decides to cling herself onto Colin’s side. The rumblings of jealousy aside (which you really shouldn’t be feeling), this behaviour is utterly pathetic to you. 

Eloise notes your distaste with an amused chuckle. “We’ve come to take you back to Bridgerton House for Kate and Anthony’s luncheon. Mama’s orders.”

“Oh…oh!” Colin recognizes her attempt at a rescue. “My god, it must have slipped my mind. If you will forgive me ladies,” he sends them a charmingly teasing wink, “it has been wonderful getting to know you all.”

Taking his leave with you and his sister, Colin tips his hat politely, departing from the group. Eloise marches slightly ahead of the two of you, eyes set on the carriages you are to ride back to your respective households in. 

The silence feels suffocating and unfamiliar. It’s uncomfortable and exactly what you’d hoped it wouldn’t be.  Eloise turns to you suddenly as you reach your separate transports. “Are you sure you won’t ride back with us? Surely we can take you home.” She says.

You force a smile. “Positive.” You affirm. “My driver is already here. It would be rude of me to have brought him here only to leave without me.” 

“Alright then.” She hugs you as she takes a step into her carriage. She leaves the door open for her brother as his gaze catches yours for a moment. This might be the longest you’ve gone in his presence in total silence. 

You break away from his piercing stare, taking a breath in apprehension. “Goodbye Mr. Bridgerton.” You say, finally. 

“Goodbye Miss (L/n).” He returns with a nod. 

Turning away, you step into your carriage as a driver closes the door for you. That interaction felt wrong, awkward, and difficult. Nothing like the ease of conversation you are used to.

Colin feels much the same as he sits in the Bridgerton carriage, eyes glossed over in thought. 

Eloise wants to smack him but decides against it in better judgment. She simply watches him for a few moments – sees his discomfort and wonders what could have possibly gone wrong between you and her brother. 

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” Colin’s eyes meet hers. He means it as a joke, but his tone does not convey it that way. 

“What is rude, brother,” she tuts, her position on this very firm, “is treating your best friend as if she is a stranger.”

“Eloise.” Colin warns.

“No.” She holds her palm up, objecting to his dissuasion. “What happened between you?”

He scoffs. “Does privacy mean nothing to you?”

He’s being evasive and defensive – much like your previous response to her questioning. Usually Colin only gets like this when feelings are involved. The last time Eloise had seen him behave this way, Marina had been at the center of it. 

He’d become distant and dejected from the ordeal. The overall rejection, knowing she hadn’t really loved him had caused him to turtle in on himself. And the only person who’d been able to pull him out of it, had been you. Now he seems to be going back in. 

Colin had always been sensitive, more in touch with his emotions than any of her other brothers, but that often left him more open to heartbreak. 

“You love her.” Eloise finally decides to say. 

Colin doesn’t react the way she thinks he will. “Of course.” He replies like it’s obvious. “(Y/n) is my dearest and oldest friend.”

“Allow me to rephrase.” She clarifies, “You are in love with her.”

At that, his reaction is much different. Eyebrows raised and blinking nearly too rapidly for Eloise to perceive – this is what she expected. He’s been caught.

He stutters on his words. “You – you cannot be serious! I’m not – I am not in love…”

Colin feels like he’s breaking. Because as perceptive as Eloise is, so are you; and if Eloise can read him this clearly, he fears you can too.

Her voice is gentle when she speaks, not for a second believing this display of refusal to admit his feelings. “Have you told her how you feel?”

Colin gives up, retreating in on himself. His posture slumps in defeat. “No.” He says. “And I cannot for the life of me, get her out of my mind. It’s like every time I close my eyes, I feel—”

Eloise edges closer to him when Colin stops himself with a sharp inhale. “Feel what?”

I feel her lips on mine, he thinks. 

He frowns, gaze falling downward. “Nothing.”

“Colin…”

“Eloise for Christ’s sake,” he barks, “I said it is nothing.”

His voice is cold and unforgiving, like a switch has been flicked and Eloise cannot begin to understand why. Colin is clearly leaving something out — something important. And it’s a sore topic for him. 

“Whatever it is,” she eyes him cautiously. “You need to tell her.”

• ж • ж • ж • ж • ж • ж •

The afternoon carries on uncomfortably, your mind still on overdrive from your unsettling encounter with Colin. The ride home had given you too much time to think. Too much time to worry, and it had only further worsened the pit in your stomach. 

Your mother had questioned why you’d arrived back so early, having previously planned to spend an afternoon at the Bridgertons. Telling her you felt unwell, you made your way to your room, collapsing on the mattress of your bed with a sigh.

Before long, you’re being informed you have a visitor who’s waiting for you in the drawing room. You’re fairly certain who it is. Eloise has always been a caring friend, if not a little motivated to meddle. Who you were not expecting to see, is her brother Benedict. What interest does he have in this?

“You know you needn’t come see me.” You say flippantly as you enter the room where she’s sitting on the couch with a book on her lap, her second oldest sibling sitting beside her. “Benedict.” You nod at him politely. He returns the gesture as an acknowledgement of his presence. 

“I must say,” she disagrees, “I felt a little obligated to check on you.”

“And why is that?” Benedict jumps in with a smirk.

She sends him a look of disapproval. He knows exactly why.

“Colin was not himself today.” Eloise settles on. Equally pointed, she asserts, “Nor were you.”

“I suppose there is no hiding it from you.” You admit, taking a seat across from them. “Our lack of conversation was abnormal.”

She chuckles at that. “It is usually so difficult to get a word in edgewise when you two are together. But today, it was like you could not even look each other in the eye.”

“I do apologize.” You say dejectedly. “I feel that has much to do with me.”

Eloise frowns at your admission. “I cannot say that I have the context needed to understand what is going on between you, but I do know that Colin does not blame you.”

You release a breath you hadn’t known you were holding, air escaping your lungs. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No.” She responds, looking to Benedict to see if he knows anything more. He shakes his head. “And I – we respect your privacy not to push you into telling us something you’re not ready to.”

You smile softly. “That sounds nothing like the Eloise I know.”

“I am trying to be supportive.” She huffs a laugh, tone light and joking. 

“Well, since you did not ask,” you begin, wringing your hands and fingers together, a nervous energy Eloise is not used to from you, “I asked Colin to kiss me.”

Her brow furrows in confusion, no indication of shock on her features. Colin is in love with you, she thinks. How could things have possibly ended this way? She doesn’t stop you, allowing you to take a pause before you continue.

“I was feeling down. Function after function, I leave with no prospects, and my chances of finding a husband feel as if they are less than nothing.” Your eyes lock with hers, knowing she does not share the same sentiment of finding a life partner. “I did not want to die not knowing what it felt like to kiss someone.”

Benedict’s eyes search yours. He feels your heart yearning, feels the curiosity and desperation in your voice. He sympathizes with you, wholly. 

“You must know (Y/n),” He speaks, eyes twinkling with knowledge neither you nor his sister are privy to. “The only reason you have not been called upon is because of Colin.”

Eloise turns to him in disbelief. “Brother…” She trails.  

Simultaneously, you blurt, “excuse me?”

“Explanation Benedict.” Eloise chimes, impatiently.  “Now.”  

Benedict eyes you carefully before he begins his account of the situation. And as he’s speaking, your world fades away. His voice becomes distorted, like static – you find yourself unable to hear what he’s saying. 

What you do manage to pick up is that Colin had labelled you off limits. No gentleman of the ton stood a chance against his protective eye…because as Benedict finishes he says, “No one could be right for you, except him.”

• ж • ж • ж • ж • ж • ж •

Stepping into Bridgerton House, you feel like your blood is boiling. 

“Miss (L/n).” Violet greets you pleasantly. She’s always been kind, warm, and welcoming. 

“Afternoon, Lady Bridgerton.” You force a smile, nodding gently in her direction. “Is Colin home?”

“Yes, I believe so.” Her voice is gentle but knowing. She’s well aware of the feelings you and her son share. “In the study.”

“Thank you.” You’re grateful; she recognizes that.

Pushing up the stairs and through the hallway, past the door to the study, you forget to knock. Inside you find Colin sitting at the desk, pen in hand. But he’s not writing. He’s simply staring into space. 

“You had no right.” You announce yourself. 

His eyes shoot to yours. “(Y/n).” Is all he can manage to say. With one look, he knows exactly what this is about. 

“You knew – you knew how helpless I felt.” There’s pain written in your expression, a betrayal of trust. “I thought the reason I could not find a husband was because I was so unlikeable – that I was not worthy of another’s love.” Tears threaten to fall.

Colin tries to interject, but all that comes out is a strangled whisper, please, none of that is true. 

“I told you how I was feeling! You — you let me think it was my fault.” Tears lace your waterline like one of the fabrics on your dresses. “And God,” pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh in exasperation, “I asked you to kiss me because I thought no man could ever think of me that way…”

“You have to let me explain.” Colin pleads, voice just as desperate as yours. 

“What is there to explain Mr. Bridgerton?”

“I love you.” He shouts, tears in his own eyes. 

You’re taken aback. Of course you knew he loved you, as a dear friend. He’d told you that countless times, as you had him. But the way his gaze is piercing yours, the way his voice trembles – this doesn’t feel like something just a friend is saying. 

He relents. “I could not watch you with another, especially when I know these men well…I know their intentions, their thoughts that run wild with impurities.” He fiddles with the sleeve of his dress shirt, unease creeping up on him. “And I fear I have been having these thoughts myself.”

“Colin.” You murmur, taking a step toward him. Your anger is slowly dissipating, although still bubbling under the surface. 

“I have not been able to sleep without dreaming of you. I close my eyes and all that appears is the moment I felt your lips on mine.” He pauses, taking a shuddered breath. “And I, I – I try to stop myself because I know you wanted it to mean nothing. But it meant everything to me.”

You feel your heart lurch in your chest. He’d been having these same worries, the same thoughts, dissuading him from believing you could be anything more than friends. That it wasn’t right any other way. But it is; you know it could be.

“I was scared.” You inch your way closer to him, voice softer now. “I did not want to face my feelings. I cannot tell you when they changed, when you became the only man I could ever dream of loving. But they did. And I thought if you knew, you would never look at me the same again.”

“You are not wrong.” He admits, palm reaching to cup the side of your face. “I cannot look at you as I once did, but as the woman I wish to spend the rest of my life with. As the woman who I shall love until my very last breath.”

Your eyes meet his, a sea of blue simply pouring with emotion. His eyes had always been so expressive, a window to his beautifully crafted soul. “Colin, I love you.” You whisper. 

His other hand comes to cup the untouched side of your face, leaning down to kiss you. It’s less sweet than your first – more passionate, more experienced than the last. You can feel the inner turmoil dissipate from your body and his as you embrace each other. 

Colin kisses you like you’re oxygen and he’s struggling to breathe. As if he needs you to keep him alive. He supposes that’s true: a life without you would not be a life worth living. 

Pulling away from him, your smile is unmatched. It’s like nothing Colin has ever seen before, and there’s a hint of something in it that he cannot read.

“What are you thinking?” He taps the side of your head jokingly, right where your temple rests.

You giggle lightly. “Benedict told me that no one could be right for me, except you.”

“Did he now?” Colin chuckles with you, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your hand. “And?”

Taking a moment to soak it all in before you respond, you grin: wide and proud.

“He was right.”

[foli-vora]

without you, part 2

matt murdock x f!reader

A/N: hey the title rhymes. Hi angels! Part 2 is finally here, by heavy demand! And uh... for those who thought I was gonna fix everything with this part?? No, I'm here to make it worse! Woo! (Don't hate me, I did warn you lmao). So, enjoy the angst! Hope it's worth the wait x

Summary: continuing on from Part 1 - You return after the ‘blip’. Five years is a long time, and a lot of things can happen in that time. Where does that leave you now?

Word count: somewhere in the 2.7k zone idk

Warnings: ANGST. Angst squared, if you will. Broken hearts everywhere. Broken hearted reader. Broken hearted Matty. A brief broken hearted Frank coming in for the rescue. Not a happy ending. Mentions of divorce and the religious thoughts surrounding that, the Blip and the devastation it would've caused, break ups, brief jealousy, heavy denial, anxiety, lots of crying and I just want to hold onto him forever & ever. This is unedited coz I'm lazy and like to just throw things out into the void and die like a warrior.

There’s a vicious, relentless pounding behind your temples when you finally begin to feel the darkness pulling at your mind recede. With the constant stab of pain, everything returns—the apparent lost time, the strange new world that had grown during your absence, the relationships that had also changed during those five years.

Five whole years.

It might as well have been an eternity.

Your whole life, everything you knew—gone. It doesn’t seem real, it’s just not possible, and yet here you are. Here you are in a world that still feels so familiar, and sickeningly not. Your thoughts are a vicious storm in your mind, merely intensifying the throb running along your forehead. Your system flutters between confusion, denial, mourning.

It’s enough to make you want to simply fall back into the blissful void of unconsciousness, until—

“Sweetheart?”

