#and i know trying to replace j*ey just for the sake of replacing him isnt good for my mental health | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ah-ga-seven · 3 years

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No More Pain | Jung Jaehyun

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x Fem!reader

Synopsis: The lingering wounds of your miscarriage have reopened. Now that you are broken up, an unforseen change in Jaehyun’s life has brought him back to your doorstep. Will he be able to fix you this time? Or will he fail just the same as before?

Genre: Angst, One Shot.

Warnings: mentions of the reader having a miscarriage, depression, alcohol addiction and heartbreak.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Probably one of the heaviest angsts I’ve written. I know the subject is rough but the idea came from a dream so I just had to write it down.

This was a different kind of pang to your heart.

You’ve had your fair share of tragedies, heartbreaks and disappointments, but this…

This feeling was nothing like anything you’ve ever felt before and quite frankly, you wouldn’t wish this upon your greatest enemy.

It was a Thursday night, one like many where you decided to stay in and recharge from a busy day at your demanding job.

You were seated on your couch with a hot cup of tea as you mindlessly scrolled through your Instagram feed. Completely wrapped in the warmth of your favorite fleece blanket. But even the thick fluffy material couldn’t protect you from the cold shivers that ran down your spine.

You blankly stare at the post your best friend forwarded to you via dm and stiffened.

Memories of the night you miscarried 4 months into your pregnancy flood back to you as you stare at his comment.

You remembered how broken he looked when the doctor couldn’t find the baby's heartbeat anymore.

You remembered how he held you as you cried in his arms, promising that he’d love you just the same as he tried to console you to his best ability while suffering himself.

You remembered the pain and the relief of having Jaehyun by your side through it all. Glad that even though your life was about to change forever, he’d be the one constant thing you could rely on.

You remembered all of these moments like they happened yesterday, wishing future you could mentally prepare past you for what was going to be the hardest time in your life.

The man who swore never to leave you did just that, and not even 6 months into his new relationship, your biggest insecurity was made into a reality.

He had moved on for good, and even though you have no ill feelings towards him, you can’t help but feel anger over sadness right now.

It was that easy to replace you. And that easy for him to find someone that could give him what you couldn’t.

Even though your miscarriage wasn’t the direct cause of why he left, the effects of the incidence on your mental health dragged him down with you. So both of you felt it’d be better to part ways for the sake of not wanting to hate or resent each other in the end.

But God…you hated and resented him now more than ever.

It didn’t matter to you that both of you started to date new people, because a part of you always held on to the fact that you’d somehow find your way back to each other, though the probability of that ever happening again turned to ash.

Your miscarriage broke you.

No appetite for weeks, no motivation to get yourself out of bed and no cure for the monsters in your head who told you that Jaehyun was only sticking around out of pity for your broken state.

That same insecurity is what drove him into the arms of the women he told you not to worry about, and now they’re having a fucking child together.

Knowing that that should’ve been you was a thought that was just too much to bear right now. You suddenly feel sick to your stomach, tears prickling your eyes as you rub the spot on your belly where the mini bump used to be 8 months ago.

You were finally doing better, thriving in your job and social life. Meeting new people and dating a few loose ends here and there, but you can already feel yourself spiraling back into old depressional habits as you stare at the picture once more.

You pettily decide to like it, hoping it would spark interest from none other than your ex, and much to your surprise, it did.

Not even 20 minutes later your phone started to buzz on the counter as you poured yourself a glass of wine. You mindlessly retrieve it, expecting it to be your best friend but when you see his name as you take a sip you almost choke.

Is he serious?

You try to come up with what to say for the next 3 to 5 minutes but nothing in your head seems to translate your exact feelings to your fingertips.

You sigh in agony while leaning over on your kitchen counter with your phone still in your hands, reading his messages over and over again. You subconsciously start to bite your lip in deep thought, getting startled by your ringtone as your phone starts to ring in your grasp.

“Fuck,” you mumble to yourself, taking a big chug of the alcoholic beverage in front of you, putting on the bravest face and straightest posture to make yourself feel better before accepting the call.

You knew you didn’t have to answer, but you were dying to hear what he had to say under these circumstances.

“Y/N? Is that you?” His voice was unchanged. You didn’t know why, but you expected him to sound different, be different. Yet the same worry he’s always had for you was evident in his tone this time as well.

You clear your throat to avoid a voice crack and sigh. “Congratulations,” you tried to sound as genuine as you could, but you knew you sounded like shit.

You start to play with the ends of your hair out of anxious anticipation, waiting for him to respond on the other end of the line.

“I meant to tell you,” he starts. “I just…I didn’t know how and Chaeyoung suddenly uploaded the picture and-”

“Jae…please spare me the details,” you interrupt him. Saying his name like you used to felt like speaking a foreign language. He stayed quiet upon hearing your voice again and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Do you still live in the same apartment in Itaewon?” he suddenly asks, immediately alerting you to stand up straight because he could only be asking for one reason and one reason only.

“Y-yes.”

“Good, I’m on my way.”

Just like that, he hung up and just like that your heart rate starts to race uncontrollably.

You down the remnants of your wine glass and hope he’s isn’t too close because your place looked far from neat. For the next 15 minutes, you run around, shoving things into random cabinets. Whether those items belonged there or not was the least of your concern and just as you fluff the last pillow on your couch, your doorbell rings.

You take a deep breath, calming your nerves as you walk up to your front door, taking it off the lock before you open it with a dramatic swing.

There he was. Jung Jaehyun.

As beautiful and put together as he always looked, no matter the circumstance. You forget how to breathe when you lay eyes on him and gulp. It’s actually him.

His big dark orbs widened as he laid eyes on you after months of not seeing you. His facial expression softened, slowly parting his lips to speak but you beat him to it when you broke out of your trance.

“What are you doing here?” your shoulders fall as you look into his eyes for answers. The same eyes that once looked at you with so much love and adoration, but right now his pupils were stressfully darting back and forth, trying to read you like he used to be able to but he had no idea what you were feeling right now.

“Because I feel like shit y/n. Please let me in and let me explain,” he pleaded with a defeated tone.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “What is there to explain? You knocked up your girlfriend and finally got what you wanted. Why bother coming here? To rub it into my face?”

Your plan of staying calm and collected went completely out the window just now and you could tell by the shock on his face that he did not expect you to be angry with him.

He took a step forward, backing you into your own