Matt. 

Your heart still jumps at his gentle rasp, a part of you longing to just soften into his hold and cling to him like you’d done so many times before, but you can’t. He’s not—he’s not your Matt. Not anymore. 

It’s hard to pull away from the fingers tracing your cheek, and when you open your eyes, they wince from the light shining through the large windows. He’s knelt on the floor beside you, a frown of concern creasing his brows as you slowly shift on weak limbs until you’re sitting upright on the leather.

You study his features through raw, hazy eyes, and it’s only now you notice the subtle changes you had missed upon your return to the apartment—the few more creases lining his face, the extra spatterings of grey strands amongst his dark tresses. His hair… it’s shorter too, now that you’re really looking. How had you not seen that? Not noticed?

Maybe it was the panic. It had to have been. You didn’t notice anything else when you ran in. Your surroundings had changed within a second, everything was all just so confusing and mad—you had just wanted him, you wanted home. Turns out, you had no home to return to. No one to return to. 

There must be so many others. The pain must be immense throughout the world. Lovers returning to mere memories. Parents returning to kids left behind, now years older and practically strangers. Children returning to homes that were no longer there, lost amongst the new world and without anyone familiar around them to find comfort in. God, they must be so scared.

Matt’s hand returns to your face, the backs of his fingers testing the feel of your forehead before ever so slowly trailing away until they rest where your pulse thrums through the skin of your throat. It’s not necessary—he’d hear it across town. Maybe he’s seeking physical reassurance that you’re really here, right in front of him.

“Talk to me,” he pleads quietly, “say something, anything.”

You find nothing worth speaking. You doubt you’d even have the strength to speak with how dry and heavy your tongue feels in your mouth. His hand moves, fingers hot on your skin as he cups the underside of your jaw and this time, you don’t quite have the strength to pull away.

All you want is this.

His touch, his presence—him.

“Sweetheart, I—” he stops, head tilting ever so slightly towards the door.

You watch him stiffen, tension rolling through his shoulders as he rises from his knelt position before turning towards the door to the apartment expectantly. It takes longer for your senses to catch up, but eventually the dull thud of boots hitting the flooring outside of the apartment hits your ears—

Frank.

Where was he through all of this? Had he been left to carry on with life, trying to make sense of a world left in ruin? Or had he been washed away with the breeze, just like half the planet? Universe? You want to ask Matt, but words seem to fade away on your tongue. 

He doesn’t bother knocking—he never has.

While there had been some stirrings of indifference between him and Matt after everything that happened, there was still a solid foundation of respect, which quickly extended to you the more you attempted to coax the beaten and bloodied man into your clutches for some much needed medical treatment. You were more than acquaintances, a little less than friends—just close enough for him to feel comfortable coming and going from the apartment should he have ever needed patching up.

“Apparently it’s been a while,” Frank mutters gruffly as a somewhat greeting once he’s stepped into the apartment, and you feel the same air of confusion and denial radiating from him.

He had been gone then, like you. How is he handling this? Does he feel as lost as you? As scared? You’d always thought him to be someone not exactly immune to the feeling, but at least stronger than others. As much as you feel for him, hurt for him, knowing exactly the type of thoughts and feelings that plague him, you find comfort in the fact that you weren’t alone in this.

Matt doesn’t respond, and Frank sighs tiredly, eyes flashing briefly to the side under his heavily bruised and swollen brow.

“I ain’t here to fight, Red.”

Matt’s tongue flicks over his lips and he gives a humourless huff, still not relaxing from his defensive stance. Maybe he was expecting Frank to be pissed and burst in like a raging bull with red in his vision, seeing as he and Karen had something brewing slowly between them all those years ago, but Frank doesn’t seem to be interested in any violence whatsoever.

You’re not even entirely sure what he’s here for.

“Well, Karen’s not here—”

“I know, she was with me,” Frank rumbles deeply, head tilting as he appraises Matt, “told me the happy news—congrats.”

It’s not insincere, but it’s damn near close. 

His gaze moves to you.

He studies the way you sit, drawn in on yourself and cuddling your chest in an effort to hold yourself together. You can feel how raw and swollen your eyes are, and when you finally manage to tiredly lift them to meet his, Frank seems to soften.

It’s only slight, imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know his mannerisms well, but you see it.

“I was thinkin’ you might need a place, after hearin’ about—” he swallows, jaw rolling ever so slightly. He exhales sharply and shifts on his feet, “You got anywhere to go?” 

He’s here for you?

Matt intervenes immediately. “She’s staying here, Frank—”

Staying here? In the apartment you used to live in? That he now lives in with another woman? Was his idea to leave you sleeping on the couch alone, while they sleep in your bed together? No, it’s not your bed anymore. It’s their bed. Their apartment.

Five years of Daredevil and regular concussions must’ve really killed some of his brain cells. Is he even still Daredevil? Maybe married life changed his perspective on his dangerous nightly habits. Maybe his perspective changed on a lot of things. Is he even the same Matt you had left behind?

Frank’s head tilts, his eyes narrowing into a scowl as they flick back to Matt. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t askin’ you—was I, Red?”

“No,” you finally rasp in reply to his earlier question before Matt could retort, voice rough and weak in your throat, “no, I don’t.”

He nods, expecting your answer. “You got a bag?”

“I don’t know if I have any things left,” you mutter, bitterly wondering where your belongings went. Storage? Donated? The trash? How long did they leave it, did Matt leave it before tossing it all away? Like you’d never even existed, like you’d never even mattered. “Do I have anything here, Matt?”

Matt baulks at the ice coating your tone, and it’s unfair. You know that. Deep down you know you’re being unfair, a part of your mind gently reminding you that you probably would’ve thought and done the same in his position should it have been reversed, but you don’t care.

The familiar bite of anger, pain, still stirs relentlessly in your system and it trumps all reason and logic.

You had a life, and now it’s in complete ruins.

What are you supposed to do with that?

Frank nods sagely, “We’ll get you some things, ain’t gotta worry about that. You comin’?”

As much as you want to reject the idea of leaving, as much as your heart screams at you to stay with Matt because he’s all you know, he’s all you have, and he was telling you how much he loved you only mere hours ago… you give a minimal nod, and shift to stand from the couch.

It wasn’t hours ago—it was five years.

Five years.

Matt instinctively steps in front of you to keep you from moving any further, his tongue darting across his lips in an apparent panic, “You’re going with him?”

“Can you give us a minute? I won’t be long,” you ask Frank quietly, aching at the way Matt’s anxiety seems to heighten at your words.

Frank gives a single nod, and then slips out, the door clicking quietly shut behind him. Matt ignores it, every sense focused in on you and the way your heart beats a broken rhythm in your chest, the way your nails pick at the cotton of your sleeves, the way fresh tears smell building on your lash line—

“I have nowhere else to go,” you mutter, body now numb to feeling and just utterly exhausted from the onslaught of emotions the day had thrust upon you. “I can’t stay here, Matt. I can’t. Seeing you two—God, it’ll kill me. I can’t do it.”

Why you? Why did it have to be you? 

A part of you wishes it would’ve been Karen in your place, uncaringly and unknowingly torn from her life to leave everything she ever loved behind, only to return to a world that had survived, that had moved on without her… and you don’t even have the energy to feel guilty for such a thought yet.

It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t even Matt’s.

“Sweetheart,” Matt pleads softly, hands seeking and taking your hands tightly, “just—just tell me what to do. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

The thought is immediate—would he leave her? Could you ask that of him? Could you expect him to just drop and abandon everything he’s built during your absence?

You want to.

You want to tell him to break it off with her as soon as physically possible, to kick her out so you could be at home where you’re comfortable and with him and just act like nothing happened—

—but you can’t.

You can’t bring yourself to say the words.

What would he think of you asking a question like that? Would he even do it? You know how he feels about divorce, what his religion thinks of divorce. His whole belief system, his life, his God… would he abandon it all for you?

Looking at him now, how he physically pleads with you with those soft, lost eyes looking for guidance, you believe that maybe, just maybe, he would. 

But you can’t ask that of him.

You could never, and would never, ask that of him.

Unless—

“Were you happy?” You ask softly, eyes bouncing between his where they rest just left of your face. 

He blinks, a slight frown forming between his eyes in an effort to make sense of your unexpected words, “What?”

“Before I—” you take a breath, tongue rolling along your lips to moisten the sudden dry skin, “—before I just materialised back onto the street… were you happy? With your life? With her?”

Without me?

Say no.

God, please say no.

You begin to wonder why you asked. Maybe you’re a glutton for punishment, maybe you think nothing could possibly hurt any more than it already does, but when his expression falters, when his mouth opens and nothing seems to make it past his lips, you know that’s not possible.

This… this seems to hit the hardest.

He was happy.

He was happy before you came back.

He was happy without you. 

And it’s… good.

It is.

Of course you don’t want him to be anything but that. He had found what he wanted from life—some normality, some peace, and it’s with that understanding that you realise you have no place here anymore. At least not with him. You have no part in his life now, and it shreds that last little untouched piece of your hopeful heart to absolute ruins.

Denial still pulls at your mind, still blatantly refuses to accept that five years had actually passed. You’d been nothing but a distant memory to him, to your friends, to the world, and yet, everything is still so vividly fresh for you. You only got out of bed, held him, kissed him, a few hours ago—a few fucking hours!

Five years.

“It’s okay,” you mutter, as his saddened eyes flutter in a panic, “I want that for you, Matt. I’ve always wanted that for you, even if that means I’m not—that we’re not—”

You ache at the thought of being apart from him, a feeling he had already experienced and endured. 

“Three years,” he says quietly, brokenly, a slow gathering of tears building along his lash line, “three years I searched, I waited, I prayed… if I had known—if I had known you… I wouldn’t have—”

—moved on. 

You envision Matt lost in the organised pews with dozens of other faceless mourners, on his knees and weeping into his closed hands, begging for the strength to finally let you go. He was granted it, after enduring agony for such a stretch of time, and now it’s all fallen to pieces at your return.

“It’s okay,” you repeat softly, the feeling of your heart beating in your throat choking the words, “it’s okay.”

“No,” he shakes his head, face creasing as the tears begin to make their way down his cheeks, “no, it’s not. I’ve only just gotten you back. You’re back, and now—now I—God. I can’t say goodbye. Not again. I can’t.”

“So don’t,” you say simply, a fresh build of your own tears streaking your cheeks, “we won’t say goodbye. Just… just forget. Forget I ever came back, Matt. Everything will be as it was.”

He recoils sharply, as if you physically struck him. “I can’t do that—”

“Yes, you can. You have to, we all have to.”

“No, I won’t—”

“You told me to tell you,” you croak weakly, the feel of his coarse stubble piercing the soft skin of your palm as you cradle his cheek, “you told me to tell you what to do, and that you’ll do it. Well, this is it, Matt. This is what I’m telling you to do—forget I ever came back. It’ll be easier for everyone. You can keep what you had—what you have, and I—”

And you?

What will you do?

Where will you go?

Your hand falls from his face, only for it to be snatched up and returned to its previous spot with his own pressed tightly against it to keep it there. His tears smear against your skin, the evidence of his heartbreak an obvious reminder that he never let go completely.

There’s something still held for you within him, it just wasn’t the same as when you left.

His forehead comes to rest against your own, and you weaken into the familiar comfort of his touch, just for a moment. You don’t want to let go, don’t even know if you can. There's nothing left to be said, nothing left to be worked out. This is just it.

Why does it have to be this way? Your stomach churns at the idea of walking out for good. How can you? Nothing has changed for you—everything you feel for him is right there, right there where it’s always been, and you can’t do anything with it.

You indulge in the moment a little longer, stretching out to softly press your lips to his with the bittersweet taste of a loving goodbye—one last time. You savour the feel of him, his lips, so warm, so soft and sweet and familiar—

—and then pull away, the air filling the space between you lingering with the memory of what could have been.

He lets your hand fall away this time, pained haunted eyes scrunching closed as you further the distance between you until you’re at the door to the apartment. The quiet exhale of a sob reaches your ears as you open the door, and you dare not look back at Matt falling apart as you close it softly behind you.

[sereh624]

reasons why redactedcouples break up 🥀

if this has been done before, just take this as my take on it ^_^ also this is unedited, so uh.. bare that in mind .. this is more of a ramble

sam & david ( pt . 1 )

david :

it was only a few months into the relationship before you started to crack. you'd thought of yourself as someone strong, someone who could take those little comments and brush them off, knowing your worth.

you were wrong.

little remarks david would make, the way he would snap at you, it began to wear at you and your surprisingly sensitive soul. deciding to respect yourself and leave before you broke for good, you moved out, the only trace of you a long letter confessing how you truly felt left on his coffee table.

david would spend the next few months after that reading that letter over and over again, analyzing ever word, wondering what had pushed you over the edge. at night, he'd stare at his ceiling, replaying every time he'd ever said something hurtful to you in his head and cursing himself for not seeing how it pained you sooner. why couldn't he just bite his tongue? how did he think it wouldn't kill you inside, to be chipped away at piece by piece by the one you lost most?

by morning, he would hate you. he'd hate you for not talking to him sooner, he'd hate you for the way you let him talk to you, he'd hate you for loving him anyway, and he hated you most of all for leaving, and proving him right. you were just another waste of time, put in his life to prove that he was destined to spend the rest of his alone.

sam :

how many times had you come home, arriving like a kicked puppy on his doorstep, a delirious smile on your face while you uncover the product of your latest brawl? too many times to count.

sam hated seeing you like this. he knew that every part of this hurt you, even if you absolutely refused to show it. your vulnerable, wounded body would always betray your numb facade.

sam also knew you'd never give it up. the enticing challenge of a threat, the extreme thrill of a fight, and the raw humiliation of defeat, always kept you crawling back for more, even when you definitely couldn't take it. people weren't always going to go easy on you.

one of these days, you're going to throw yourself into a wall and it won't be the thing that breaks. hehe

you two were getting older, despite sam's unchanging appearance, and so was this. it was becoming less of a concern and more of a nuiscance to deal with every time you came home injured with another bullshit excuse. how could you not see how this was hurting you? how this was hurting him? you weren't immortal, not yet, anyway, and your life was far too short to spend it only making it shorter.

eventually, sam realized it was either going to be keeping you dead or leaving and loving you alive. he couldn't be so selfish to choose the former. he loved you. he loved you more than anything else in the world and living in a world without you in it made the shithole he was already in a whole lot less appealing.

he'd much rather you lose him than lose yourself.

@skunkox @huxleaf @definitelynuwonhere

[ink-n-shadow]

more drunk reader and simon pls 🙈🙈

anything for you, cinnamon 🧎

so i present to you simon with clubber!reader

[ CLUB HOPPER ] 𝜗𝜚 the one where you love going clubbing and simon loves watching you dance

𝜗𝜚 pairing: simon "ghost" riley x clubber!afab!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: slight smut (minors—DNI), strangers being handsy with reader, maybe voyeurism? (if you consider simon watching you grind on other people voyeurism), alcohol consumption, mentions of unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it/get tapped), mentions of cream pie, unedited

simon absolutely hates going out unless it's with you. like the amount of times the guys have had to beg him just to go out to a dive bar with them. but the second it's you, all dressed up and pretty for him, pouting up at him and begging him to come out to the club with you, he's pulling on his work boots and driving you both to the club.

he doesn't even bat an eye when you immediately disappear amongst the club crowd, instead just moving towards his usual corner in the back and nursing a glass of whiskey as he watches you out on the dance floor. his jaw ticks at the way slimey assholes try to paw at your body, dirtied fingers trying to hook into the holes of your tattered outfit and slobbering tongues itching to taste the glittering sweat on your skin.

but simon trusts you—trusts you with his bloody life. so he simply sinks deeper into the plush leather of the club's back booth and finishes off his first round of whiskey, palming at the chub of his hardening cock as he watches you shove off the wandering hands and disappear deeper amongst the crowd of grinding bodies.

simon thinks you've never looked prettier than you do in this moment, hair mussed with sweat and glossed lips stretched into a rather demure smile as you lose yourself in whatever club mix is blasting through the speakers. sure, your lip gloss is slightly smeared and your mascara is beginning to bleed down beneath your bottom eyelashes, but you've never looked more alive, with liquid confidence coursing through your veins and a million other pairs of eyes locked on you.

and it goes on like this for another hour and a half, simon's hungry eyes slovenly following you around the club as you grind against sweaty strangers and down free shots from people who think they'll get lucky and take you home at the end of the night. simon can't help the shit-eating grin that curls up on the corners of his lips at the way you turn them down, holding up the glittering ring on your finger with a drunken smile.

you know it's time to go with your glossy eyes flutter open and find simon's steely ones in the back of the room, the slight twitch of his dirty blond brow a telltale signal to get your fuckin' ass back over here. so like the obedient pet you are, you scamper back up the club staircase to where simon hides in the back of the crowd, eagerly finding your place in his lap and nosing gently at his stubbly jaw.

“is it time t’go already?” you slur out a soft whine into simon’s ear as your arms loop around the back of his neck, molding your much smaller body against his muscled torso. “didn’t even get to request a song yet, si.”

simon's all huffs and muttered words as his large hands grip tightly at the fat of your hips, manhandling you until your clothed cunt is pressing down against his now fully hard cock and grinding you down against it in a slow, messy rhythm.

"y'feel that, pet?" simon snarls against your skin as his teeth sinks easily into your pulse point, sucking in rhythm with your heartbeat and making a fresh bruise bloom just beneath your jaw. " so either 'm throwin' you over my shoulder and fuckin' you raw in the backseat of the truck, or you can go up to the dj booth and request your song with my fuckin' cum runnin' down your thighs. pick your poison."

[citrustan]

i see u are taking drabble requests!! could i very gently very nicely ask to plz have a yoongi x reader drabble? it can be angsty fluffy or smutty i just rlly miss yoongi, aaand thank u in advance!!

thanks! i will choose all three (barely-there smut bec i just need to get comfortable w it through practice)

love-daze (myg)

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: unrequited love?, friends to ?

warnings: methinks this can be considered infidelity but not really?? as for the characters, all's open to interpretation. :p unedited. this is raw raw ok.

"Should I stop?" You whisper, unwrapping your arms from around him.

After a few beats, still zoned-out, Yoongi moans in disapproval, "No, keep going, this is fine."

He adjusts you on his lap and tilts his head back.

Still unsure, you go back to placing soft kisses all over his neck. Desperate to make Yoongi happy, you put a little more energy into it as you begin to gently grind on him.

Occasional whimpers and sighs float around the cold room. While that would seem to be enough to send you over the moon, it doesn't seem to help you this time.

"Yoongi..." You tiredly sigh.

You want to make Yoongi feel good, but at this point, you know he's too distracted.

Thinking of her.

And you find that unfair. He was the one who called you after all. Because he knew you'd always be around. Only for him.

You were never shy about your feelings for Yoongi, so when you couldn't get him to reciprocate romantically, you figured you'd give it a shot anyway and offered yourself for him to use whenever he wanted, for whatever he wanted.

Yoongi was intrigued.

He seemingly never did end up needing you though.

Until now.

Two hours ago, Yoongi came over to tell you how his girlfriend had turned down his marriage proposal a few days ago.

One hour ago, you tried to talk him into giving her more space.

Thirty minutes ago, he ended up calling her anyway, which in turn made her distance herself even more, telling him to not call her again.

And now, Yoongi has you naked, on his lap, trying to make himself forget about everything--- his girlfriend, her rejection, his humiliation, their sadness... just all of it.

Yoongi wanted to hurt her, too. His own pleasure is just a bonus. He knew that if she ever caught wind of you and him, it'd destroy her.

For some reason unknown to Yoongi (and you), Sera always had been insecure about you. Not that Yoongi gave her any reason to be, even offering to seize all contact with you.

You had cried for days when you accidentally heard about it through one of your mutuals. Yet, you understood, and continued to love him silently while distancing yourself from the couple.

Yes, you loved him but you would never try to steal his happiness away or break up a relationship.

Both Sera and Yoongi noticed the lack of your presence in their lives.

During that short period, she also observed how Yoongi seemed moodier and a little more disengaged in general.

For a while, Sera thought she might've just been a masochist or something because what other reason did she have to refuse Yoongi's offer?

She felt guilty because she didn't want to be the kind of woman who stopped her faithful boyfriend from having friends. She felt guilty because she had always known about your interest in him but had decided to pursue him anyway.

She felt guilty when she saw the look on your face when she was first introduced as Yoongi's girlfriend. She remembers how defeated and sad you were. One would expect jealousy, or anger, or even hatred, but you were always cordial with her.

She felt guilty when he asked her her hand in marriage because it came out of nowhere, and she knew it was Yoongi's attempt to salvage what was left of them.

It's probably karma, she thinks. Sera felt like an intruder in your lives even though she was the girlfriend. Even though Yoongi never really looked at you in a way she would be worried about, she just... felt something.

Which is why Sera isn't surprised to see Yoongi at your place now. She saw it on your Instagram story, but it was deleted almost immediately.

She doesn't know why Yoongi never let you in, and selfishly hadn't cared.

All she could do now was watch the man she loves be with someone else. As you had done.

Yoongi finally looks you in the eye, expectantly, brows somewhat raised.

Again, you ask, "Are you really, really sure you want this?"

Yoongi sees the loving look on your face and his breath hitches. You didn't deserve this.

The long pause answered all your questions.

You don't know why you're disappointed, you had offered yourself to him. It was your choice.

Sadly, giving him a tight-lipped smile, you sigh.

Before you could speak, he tilts your head towards his own, making your foreheads touch.

You gulp, afraid of what he might say.

With a shaky voice, he rubs his thumb on your cheek, "I'm sorry." - "For what?"

"_____, you deserve to be treated with respect. And, I'm sorry I failed to."

"Yoongi... I'm not offended... I told you, I'm okay with this." You pout, confused.

"Exactly. You shouldn't be. I won't take advantage of you like this." Yoongi is stern. Mostly speaking to himself.

But you don't care, "What if I want to be taken advantage of?"

"_____..." He's breathless.

"Yoonie... I can feel you. I want to be used. I want you so bad. I always have." You resume grinding on him, "You want me so bad. I know you care about me, Yoonie."

He firmly places his hands on your waist. You expect him to grab your cute butt, but instead, he holds you in place, "_____. Not like this. We're too... vulnerable. This is new. Let's not rush into anything."

At that, you instantly snap out of your love-daze.

What did he mean by 'this'? Let's not rush into 'anything'?

Your face was expressive, making him smile a little. You then lift yourself off of him.

Yoongi's forcing himself not to ogle your tits or the string of your sticky wetness detaching from his trousers as you moved to sit next to him.

The two of you have a lot to heal through.

Yoongi stood up from your couch to retrieve your crocheted throw which he then uses to swaddle you. You stare up at him with big eyes as he wrapped the material around you, making him playfully scoff.

Yoongi kneels in front of you, "I don't know how to thank you for being there for me, _____." He has a solemn face.

Meekly, you suggest, "We can just... talk if you'd like."

Placing a hand atop your own, he softly smiles, "I'd love that, _____."

note: ok like ack-chu-ally idk what this turned into i just wanted to write like a 100 word thing about reader patiently waiting for yoongi to realise his feelings for her

But I Just Couldn't STop going on and im curious to see the response to this because I think I hate it kinda

[lanadelreyvisualaesthetics]

Unedited raw footage of Lana's birdcage monologue, for Coachella week two. 🌴

Wild woman archetype: there’s usually tremendous suffering involved in the human life, in the human woman who stands in front of this particular archetype. They’re trained to remain contained. To never really spread their wings, and especially never to find those who are like themselves. That was considered very very dangerous. The domestication of the wild continued so young females are taught to not like spit and moistness and sweat and other effluvia, and out of the many possibilities of what it means to be female, only two aspects were given weight. It is sweet mother who always takes care and shows concern for everything and everybody and the know-nothing maiden who’s always sweet, cute and innocent. Which leaves out the whole instinctual and animal nature of a woman. Yet by the time most women who are raised as captive creatures, by the time they were teenagers, they were exposed to art cinema. They were exposed to Latin poets. They were exposed to things and ideas and often lovers even who ask them to please be a full person. So the veils that were laid down to keep the girls separate from their animal nature - well sometimes they were torn and certainly wavered on young women of that time was slipping away because the sensuality of those women, which is not only sexual but also creative, was calling to them more and more strongly all the time. And the “thou shalt nots” were as much a part of the cage that they had experienced as their familial injunctions were. So many many women during that time, not just in America, but in Europe as well, threw over the old order, said “no, I won’t be caged anymore, I want to be free!” And they went out for the first time in their lives and into the world.”

[hectorthedoggo]

aight i really don't feel like editing today so i'm just gonna give the unedited enyu thing for y'all :)

Tw: horror imagery

The warden took a swig from their glass of water, and turned their eyes back to their work, ignoring the slightly throbbing headache. It doesn’t matter.

Last time we went to get our daily check-up, Shidou told us to sleep, as we hadn’t slept in… a day? Yeah, that was a day ago. Hm… I don’t think that’s healthy. That was, what, yesterday? Hm…

They had whittled the two days away, only going for occasional breaks; they had requested more work, so they could be kept busy.

They had tried to sleep once in that period of time, and that hadn’t ended well.

Their rest probably lasted around 10 minutes, before they were promptly woken up by a nightmare. No way we should let that happen.

Jackalope didn’t seem opposed to the idea, as it would let him have less work. It was a win-win situation, because the more work they had, the less thinking they had to do.

However, the urge for sleep was pulling on them desperately. They didn’t remember the last time they sleep.

I suppose that I must, lest I randomly pass out. Again.

They sat up from the couch, setting their clipboard next to them.

They walked robotically to the bed, sloppily getting ready for bed and tucking themself under the sheets.

They decidedly didn’t look at the mirror while doing that, of course. We’re not an idiot.

They closed their eyes, but didn’t immediately fall asleep. It was ironic that they would be so tired yet not able to go to sleep.

They attempted sleep anyway.

That was idiotic of them.

After an indeterminable amount of time, they opened their eyes in their darkened room.

A feeling they were being watched clutched at their throat. No, that’s silly. Who would do that? Besides, we locked the door. There’s nobody in here, I’m- we’re just being paranoid.

However, out of some sort of twisted curiosity, they moved their eyes away from the ceiling.. 

A large black shape was in the middle of the room, slightly swaying.

They tried to get up, but couldn’t. Their body was immobilized by something. That shape wasn’t there before, oh god-

It started to float towards them, and it felt like their point of view shifted up. It slowly inched across the ground, two hanging limbs dragging across the ground.

Those are… those are feet, right?

They looked up, and a chunk of tangled golden-brown hair came from the head of the entity. It came to their bedside, and towered over them in the bed.

A cold sweat ran down their face, and they started to shiver. What? That’s-

Mahiru giggled, and they heard it. It was real.

But, she’s not alive, there’s no way this could be real.

Her hanging body resembled that of her boyfriends; an image subconsciously gifted to them by her MV.

A pale, ghostly hand reached toward their face, brushing their cheek. It felt so, so real.

They looked around the room, trying to find any way out, and ‘she’ started to hum her song. But, it was distorted, off key, and they started to try to cry.

It was a combination of fear and grief, but they couldn’t sob. They could never let it out, simply shaking and feeling the soft whisper of skin against their cheek.

Eventually, the sensation of the hand faded, and they woke with a start.

The first thing they did was scamper from under the bedsheet, as if it was the perpetrators of their distress.

They clutched their knees, and started to weakly sob. They didn’t have the energy or hydration, but they did have the raw emotion.

Oh god, and she seemed happy. That version of Mahiru was happy.

Right before she died, she was injured, and unhappy. She was faking happiness. I put her in such a state that she wanted this release. It’s my fault.

They clutched a pillow, and it simply deflated. I- I can’t do this anymore, but I can’t die.

I’m not going back to sleep. I’m not going back to sleep. I don’t want to see her again.

It’s all my fault.

It was dead quiet, excluding their own pathetic noises of fear and grief. They were so, so tired, but couldn’t go back to sleep.

They stared at some of the unfinished paperwork on the table. I’m having trouble thinking right now, but if I go back to sleep…

They let out another weak sob. I really don’t want to work… We’ve done that all day. But we should, shouldn’t we? It would take the pain away.

They kept clutching onto the pillow, but started to reassure themself of their authority, that it was all going to be okay, but it didn’t work.

The fear that Mahiru would pop up again, the monster would stare at them, remind them of their guilt. Why do I even see her as a monster? That’s horrible.

She just wanted to love people, and look at what we did to her.

The warden heard light footsteps, and hoped that whoever it was would open the door, check on them.

However, that hope was mixed with fear. But, we can’t let people see us like this. I-

They couldn’t repress their tears; not when there were so many. But, they did try to quiet them the best they could. It didn’t work; the attempt was half-hearted.

It was like a cry for help.

The footsteps stopped in front of their door.

Please. Please. But, they couldn’t directly admit it to themself.

They were relieved when they heard a knock on the door, and soon, an inquisitive head popped in. It’s Kotoko.

She’s going to see me like this. I’m not sure how to feel about this.

This is shameful. We can’t be doing this?

But, what do we have to lose? It feels like we won’t survive this any longer. We can’t.

That shut the warden up.

Will she protect me? She’s good with that, but my verdict’s ruined it all, as always.

She slowly stepped closer to them, but they didn’t protest. They were like an injured animal, though untrusting, had to rely on whoever’s around, no matter how they felt about that person.

They were somewhere else, staring at the spot where Mahiru appeared. Will she appear now? Kotoko will abandon me. Maybe she’s just here to admonish me or something.

I would deserve that. But, can the monster appear if she’s here? Am I at least slightly safer in her presence?

She approached their shaking form.

“How does this keep happening to you? Es, you should understand that you can’t keep this up.”

They shook their head, weak voice punctured by their gasping sobs, “But… Mahiru… she’ll come if I… if we try to… I can’t, I-”

The warden decided to stop their speaking before they revealed more weakness.

Kotoko stood over their curled-up, vulnerable form, eyes widened in a mix of anxiety and despair. The walls started to grow eyes, and they further curled into themself. “She, she’s, they’re all…”

Their cries came to be unapologetically louder than necessary, but she still didn’t save them.

Eventually, she overcame some of her own mental barriers, and scraped them off of their place of terror, up into her arms.

It was almost too easy, and they relaxed. She’ll protect me better than we can protect ourself.

She looked down on them. “Why did you do that?”

They passively looked at nothing, cries quieted now that they were safe. “We… we had to work.”

“That’s not helping anything, or anyone. You won’t be rational enough to decide life-changing verdicts. Idiot…”

Es looked ahead, at the eyes that watched them in the walls. 

“If we do the work, the more time we do it the better. I don’t have to feel anything when I’m working. Besides, I’m not… I’m not the one that chooses the verdicts, anyways. We-, no, I don’t matter.” Their speech and filter were slurred on their tiredness.

Sleep started to overtake them. I don’t care if this is Kotoko, I’d rather pass out here than on the floor.

She tried to lightly shake them awake, but it was futile. “Wait, the verdicts what?”

They lost consciousness, finally not worrying about working.

I guess she knows now.

I’m not sure how we’re supposed to feel about that.

-

When the warden woke up, they were, of course, back in Shidou’s room. Why do we keep ending up here? This is bothersome, and-

They tried to get up, hazily registering their surroundings, but was stopped. They scowled at the offender, Kotoko, again.

She pushed them, slightly roughly, back down. They tried to resist, but she held them still.

“Es, stop that. You’re only going to hurt yourself more.”

They kept their angry face on, but blocked the light from reaching their tired eyes. This is humiliating. Why is she treating me like a child that can’t take care of themself?

We’re perfectly fine.

Another voice, Shidou Kirisaki, chimed in from the background. His voice sounded a little choked up. “You’re really worrying us, Es. I- please stop doing this.”

Why would they be worried? “Why?”

“Why, what?” Kotoko’s stricter tone of voice.

“Why do you even care? What we do is none of your business. Again, I’m the warden, you’re the prisoners, there’s no reason for this irrational behavior.”

That left the adults in silence, and they let their pounding head adjust to the light the best it could.

They stared over at the two adults, who seemed like an unlikely duo. Didn’t they hate each other last time we checked?

Well, I suppose the verdicts might have changed things. Maybe Kotoko has lost her big ego, good.

Kotoko looked like a mess, her usual hair slightly out of place, and restraints all messed up. Shidou, despite his innocent verdict, looked even more pathetic.

His eyes were puffy from crying, something the warden hadn’t seen much of, other than that one time. Ah, those tears are for Mahiru. That’s right.

The air was thick with tension. Shidou broke the silence. “Es, we care about you.”

That is an outright lie. Does he really care about ‘me’? Or his kids. “No, you don’t. Why would you? All I do is boss you around.”

Kotoko sighed. “Es. Listen. I understand where you’re coming from; I used to be like this, but it didn’t work out for me, you should know. 

I wouldn’t want to lose you as a warden, despite- no, um, you’re an adequate warden. Your faith for your… cause, is admirable. I… I guess I don’t want to lose you.”

It must have taken a lot out of her to say that. Some of that seemed genuine, but…

The warden flicked their eyes over her vulnerable self, trying to justify her actions. Wait… The girl in her MV… Ah! I get it now. She just sees me as a weakling, a damsel in distress, out of her childish belief. That’s why she’s caring about me.

To her, we’re something to protect, out of a complex to make her feel better about herself. There’s no way she’d actually care for us. We can’t listen to her and feel vulnerable.

We were so pathetic last night. “I’m not falling for such a fragile pretense, Kotoko. You just see me like a weakling, like that girl, Keiko, was it? You’re no different than that man.”

They pointed at Shidou, who stared at them with a little heartbreak in his unc

This got straight to her heart, and she clenched her fist. “Stop that. That doesn’t matter. Caring about you aside, what about caring about your integrity as warden?”

This caught them off guard, as she brought up their own vulnerability, ignoring them. She’s bringing up the warden thing now. Are we going to survive this without having a mental breakdown?

That didn’t happen last time.

Yes, yes, we got this. Just ignore her words.

“You can’t be a good warden if you keep passing out like that. Even I slept when I was on the hunt; and I wasn’t the epitome of health. Shidou, you’re the health expert here.”

He cleared his throat. Are we just going to get scolded like this? “Alright, you’re 15, right?”

No response. Shidou continued on anyways. “I know full well you haven’t gotten nearly enough sleep in a while. Adults, yes, adults, can barely function on the amount of sleep you’ve been getting. And, you’re not even an adult.”

He shook his head, sighing. “You’ll do your work much faster on the highly recommended 8-10 hours.”

The warden detested this feeling, of being held down for something they knew full well was their fault, so they tried to avoid it. “I-”

Kotoko came to their defense, but also interrupted them, “In their defense… I don’t think their lack of sleep was fully their fault.”

Shidou turned to her, like a parent getting his authority questioned.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you were having nightmares, right?” Her tone was almost accusatory. This woman…

They stared between her and Shidou, classifying her as ‘insufferable’, the category in which Shidou and Amane already had an annual membership to.

Shidou’s anger melted, which was way worse than his previous anger. “Right… don’t you have to watch murder happen in front of your eyes? I mean, that would be nightmare material for anyone…”

The warden had no sensible defense for that, so they simply sat up while Kotoko was too off-guard to push them down and bunched themself together. “I don’t think that that’s any of your concern.”

“If that’s affecting your sleep quality, a small dose of sleep medication will really help, but… No, I suppose that the situation calls for it.”

I- no, we can’t accept anything non-essential from this man.

We’re losing ourself. We really need to get more sleep, but…

This is self-contradictory. How are we going to get out of this one?

The stress of the situation was unmanageable. But, I can’t rely on anyone. But, I’ll have to rely on someone if I can’t sleep.

Okay, but we can’t cry, too. It’s just what we have to do.

This is so stressful.

They teared up, despite their best wishes. We- I can’t do this anymore.

They started to sniffle, but couldn’t exactly stop their tears. They’re going to see us during the interrogation, and this is all they’re going to think about.

We’re so pathetic, Milgram should just replace-

No, no, what am I thinking? I- we can’t do any of that. We can’t think like that. We are no use to Milgram dead.

Surely if Milgram didn’t want us, they could just get rid of us. Like they did Mahiru’s body.

Her body was never in the garbage, so where else could she have gone.

So, Milgram must care somewhat for me. We’re useful.

No reason to be crying. We’re alright.

Shidou reached out to them, trying to pat them on the shoulder, and they slapped it, as harshly as it could. “Get away from us.”

The cycle restarted.

But, they couldn’t exactly leave. So, they simply hissed threats under their breath, to try their best to get the two interferences away from them.

They’re the causes of this inept weakness.

Kotoko sighed. “Jeez. Listen, we’re not going anywhere, and you can’t even do any lasting damage to us; calm down.” A little bit of bitterness slipped into her voice.

Shidou shook his head, trying to gently approach them, to wipe their tears. They hit him away, truly set off.

Their eyes drooped, but they forced them open. We’re in danger right now. These are murderers.

Though, they did know, deep down, we’re the only danger here, to ourself.

“Es, please, we can’t keep doing this.”

I’m the warden. We’re the warden. We’re the warden. “We’re the warden.” It was a hoarse whisper.

“Christ, they’re insane.” Kotoko looked mildly horrified. “This isn’t Es, isn’t it?”

The two adults stood on opposite sides of their bed, within hitting range, but their reactions were delayed.

The walls began to grow eyes, due to their sleep deprivation. They stared back, as if challenging the audience to question their authority.

The eyes started to close. They’re scared of me, aren’t they? They don’t like me, don’t they? 

Will they stop watching now? If they don’t like us, we’ll be rejected as well.

Are we interesting? Are we good entertainment?

That’s our purpose, as the prison warden of Milgram.

They shoved and beat down their last shards of discontentment.

a/n: they literally can’t act tough anymore they’re so sleep deprived 💀#get this kid some therapy that’s not two adults with savior complexes PLEASE-

(@kani-miso)

[logical-grave]

✧ Pretty Little Thing Ch.1 ✧

♡ Pairing ♡ - Rafe Cameron x Plus Size!Reader

♡ Warnings ♡ - Smut, Oral (f receiving), dirty talk, derogatory names, free use kink, Unprotected sex, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, mean!Rafe, some praise kink, mentions of blood, and unedited mistakes.

♡ A/N ♡ - This is so self-indulgent, it's not even funny. I swear I blacked out writing this. Anyway, Pls enjoy

♡ Word count ♡ - 2.5k

I tapped the top of his forehead, heavy breaths constricting my words as I attempted to form them. My brain felt comparable to mush, but I simply couldn’t take it anymore. He lifted his head up, his pupils blown wide, the familiar green now a simple ring around a black abyss. His nose, mouth, and essentially the entire lower half of his face glistened with a mixture of my slick and his spit in the soft glow of the lamp on my side table. He looked depraved and the only thing satiating him was between my legs, since his incessant need to see how many times I could come needed to be answered. It was three to be exact and each one more drawn out than the one before as I have now reached the limit one could handle the blissful feeling. 

“I- can’t, Rafe. I can’t-” I breathed out with each word, the overstimulation thwarting my ability to form a proper sentence. I looked down at my thighs that he gripped with such fervor in his time between them and sure enough bruises littered my skin. I couldn’t complain, purely due to the fact that they were developed from a place of pleasurable pain. Rafe blew out a sharp breath from his nose, a look of frustration taking over his cold features. I wanted to reach and caress his face, my hand even itching to do so, yet I refrained from the intimate action.

It wasn’t much earlier he was furiously banging on my window, and out of fear of him shattering the glass and waking up the other members of my family at three in the morning, I had allowed him in. He didn’t even waste a breath of explaining the blood on his shirt, or the raw skin of his knuckles. He simply used his stance and intimidation to coerce me into stepping back until the back of my legs had hit the end of my bed, the cool comforter contrasting the heat that began to inflame my skin. He simply pushed on my shoulder, enough to make me understand he wanted me on the bed, presumably to open my mouth and satisfy him. Yet, he surprised me by pushing my shoulder further until my back was reclined against the comfort of my bed. I had propped myself up on my elbows in time to see his large frame kneel before me and hook the thigh of my leg over his shoulder. I blush even now as I reminisce the sound of my panties tearing, since they seemed to pose an impediment to his intention between my legs. The ripped fabric now disregarded behind him, and he began before I could wonder why he was so reluctant to speak a word.

Rafe now pushed my leg off his shoulder, the weight of it hitting the floor sounding a thump against the wood floor under us. He stood to his full height, beginning to unbutton his shirt, the blood splattered across it registering in my mind again. He stepped towards my bathroom, turning on the light and looking over himself. He washed his hands after scanning his own frame, making sure there were no open wounds and such. I sighed and stood up, gripping the post of my bed frame as the sudden feeling of my legs shaking and not being able to hold all of my weight yet. I fell back onto the bed, my legs still shaking, and I looked over at Rafe. “Can you bring me a hand towel please?” I requested, bold in doing so since he seemed as if the last thing he wanted was to be fetching me things. He tossed me the hand towel on the counter of the bathroom sink and I used it to wipe down between my legs and inner thighs. I conjured enough strength to stand up, the shake of my legs down to a minimum now as I made my way towards my bathroom.

I watched as he squeezed a hand towel that he had used to wipe himself down, the water he wrung from it tinted red. He winced lightly as he wiped his knuckles down, looking at his hands with a face of disappointment. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” My voice was soft and low when I asked the question. I leaned on the door frame, looking up at him as he continued, shaking his head before looking at me. “No, I don’t want to talk. I just want to sleep. Can I do that without you asking me fifty fucking questions?” His jaw ticked, his eyes cutting into me deeper than his words. I let out a low breath as I nodded, pushing off the door frame and positioning myself into bed. I turned off the light coming from the lamp beside me, tucking myself into my comforter. He wasn’t far behind me, turning the light off in the bathroom as well before discarding his khakis with his shirt, dressed only in his boxers. He was an Adonis, I could admit, but never to his face.

Rafe climbed into the other side of the bed, under the comforter, and I was immediately greeted with his body heat. He reached his arms out, wrapping an arm around my waist, pulling me into him as he met me halfway. He folded his other arm under my head, acting it as a pillow and inhaling my scent from behind me. I adjusted myself, reluctant to relax against him. He seemed to notice, deciding to pull me in more, his hand moving to cup my breast and placing a small chaste kiss on the back of my neck. “Don’t do that.” I muttered, squirming slightly to drive my point. Rafe didn’t seem to like the bite back I gave, but he let it go.

I’m not sure what exactly prompted me to agree to our relationship. It was formed organically, I’ll admit. It was conjured one night about six months ago, the two of us finding solace in each other after sharing a bottle of whiskey and ended up entangled in his sheets. After that, we started using each other more than we anticipated and decided to clarify the boundaries of our relationship. It was simple, I was to present myself to him whenever he wanted, establishing a free use aspect and in exchange, I received weekly deposits into my account for a thousand dollars. After the first couple of times, Rafes respect for me slowly diminished, and I didn’t blame him. But I needed the money, and I wasn’t going to bite back and lose out of the only thing that’s aiding me in getting out of this hellhole one day. 

-

The next day, when the sun graced my eyes, I felt the secure arms of Rafe still surrounding me, alarm instantly shooting through me. “Rafe.” I called, patting his arms and attempting to pull on his wrists to release me, yet his grip seemed to tighten. “Rafe, wake up.” I nudged my elbow into his side and that seemed to wake him. Immediately, he released his hold on me, blinking rapidly as he looked around my room as if it was unfamiliar. “What time is it?” He asked in a groggy voice and I took in his state of disheveled hair, a flushed face due to warmth and the sun catching the gorgeous green of his eyes. I looked at my phone screen. “It’s 8:45. My shift at the country club starts at 9:15.” I urged, moving out of my bed, rushing to discard my sleepwear. I pulled open my dresser, pulling out my assigned polo and a white pleated skirt. Apparently, the uniform is appealing to golfers according to my managers when I requested to wear something with more coverage.

I looked over my shoulder at Rafe, seeing that he hasn’t made any haste to dress himself. I walked to him as I put on my polo and stood at his bedside with my hands on my hips. “Rafe, I really need to leave, and you can’t stay here. I’m kicking you out.” The angry expression on my face and my point to my window he had entered through not even six hours earlier seemed rude, but I wasn’t going to take any of his shit this early. I was only met with a smirk on his face as he removed one of his hands from behind his head and flipped back my comforter, uncovering his morning wood. “No, I’ll be late.” I rolled my eyes at his suggestion, stalking to the other side of my room to put on panties and my skirt. “It wasn’t a request.” He said as he rose from my bed, striding over to me. His hand was on his cock over his boxers, smoothing over it to entice himself. 

He was right, I technically couldn’t say no, that was our agreement. Rafe turned me around, his large hands holding my hips as he brought them back so he could grind on my ass. He made a sharp intake, leaning forward and placing a small kiss on my shoulder, my hands holding onto his wrists on either side of me. “Please be quick.” I pouted as he walked us over to my bed, his large hand splayed out on my back and pushed me down into the mattress to bend over for him. I blushed at the small feeling of a wetness growing between my thighs, and I planted my face in the mattress as I let him have his way with me. I could feel him drawing out this sudden need for me as he slowly pulled down my panties. “These are starting to get in my way. You’re not wearing them anymore after today, understood?” He asked and I nodded. Rafe caught me off guard, spanking my ass cheek and gripping the flesh harshly as I yelped out. “Understood?” He repeated. “Yes, I understand.”

He flipped up my skirt, kneading the flesh of my ass in his hands, his favorite part of my body. He’s never confessed this to me, but he always played with me before inserting himself, so I deduced. I looked over my shoulder at him and watched as he licked his fingers to abruptly insert in me, yet a devilish grin overcame his face. “You’re already so fucking wet for me.” He teased as he lined himself up with my entrance before sinking into me until he couldn’t further. We both moan at the familiar and exciting feeling, one that I wouldn’t care to admit. “Rafe, just fuck me already.” I was beginning to get impatient and not due to my lack of punctuality when it came to my job but because each time he entered me, I found myself wanting it more and more. He let out a low chuckle, taking himself out and resting himself between my ass cheeks, pushing them together to create friction as he dragged himself back and forth. 

“I’ll take my sweet fucking time with you.” He spoke, and I let out a gasp as he reached and gripped my hair, pulling on it, and I let out a wince. Rafe entered me again, before pulling himself out slowly and rutting back into me. I moaned at each thrust, the slap of his hips hitting my ass sounding along with my whimpers. I gripped the sheets of my bed, moaning as he pulled on my hair, my neck craning back. His pace picked up, his hand letting go of my hair and placing both hands on my hips, pushing me forward just to pull me back harder. “Rafe, I can’t.” I whimpered, a mix of pleasure and pain conjuring with each of his thrusts, Rafe reached and hooked his hand under my knee, resting it on the bed. It seemed to open me up, allowing him to glide in and out of me with ease and giving me a sense of relief. 

“Shut up, you fucking slut.” Rafe spit out, spanking my ass. He liked degrading me, sure to remind me of my lack of self-respect since I let him fuck me whenever he likes. Worst part, It kills me that I wasn't repulsed by it, almost welcoming it. Rafe moaned, his thrusts becoming more powerful, signifying he was close to cumming. I reach behind me and grip Rafe’s wrist, silently telling him to calm down, but it doesn’t leave my lips, the pleasure blurring any words that I attempt to speak. “You take my cock so well.” He groaned, digging his fingers into my hips as he fucked me with slow, languid strokes, adding to my torment. I looked at the wall opposite of my bed where my dresser sits, and a large mirror hung above it. I can see Rafe taking his time, watching his cock disappear inside me before pulling out and inserting himself back in. “Rafe, please.” I mewl, watching him in the mirror, almost entranced by the view in front of him. Something clicked, and he continued his pounding, his hips moving faster as they smacked against my own. 

Then, I felt the familiar throb of Rafes cock, followed by a string of moans as he releases inside me, filling me up with his cum. I sag against the bed, dropping the leg he had hiked up for better access. Rafe pants behind me, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he smacks my ass once more. “Fuck, that doesn’t get old. It’s like you get tighter every time.” Rafe pulled out, my walls clenching around nothing as his cum dripped out of me and I immediately crossed my ankles, hopefully holding it in long enough for me to saunter to the bathroom to clean up. 

I push off the bed, but I’m stopped before I make any progress, Rafes hand pressing me down on the bed. “What’re yo-” I’m interrupted by a gasp I let out as I feel the fabric of a towel being wiped over my thighs. I look over at the mirror once more and to my surprise, Rafe is cleaning me up. He never has in all of our times together, usually worrying about himself and not even considering me. There were times he’d finish in me, tuck himself away and leave before I could even blink. “Thank you.” I muttered, standing upright when he finished cleaning me up. I pulled up my panties as Rafe got dressed, lacing up my shoes as well. “I’ll take you to work.” He said, putting on his shirt, and I shook my head. “No, it’s fine, I’ll grab a ride from my br-” 

“I’m taking you to work.” He repeats himself, his look stern, and I simply nod in response. Before I could put up any more protest, he made his way out of my window, likely to start his truck up before I made it downstairs. 

Whoever this new Rafe was, he was starting to grow on me.

-

Hope you guys liked it!! and lmk what you think of the new format with the small lettering :)

[vampirememory]

pick a pile || future spouse/lover letter!

I am someone personally who tends to find comfort in these types of readings, so I hope someone here can find the same comfort.

Keep in mind that I am still a beginner, not even quite sure if I have abilities, so I will say that this is mostly for entertainment only, but if it resonates with you, it resonates.

I will be using tarot as a guide and leave the rest for whatever is told to me. Keep in mind I won't be editing the written portions, just the portions that I write myself from my intuition and the cards, everything else is raw and unedited.

pick a pile! webkinz dog inspired <3

masterlist

Pile 1

Wow, they have a lot to say I think.

"Hello, dear (a faint chuckling in the background),

my sweetheart, my beloved. My beloved, I can see you, you are not too far away. Do you miss me? I hope you do, I miss you, I miss you the most. How are you? fine? I'm glad of it. You are stronger than you think, you know, that is why i love and adore you. five years ago, I never thought I would meet someone like you, and here we are today. finally you are here, with me, in my arms, something i never expected to be saying. finally finally finally. there's something about you- there's so much about you that i adore. i cant approach you yet. look at you in your elegance, absolutely a marvel and me? i am just a peasant boy, waking and quaking in your presence. will you do me a favor? don't let someone else sweep you off your feet just yet, i promise that when i get my confidence up and my ducks in a row, marbles in a bunch. it will be soon! I promise. i promise i promise i promise, for your sake and mine we need to meet soon! maybe i hope so, I'm not sure.

anyways i do love you, see you soon.

yours forever. "

I believe that this is from their future self. They are fiery and loving and they love you so much. They may be very nervous in your presence but they want you to know that YOU and only you cause that nervousness, it's like they are a shipwreck when they are around you. You give them anxiety and butterflies! They give off very anxious energy, they just want to keep repeating how much they love you. They'll shake your whole body and shout it from the rooftops and the tops of mountains, only you do this to them. They love you they love you they love you, they really do. I have a feeling that they don't express this verbally but they think it so much and they don't want you to doubt their appreciation.

pile 2

I had to do pile 3 before this one.

"Hi baby <3

My adoration, a mirage of all things beautiful and concrete. Except you're real of course! My beloved baby, how are you? Dazzling, as always. A fortress that cannot be torn down, stopped, or blocked, an absolute unit! (laughter here) I love you, you know? You're funny as hell and I'm glad to be with you. My every wish was granted, would you look at that? I guess the universe really is some unstoppable force, except when it comes to you, it bends for you I guess, like you've got some magic powers? But nothing will stop how I feel for you. You are mine. Alllll mine (hearing Stingy saying "mine mine mine"). Sorry I'm clingy, you know I am though and sometimes you tell me that I need to let go a little bit, which is okay, I can give you a little space sometimes, but I'm still stuck to you like a leech, head over heels! My final resting place will be just in your arms, perfect just how I wanted. God, this is like a school essay. Sorry, this is supposed to be romantic, but maybe it can be funny too? I don't know, sorry, I'm being stupid & silly with you but I think you don't care so it doesn't matter anyway. We are so different but we are so good together yk? Two peas of a pod...except maybe we are two different peas, maybe I'm spike-y, lol! Or no, you're probably the spike-y one, okay I'll stop. But my lovely, I'm glad to talk to you. You're such a good friend to me, how do you put up with me? I'll never know, I can barely put up with myself. Have you ever heard that humans think they're ugly because they get used to themselves and their faces? Maybe that is me, maybe I'm just insecure and you see something magical in me, just like I see it in you. Maybe you feel the same way about yourself and you don't tell me, which makes me sad, but you know you can tell me and I wont push it. I love you ok? stay hydrated and things, do the work, have fun, live your life, whatever bye.

okay i'll give you a proper goodbye, a hug and a kiss on the cheek, a proper smooch maybe? no? okay fine. bye my love, see you in the afterlife... JK!!!! I'm not dead hehe>>, okay sorry bye. nonon wait, okay never mind yeah I'm done now, bye." *phone click*

They have a hard time saying goodbye to you, they never want to stop talking to you. I remember another reading on here (sorry I cannot remember which one or who) describing someone as a "down bad loverboy/girl" and that's what I'm getting for you (if someone knows which reading I'm talking about, please send it to me so I can link it here !!). they are cute. you guys might be long distance in the beginning, which is why i got the phone click. but whatever it is, they love uuuuuuu ok? "to the moon and back."

pile 3

"Hello. (I hear a very deep masculine voice here, very prominent) If I've ever seen such a beautiful soul, no soul could be no more beautiful than yours. No sun could shine brighter than the way your eyes light up, nothing can take that away from me- that appreciation I have for you and your beauty. You radiate, you know? I love that. You radiate like the sun, shining brightly and me being the humble man I am, simply adoring you from below. They say that if you look into the sun, you will go blind, but I would gladly go blind for you my love, because you are blinding and I would rather have you seared into the back of my eyeballs and in my mind as the last thing I've ever seen than to never see you again. Everything is for you, always for you, just for you. Why did you go so soon? We barely had begun our journey and you were off again on your great quest for such knowledge I can never give you. I wish I could give you everything but I cannot, only you can do that for yourself and I will let you- I mean, I don't control you. You're free to do whatever you want, I support you, I just miss you..a lot. more than I admit it. Come home safely, bring me a souvenir? The pretty kind, the beautiful kind, but none will be as beautiful as you are; they're only beautiful because they've been touched by the hands of the angel on earth.

hands I am glad to hold one day, hands I will gladly hold forever.

yours,

fs."

Once again, I got very masculine energy from the beginning. They may be very masculine, I'm seeing mostly a male here. It can be the other way around, or really any gender, but that's what I'm seeing here. They're very....formal? Cut edge, straight to the point. They're good with words, they like using them (I just heard "In more ways than one" :I, that was meant to be sexual but I don't do 18+ readings so they can shut it, haha!). They like you a lot, they think you're amazing and personally lovable (lovable just for them and only them, perfect match, a match made in heaven). They encourage your adventures and your thirst for knowledge, the need to explore, although they may not be able to come with you. They root for you on the sidelines though and may provide financial assistance for you to accomplish your dreams. I'm getting older businessman vibes from this, specifically getting a white older 'gentleman' with brown hair and a very thick beard? that might be someone's person, their name might be Micheal with their last name beginning with an R, very specific.

pile 4

TRIGGER WARNING; d3ath, self-loathing, overall a very depressing & heavy energy.

If you aren't comfortable with these things, here is a quick overview minus the heavier topics.

Your future spouse is going through a lot right now. They may be in a depressed and detached state, they might be a player but it isn't something they enjoy. They need time, they don't believe you exist at this moment. Their energy is very sad and dark, although if they don't change, someone else will take their place as your future lover. The lessons they need to learn are important and you should also take your own lessons seriously.

"introducing... you, my beloved lover!

one of three, hehe. or maybe not, maybe you are the one. i don't know why you would think i am the one, did i make you think that? I'm not that good of a person, you know? people toss me to the side and use me like a puppet, toy on a string. i want you so badly...no, i just want someone. have you ever seen those cute movies with cute couples doing cute things? i would love that to be me and someone, someone out there maybe. but maybe I'm not meant for that, I'm not sure. maybe I'm meant to be a plaything and a lesson and eventually end up in a dumpster somewhere (wow wtf?), not from dying though, just being trash i guess. i'd rather not die. i mean, i don't know anymore. if you're real, can you come get me? pick me up? carry me away, safe in your arms? but there's no guarantees though, I'll probably kick and thrash and be toxic and make you feel lonely for a while and I'm sorry. but i promise I'll be yours one day, let me just get it out of my system. or maybe you don't care? i don't know. I'm tired of people pretending to care, if you don't actually care, maybe it's your actual emotions about me. maybe I'm projecting, I'm sorry. i love you. but this is empty. empty love, no cup to pour from. maybe there's someone else for you out there, maybe i need to find myself first.

-someone new."

oh, this got sad and dark :(? sensing that this is current energy, they're in a bad place. sorry for the sad reading pile 4,if you were expecting something happier & lighter-hearted. i hope you can love your fs in the future for all of the shit they have to go through. they'll be better when they get to you, the universe will make sure of it and if they aren't then someone new will come and take their place for them, they're willing to let the spot go because they know you deserve the best.

they do want you to know that lessons are important.

[fiddles-ifs]

UPDATE: 12-30-23

Happpy (almost) New Year everyone! 2024 doesn't sound like a real year but we're hurtling towards it at lightspeed, so watch out !

I joined a super secret gamedev project this month as an Official Writer (!!!!!!!!) so that's been eating up most of my time. I'm also officially announcing Feed Off Me (working title), which is my most self-indulgent mlm vampire erotica mini-IF for Queer Vamp Jam.

It's still pretty raw and I haven't even gotten to branching choices or dialogue yet, but that's because I'm straight up writing the short story first and then adding choices later. This is for me. I'M the pilot and EYE decide where the plane goes.

I've also gotten the prologue of Erinys written and I'm working on chapter 1 (not going to show a sc simply because the character creation screen is a lot of unedited paragraphs and I'm shy) and trying to see if I can't animate a splash screen between chapters. I know I can, I'm just trying to decide if I should.

Happy New Year!!

[diet-gasoline]

I have an important tip that I have yet to see someone else share.

So as a pretty small percentage of you guys are aware, nearly all the th1n5p0 you see on here is edited. That’s just a fact. No one with a disorder this competitive is gonna be uploading raw, unedited pics/videos. Not to mention most of them have unnervingly cartoonish proportions.

If you want to see actual pictures of what extreme WL actually looks like, Google search is the way to go. “Severely vnd3rw31ght people” (uncensored ofc) will usually do the trick.

Normally I wouldn’t post something like this, I don’t post th1n5p0 because 99% of it is fake (the worst offender being pinterest). I want to share this with you guys because too many of you unknowingly have wildly unrealistic ideas of what your body is gonna look like after WL.

I’m not trying to patronize anyone, I know some of you are aware it’s fake and don’t care. I’m just letting you know because I also fell victim to the mindset that my waist should be the size of my head, and I had a “wide ribcage” that prevented my torso from being as narrow as my thighs. These proportions would be absolutely horrific in real life. Your brain is just so used to seeing it on your phone, it makes it seem normal.

That’s pretty much it, I just wanted to share this way to get ACTUAL th1n5p0, not some heavily filtered, contorted image of a “body” you see on Pinterest. If any of you are interested in learning a little more about this, there’s a great group on Reddit called r/instagramreality. It’s INCREDIBLY eye opening, this shit is SO prevalent.

I hope whoever sees this doesn’t get discouraged by it, but maybe feels a little better about their body.

[noxturnalpascal]

WIP Wednesday: Man or Bear: Cult Joel Edition

Devotion🖤 III. Path to the Future - Ch 9

Unedited, raw text from the chapter 9 document below the cut. I know it's been delayed but I'm working on it. Thank you all for your patience.

He jolts awake, a sound skimming his senses and alerting him to danger. He lies there, statue-still, and tries to listen past the woosh of the pumping blood in his ears, taking deep breaths to slow his thumping heartbeat. It’s dark here in the thick trees and the sun is low in the sky. He must have slept most of the afternoon away but he can tell it’s not evening yet. Suddenly Joel realizes it’s not a sound that woke him but the lack of sound. There are no birds singing, no insects buzzing, just the eerie sound of the branches creaking and the new spring leaves dancing on their boughs.  He slowly sits up - weapon in hand and his head on a swivel - trying to listen for the clues that nature around him has already picked up on. A predator is nearby. Infected wouldn’t be this quiet, they’re mindless and insatiable and only care about one thing. This is either a large animal or a human. He actually finds himself hoping to catch sight of a black bear as opposed to the alternative.

🖤

Cult Leader Joel on the hunt for his woman.... {he once said... “You can’t fuckin run from me, girl,” he points his finger in your face where you lie. “You can’t fuckin’ escape.”}

[bangtanfancamp]

Headed to the Mountains |KNJ

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

•one shot

•Masterlist

•pairing: songwriter Kim Namjoon x oc with chronic pain

•word count: 3,465

•genre: escapism, hurt/comfort, smut, established relationship

•rating: MATURE/ 18+

•warnings: current event commentary, somewhat anti- American sentiment (I live in Texas so I see a lot of mess first hand 🫤 it’s my country but my god, it’s messy), stress, chronic pain, high sensitivity, sensory issues, first person voice, smut smut smutty smut, oral (female receiving and male), tandem oral, smex, doggy style?, Namjoon’s big brain during smex, smut with feelings and a lot of thoughts (as usual) ((all my air sign placements really coming out to play

•a/n: idk what this is, besties, besides extremely unedited and wildly indulgent. I may change the voice out of first person and all the “i’s” to “you’s” but it’s up the way it’s up for now. 🤷🏽‍♀️The world is just a horrifying place right now, especially in the US, and I just wanted to write something that felt like a small refuge, spend a little time some place that felt better, so we’re back in Namjoon’s living room. Also, who better to escape into the woods and away from reality with than the founder of namjooning himself ((also also, that bit about Pennsylvania was 100% true. It’s wild here, man))

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I cannot get comfortable for the life of me,” I huff grumpily.

It’s a Monday night, late in March. The threat of rain has been looming for hours. Despite its sudden absence in the forecast when I check the weather app, I can still feel it in my bones. In the raw, creaky way my joints scrape against each other. The way the inflammation in my body burns like fire ants beneath my skin.

Namjoon is quick to notice from across the room.

“This weather’s been making your body feel like hell this spring.”

“Yeah, I hate to begrudge it though. Winter was even worse.”

“Gosh, it really was huh?” He frowns at the laptop screen on his desk. He’s got the tiniest beanie shoved on his very big head but somehow, it works. The tips of his hair peak past the beanie’s brim, brushing the mussed hair of his furrowed eye brows. “God, I can’t stand to stare at a screen a second longer.”

He peels his gold rimmed glasses off his nose, rubbing the little indentions they've made along the bridge and pressing his fingers into his closed eye sockets. I can tell he’s exhausted and miserable too about how much energy life seems to require of him these days.

“I’m going to scoop you up and make you the most comfortable woman in the world, I promise. Just give me like three minutes.” He tips back in his desk chair, the spine of it sliding out to a wide reclined angle as his long legs stretch out in front of him.

“Why did we spend so much money on a couch that’s not even comfortable, joonie?” I whine, shifting once again.

“Because the last one was even less comfortable than this one,” he reminds me, “and at least this one is cognac leather,” he shrugs. “It’s comfy on the eyes at least”

“Well I need it to be comfy for my bones.” I grunt, shoving yet another throw pillow out of your way. “Maybe we should pick up and move to the shore, like in a regency novel. I think the air would be good for me. I wonder if American healthcare accepts existential dread and deep chronic pain as enough of a reason to just financially support us until I turn to dust.”

“You and your TikTok algorithm both know as well as I do that America will do no such thing,” Namjoon chuckles with his eyes closed.

“I know…. But they should take at least some culpability. God knows most of my health problems probably exist BECAUSE of them.” I slide the strap of my bra and shirt off my shoulder, not because I want to be a seductress but because the elastic is cutting into my throbbing right trap muscle and if I don’t get some of the tension off of it, I might scream.

“Right? Did you hear about the latex spill in the Delaware river yesterday? The entire city of Philadelphia doesn’t have usable drinking water right now. My friend there literally got a text message about it from the city strongly recommending every use bottled water only until

Further notice. One and a half million people woke up to that text Message! It’s insane.” Namjoon pulls his oversized hood up over his beanie as he looks up at the ceiling, ankles crossed beneath the desk.

“Lord, haven’t we lived through enough of this? I’m so tired, joonie.” I can hear how pitiful I sound. To his credit, he treats me just the same as when I sound intellectually astute and strong. I’ve always liked that about him.

“If the world is going to hell in a hand basket anyway, maybe we should look into a- moving internationally and b- signing up for a payment plan on one of those YouTube influencer mattresses,” Namjoon tips his head my way, and suddenly my heart feels a little more light.

“Ooo, the helix?“ I smile, for perhaps the first time tonight.

His dark eyes twinkle in the low evening lamplight.

“ I actually did some research and found one made out of avocados.”

“Is that as close as I can get now that my body has decided it’s allergic to Avos?”

Namjoon’s eyes crinkle as he laughs. “God, your body would find a way to betray you like that wouldn’t it?”

“It’s not my fault I’m too delicate for this world,” I shrug.

“I forget you were born inside a flower that protected you from the world with its petals until it bloomed, thumbelina.”

“If I could take a nap inside a peony right now, I’d do it in a heartbeat…. The pollen might be too much though.” I sigh.

“Come here,” Namjoon laughs, standing from his chair and extending his hand toward me.

“Where are you taking me?”

I slip my knuckles between his and knock against his shoulder with my head.

“To my bumblebee. Take you on a spin around the block” he winks.

“I’m surprised you didn’t say take a ride. It’s like the only lyric you use these days” I snicker, bumping the curve of my hip into his.

“You’re supposed to write what you know,” he shrugs.” It’s not my fault your hips are your area of expertise.”

He winks at me and god, if he took every piece of clothing off of me right now, I’d ride him in a heartbeat.

Shit. Knowing him, he can probably feel my response to him without even looking at me. Sure enough, he looks down, smiling until his dimples dip in his cheeks, and damn it, I’m so captivated by the focaccia dough dips in his face that I stumble into the corner of the wall. My hip catches and I yelp, more embarrassed than in pain.

“Shh, hey, I got you.”

That calm voice of his is so low right now as his palm curves around the dip in my hip that got nicked by the wall. I tip into his long, warm torso and let him guide me into the bedroom. I’m clearly too disoriented and agitated to make it here without careening into something else and frustrating myself, so I’m happy for the assistance. Besides, being scooped up in Namjoon’s substantial hands is never a bad place to be.

“Thanks, baby. I needed that.”

I press my temple into his chest, kiss his ribs. Marvel at the resistance of muscle I feel beneath his soft green shirt. I press my nose into the fabric and let the warmth of him calm me. His other hand strokes soft knuckles along my jaw. His touch is so light and sweet - I feel my shoulders drop as he does it.

“Pick me up?” I whisper, eyes lifting softly to look up at him from where I’m pressed into his chest.

His hands slide up my sides, palms pressed into my waist as he lifts me. The soft grunt he makes as my thighs wrap around his ribs makes something in my brain feel a little fuzzy. Life is better like this, I think. Our faces nuzzled cheek to cheekbone, his hands fitted beneath my thighs, mine trailing softly through the silky bits of his hair peeking out of the back of his beanie as my arms drape over his shoulders like fabric. I can feel the knot of tension in the middle of my spine begin to untie itself as I melt into him. God, I’m so happy he exists.

“Where would you like to go, princess?”

Namjoon kisses the top of my ear, and that fuzzy tingle in my brain is back.

“What are my options?”

I press my lips softly to his throat in light, meditative kisses. They’re more like delicate exhales. My tongue barely tips out to taste his skin. Just a touch. Just a taste. Sleepy and slow because that’s all I have the energy for. His eyelids do that hazy half flutter that tells me he likes it enough to pretend he doesn’t so that I’ll keep going. I smile as he gently tips his head to the side, as if waiting for my answer, but really he’s just giving me more room to access that spot behind his ear that likes my lips. Let’s humor the man.

“We could go to the bed, the shower, the bath��” he gasps a little on the last word, the ah sound coming out too airy as I gently mouth at his pulse point and his grip on my thighs gets tense. “Or there’s a ….counter right here.” His head tips toward the half bath in the hallway as his fingers dig into the meat of my legs.

When I look up to meet his eyes, they’ve gone serpentine. Deep and dark and heavy as he holds me close. I can feel how shallow his breathing is becoming and I smile, sleepy and soft as he watches me.

“Take me to bed, Joonie.”

He’s kissing me before I can even finish his name.

He tips the door open with one of his feet before squeezing us both through the threshold of it. With his eyes closed and his tongue between my lips, he’s bound to crash into something and he does. He thunks an elbow, I knock my head, but in seconds, he’s cradling it where I’ve bumped the wall, spilling “sorry, I’ve got you, sorry,” onto my tongue as he pulls me in closer.

The spell doesn’t break.

He’s big and he’s bulky but he’s careful with me as he lays me on the bed and climbs over me. His mouth doesn’t leave mine even as he peels off each piece of my clothing. His movements are slow, his touch tender as he does.

Namjoon has learned how to soothe my body when it’s alert like this. Knows the cool air feels refreshing and crisp when my skin is hot with pain and sensitivity so he gets me naked with a deft touch. He knows the feel of his skin is grounding for me so that soft green shirt of his hits the floor. Knows I love his hair so the beanie goes next. Knows I love the strength in his thighs so his shorts are next as he tugs my hips down beneath his to let me wrap my legs around his slim waist.

I'm so wrapped up in the warmth of him that I don’t realize he’s tugged my silk pillowcase beneath my head. It’s cool when my head falls back and I smile, toothy and wide, as his plush lips sink into my skin. He’s at my collarbone now, then the volume of my breasts. His breath is warm, the air is cool and his substantial hands grip me firm like dough he’s being careful with as he kneads.

His cock brushes against me between my legs and the bright feeling it sends sparkling through me makes my breathing stutter.

“Joonie,” I shiver, and I can feel him smile against my skin. See his eyes flash up at me in the dark.

“We do too much, baby.” He breathes, voice smoky and low like the dragon he is.

I don’t know what he means. My critical thinking is losing its sharpness as he suckles warm and soft at the dip of my ribs.

“Too much?” I can feel my brows crumpling, but his tongue is so warm on my stomach that my hands dig into his shoulders without my consent.

He reaches up to brush one hand over mine.

“Shhh, easy. We’re trying to relax you, not tense you up.”

He’s smiling. I can barely see him but I can feel him and I know his grin would only dissolve me deeper into the mattress.

“We do too much, we deal with too much. God, your skin is too motherfucking much,” he squeezes me, latches his soft mouth onto my waist and tugs at the skin. I can feel the bruise blooming there, but he’s off and on to the next before I can even get words out. “Your body is always trying to process all of it, but it’s too much. Let me take care of some of it- let me help.”

When His tongue slips between my legs, his strong hands push my legs wide, press them down when he feels me buckle. His breath is so warm, his mouth is so molten, his nose on my clit is so gentle- it all leaves my body in an exhale. Tension drops off like melted wax and I feel myself go supple in his palms as I let him do what he wants with me.

“There’s been so much chaos. So much to deal with. So much to do. I just want to run away from it all with you.”

His tongue is languid as it works on me. The rush of warmth undoes the aches in my body better than a hot bath ever has.

“Then let’s go, Joonie. Where do you want to go? I’ll follow you anywhere.” And I mean it. They’re not lusty rambles. They’re not hollow words. I’d follow him to the edge of the world.

He puts that plump mouth of his over my clit and the gentle way he slurps me up melts my bones into soup broth and clears my head.

“You’ll let me take you anywhere?”

He looks up at me, his mouth never leaving his post, working me slowly as he waits for my reply. His mouth is so wet, his eyes are so sharp and my body is just another piece of music he’s learned how to perfect. I nod, bottom lip bit between my teeth and relax as much as I can as he composes a symphony between my legs. His smile folds the crinkles around his eyes, and his aura flickers between lovingly soft and steadily authoritative as he doubles down, wrapping his arms around my legs to scoop my hips up into his face and pressing into me, deeper, faster, harder.

I arch up when he does, gasping as my shoulders lift up, my fingers twist in the bedspread, my jaw goes slack. He’s really doing a number on me and all I want to do is say thank you and let him continue.

He slides up my body then, one hand behind my head bringing my forehead to his as the other grips my hip with enough pressure to split it apart as he tips his cock inside me in a way I didn’t know I needed. The sound is squelchy and wet and he smiles as his nose bumps against mine.

“You’ll follow me?”

He sounds cocky in a way he hasn’t in a while and a little piece of me loves it. His hips are fluid as his cock rocks in and out of me. All I can do is nod wildly, disoriented as I clutch him close to me. My legs are folded up, feet along his hips for purchase with my knees butterflied wide. I’d laugh at how much I must look like a frog if this didn’t feel so good. He’s got a hand beneath my bum, lifting my hips off the bend and gliding his cock so deep into me that surely my organs are all shifting wide like the Red Sea to make room for him.

“Wherever you want to go,” I hum, arms falling slack. I’ve lost the energy to hold on to him, but he’s got me held up so precious and tight that we’re still more intertwined than two fibers of thread in a tight knit sweater. I’ve fused into him and now every breath is in tandem.

“I’m gonna take my girl away from here.”

His thumb brushes my bottom lip and I feel myself flush at his tenderness.

“Yeah?” My eyes are wide, following his. He hovers above me, furrowed face sculpted with intensity and aggression as his body works mine into ecstasy. I’ve really acquiesced to the fact that I’m nothing more than a soft lump of clay in his hands that he’s working with precision. I’ve always wanted to be a work of art.

He slips my breast into his mouth like a lychee jelly, moaning at the feel of me tightening around him when he does it. Pumping harder, faster, deeper, only to pull out and dip his long fingers into the mess he’s made. He slathers it over all my sensitive bits, caressing with finesse as sparklers crackle in my vision.

When He pulls me up and into him, my face is pressed between his pecs and god, I can’t keep it together. I kiss them furiously as he works, clutching onto his arms, dragging my fingers down his abs as he slides his glossy fingers over my clit like he’s casting a spell. I can’t breathe… I can’t breathe… I can’t….

But I can because I have to- Namjoon won’t ease up until he gives me the sweet oxytocin of release by his hands and I wouldn’t have it any other way. So I dig deep and exhale slow and controlled, whimpering as he rockets past that orgasm to send me into preparing for the next one. He smirks like I’m his plaything and I comply with no resistance. I’ll have as many rounds as he gives me. I’m a big girl. I can handle- Oh!

At least, I thought I could handle anything. Naive me, I suppose.

I smile into the sheets when he tips me over onto all fours. He kisses my shoulders, kisses along my spine, brushing his thumbs on the folds on my hip, all tender and kind and syrupy sweet as the behemoth between his legs tips ever so slowly inside of me despite my incredible tightness, and I don’t know whether to breathe or scream so I press my face into the bedding and giggle like there’s something wrong with me.

“Take you somewhere quiet,” he slides in deeper. “With no noise,” he thrusts. “No news.” He thrusts. “Just nature.”

My chest feels tight with affection but my body feels limps like a rag doll as he pumps me silly. His gargantuan hands holding up my hips are the only thing keeping me from sliding off the bed and melting into the floorboards.

“Joonie, i’d- I’d love that,” soft puffs of air leave me with each fluid roll of his hips. The snap at the end of the graceful flourish knocks my skull a little loose but I don’t mind. Thinking so little is really quite nice.

“Take you for walks, lay with you in nature, fuck you like this in an outdoor bath tub while we watch the stars.”

His hand glides down my spine as he paints beautiful pictures with his words. My heart and my body don’t know which way is up.

“Escape all this chaos. At least for a little bit.” He smirks. I catch a glimpse of it as I look over my shoulder, reach back to hold his hand.

“I might never let you drag me back to the real world.” My smile is gooey, fond and so is his now. His dimples have come out - all his sincerity and heart on display, as his hips still even as he still fills me up.

“I can write poetry in the wild,” he shrugs. “My music would probably be better for it.”

He looks bashful and soft. The juxtaposition of his strong body and sweet face make me dip forward. He slides out of me, watching with confusion as I guide him to stand beside the bed.

When I flip onto my back, letting my head loll backwards off the bed in front of him, he arches a brow at me. I just chuckle and pull him forward by the back of his legs.

“Come here. I want to make my own music.”

I take the length of him into my mouth and he topples over, hands bracing on either side of me on the bed. He groans so sweet and low that I smile as I take him deep. His knees buckle when my nose tips softly against his balls as I suckle him slowly and it takes everything in me not to laugh at how happy I am.

His hands travel my body as his mouth occupies itself. He makes a meal of my breasts, takes a drink between my legs, holds my throat to lighten my breath. When we cum in tandem, he collapses to my side as we catch our breath in silence.

The night is still, the air is cool and rain is finally trickling against the windows.

Our bodies are spent and our plan is set.

We’ll run away soon enough.

But now, cradled breast to breast, we sleep knowing our world is just the smallest bit brighter.

[gamma-rae-bursts]

My Little Dove

Emily is grieving the loss of her girlfriend y/n, who committed su*cide a day before Emily’s return from the dead.

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Fem!Rrader

CW: grief, implied suicide, arguments, swearing (let me know if I missed anything)

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1000+

A/N: This is a pt.2 to "It Was Night When You Died, My Firefly". Big thank you to @storiesofsvu for brainstorming the idea with me! This also covers Katt's Birthday Bingo Square.

Unedited.

The minutes that followed were filled with desperate screams and attempts to bring you back to life. The paramedics arrived at the scene within what seemed like a split second, announcing your death upon arrival.

“Emily” one of the agents dared to break her out of this spiral she fell into, not wanting to give you up “Emily, she’s gone” the pain filled voice sounded again, it was JJ speaking, her eyes filled with tears as the words were leaving her mouth. 

Emily held you in her arms, not willing to let you go, feeling the still-present warmth of your freshly deceased body, already feeling the effects of rigor taking control of your lifeless muscles. Determined to hold onto you.

Her sobs never ceased, overpowering the silence of the room. The heart-breaking sight causing a stream of tears falling from the other agents’ eyes. Her firm grip on your body only tightened as the paramedics attempted to separate the two of you. Her fingertips tracing gentle patterns on your skin as her tears fell onto you, softly pleading for you to come back.

The apartment filled with more and more people forcing her grip to loosen. All the agents watched as the medical personnel transported your motionless remains to the body bag, trying to hold onto Emily and stop her protests and fights. 

“I’m not ready to say goodbye yet”, the raven-haired woman pleaded, her whisper filled with indescribable pain, as you were transported out of the building.

Everyone stayed still, slowly losing the sight of the medics that were now out of the apartment. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” Emily cried, raising her voice at the other agents “None of this was supposed to happen! How could you let her get to this point?! How did none of you notice the signs?!”

“Emily-” an attempted response came from Hotch as the other agents lowered their heads, refusing to look the other woman in the eyes.

“No! She’s dead Hotch!” Emily was fuming, not quite sure who to direct her anger at “You are all profilers for god’s sake! How comes none of you bothered to check up on her! And you?!” she turned to look at JJ, the blonde woman’s head still down refusing any eye contact “I have asked you how she was doing! Does this fucking look like alright to you?! You promised you would take care of her!”

There was no reply, just as the heavy silence started filling the room once again Emily's voice roamed through the space.

“Everyone get out of here!” she shouted as the tears kept streaming down her cheeks. “Now!”

And they did. Leaving Emily in her now empty apartment. The place was filled with silence as the woman crumbled under the weight of her grief. Her body trembled with each sob, and her miserable cries filled the air, echoing with raw, true pain. Tears streamed relentlessly down her face, tracing wet trails through the dust of sorrow etched upon her cheeks.

The rest of the day was a blur, the time consumed by the overpowering sense of loss. She could still smell remnants of your presence, the smell of your cherry shampoo combined with your favourite perfume lingering in her nostrils. Every time she opened her eyes, now swollen from the continuous cries, it was as if she could see you out of the corner of her eye, never daring to look that way preventing the illusion from fading. The room grew darker and darker, the capital slowly consumed by the darkness of dust. 

“I’m so sorry y/n/n” a barely audible whisper left her lips as she looked at the photo of the two of you. “I am so, so sorry” 

9th of October

Emily woke up with heaviness weighing on her chest, the feeling of suffocation never seemed to lift. Every breath seemed just a little harder than the previous one. She knew she was awake, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped in a never-ending nightmare that she couldn’t wake up from. There was no escape from it. The darkness still filling the room as she reluctantly began to open her eyes that now held a hollow emptiness, lacking the life that was once present. With her vision blurred by tears she reached out to the other side of the bed hoping to find you there, hoping that it was all a horrible nightmare. But the other side of the bed was cold. Untouched. 

And you were gone, the piece of her that kept her going for the last seven months was ripped away from her embrace as you took your last breath just hours prior to her arrival. A part of her that gave her a reason to live was now gone and it was all her fault. 

Time seemed to cease its passage allowing her to navigate through the labyrinth of her thoughts. The memories of you came like a flood, her trembling hands clutched to her chest, holding herself tightly, feeling her heart shattering at the sight of your shadowy figure sitting at the edge of the mattress, disappearing with a single blink. The piercing pain of her breaking heart echoed with every gasp for air, each sob that left her quivering lips. 

Looking out of the open window her eyes were fixed on the brightness of the moon, the only source of light filling the space, just like she used to do with you. Always getting lost in the mindless conversations, the plans for the future, the life you wanted to build together. Being snuggled in the comfort and safety of each other’s arms. 

Leaving you never seemed right. The excuse of it being for the greater good was not enough anymore. 

Could she have prevented this? If she only reached out, left you a clue that she was alive and would be coming back to you. That she never truly left. There was not a day she didn’t consider that, not a day you didn’t fully occupy her thoughts. Even going as far as purchasing a little white dove figure, just like the one you gifted after a particularly hard case, with a sweet reminder that no matter how things go you’ll always love her. Did she give you enough love? 

There were so many things she wanted to tell you. Apologise for. Experience with you. 

But it was too late now.

Taglist: @nightmarish-fae @storiesofsvu @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @venromanova @maybe-a-humanbean @section-chief-prentiss

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[call-sign-shark]

I’m listening to Ultraviolence by Lana Del Ray and I can’t shake the feeling of a fic with Arthur based off this song. I feel like it fits him so well! I can just imagine a toxic relationship between him and the reader where he hits her or harms her in some way (intentional or not) but she keeps going back to him

“He hit me and it felt like a kiss..”

Plssss lmao the way this works so well

No need to do anything with it, just wanted to share because I know you’re a slut for Arthur like I am

“Because I know you’re a slut for Arthur” SIS YOU’RE SO RIIIIIGHT. HE’S MY SOFT KITTEN. 😩

Ultraviolence || Dark!Arthur Shelby x Reader

TW: angst ++, abusive husband, toxic relationship, depiction of domestic violence, alcoholism, if you think this trope have a good ending you should not read it, no proof reading: this is raw, unedited and prolly super badly written??

Words: 1k

Each inch gained by the clock’s needle, your heart raced more as if it feared to be pierced by its the sharp steel. Nibbling on your fingers’ skin compulsively, you sat on the large luggage you prepared one hour ago because you knew that when Arthur came home after midnight, he was not the man you fell in love with anymore. His gruff voice, usually lavishing you with the sweetest pet names he could find, would call you deadly nightshade — because when you looked at him with fear and fury in your oh-so- beautiful but teary eyes, it felt like a caustic poison was running through his veins, burning him from within and dissolving his sanity.

The door opened, your soul wept.

“Oi Y/N, where the fook are ye?” The gravel in his tone, who used to make you shiver with desire, sent shivers of fright down your spine. You took a deep breath, struggling to keep composure: this night would be the last you suffered from his violent love. After months of hesitating, coming back to him almost crawling, you decided that this nightmare had to stop. Somehow, you knew you had to flee from his claws before you ended up dead and cold — either by suicide or by his hands.

He stumbled in the living room, an empty bottom of whisky hanging from his hand. His steel blue eyes, half closed due to the amount of alcool he drank and cocaine he snorted, were looking for you, “Bloody hell Y/N, a good wife always welcome her husband when he comes back home. So be a good fookin’ woman and come greet your ol’ Arthur with the warmth he fucking deserve.” He grunted, before his frightening gaze fell on you.

He looked at you, and you could hear the sirens howling in the back of your head.

“What the hell?” He whispered at the sight of your packed stuff, slowly understanding your intentions, “Are you fucking serious?”

“I can’t do this anymore Arthur,” words left your mouth, falling from your quivering lips, “This is going to kill me… I’m sorry.”

“You wanna leave me?” He asked, bewildered. The sound of the bottle shattering on the wooden floor echoed in the living room, answering to the screams of his own heart breaking. You hated yourself at the idea of hurting him but you could not do it anymore, loving him was really hard. At first your thought it would be enough to save him, to heal his soul and mind, but love was not enough— your love was never enough.

“I’m sorry.” You got up and grabbed your luggage, before making your way to the door. Yet, Arthur firmly grabbed your wrist as you passed by, his grip so sharp it bruised your skin almost instantly.

“You’re not going anywhere, love.”

“Let me go. Please Arthur, if you love me you have to let me go.”

“I said you’re not. Going. Any-fookin-where.” He retorted, his hoarse voice growling with more hatred as anger boiled within him.

“Let me go you fucking bastard!” You bursted out, panic overwhelming your aching soul as you felt his nails digging into your skin.

The horrific sound of the blow that followed made the skies shook with sorrow. Pain stung your cheek, its burning sensation spreading on all the left side of your face. You let out a woeful whimper, tears flowing from your eyes almost instantly. He hit you, and it felt like a kiss, because it was his way of loving you when he was drunk.

“YOU AIN’T LEAVING ME, YOU POISON. I’M ARTHUR FUCKING SHELBY RIGHT?” He barked.

His hand grabbed you a second time — but it was not to make you dance anymore, like he used to do when you were kids.

Pain rain down on you,

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence.

“I’m … Im so sorry…” Arthur kept saying over and over again, his hands on both side of his head as he pulled his own hair, devastated with the view of crimson stains on your face.

Panicking, he then grabbed your chin and almost suffocated you with his lips, assaulting your bleeding mouth with desperate kisses, “I’m so sorry Y/N, it won’t happen again. I just don’t know what crossed my mind, it wasn’t me… it was the fucking whisky! The bloody snow! I won’t do it again, I swear doll I will never hurt you anymore… I— I love you… God I love you so much I’ll die without you.”

His blue eyes overflowed with tears of gold, like lemonade.

“Arthur… I —“ Words choked in your throat as you saw him cry. The monster had left, leaving him sobbing like a beaten child. He raised your gaze toward yours when you called him, and you knew he was your gentle Arthur again.

But you could not forgive him again and again.

Could you?

He would be the death of you.

“Please, I’ll do anything for you. Please, Y/N.”

The cacophony of your mind almost made you wince, for your thoughts crashed against your skull in a messy bacchanalia. Run away, you had to run away… so why did your body remained petrified? Why did you gently stroke his hair, looking at him, desperately in love?

It was stronger than you, stronger than reason, you hated to see him cry. You despised the way he was hating himself, genuinely guilty.

But you had to go.

To go.

But you stayed.

Don’t beg, stop telling me you love me. Please.

Please I can’t. It’s never enough.

Give me all of that ultraviolence.

“I love you too, Arthur. I love you forever.” Your voice was merely a whisper as warm blood ran from your nostrils, tainting your lips and dying on your chin. Your fingers gently grazed his neck as you knew he loved — all you wanted was to stop his pain. To see him smile with that stupid, irresistible grin that made you fall for him.

“I can’t lose you, Y/N.” His lips laid a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth, the tip of his tongue tasting the blood. His voice was filled with sincere love, “I’ll change. I swear to God I’ll change for you,” Somehow he really believed in what he said, but the truth was he would never change… And you knew it.

“You won’t lose me — maybe you could — help me putting my stuff back where they belong?” You stuttered, your whole body about to collapse in his arms for it just wanted to feel his touch.

“Of course I’ll do.”

Arthur smiled.

You did too.

But Angels cried,

for they knew that he hurt you and it felt like true love.

Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me honey, know that you can make yourself at home in my ask box, especially when it’s about babyboy Arthur.

I love this Lana’s song so much, and I completely understand the vibes you felt. It would suit so well in a Dark!Arthur fic — in fact I loved it so much I could not help but write a little something for ya! Even though I do feel in-character Arthur would be far too terrified to hurt Reader and would not physically harm . Maybe being rougher, bruising her with his grip without doing it on purpose. But he would not hit her (cf: office scene with Linda in S5). Yet — I decided to go dark with this one because, as you said, “he hit me and it felt like a kiss” is just perfect for this sad trope.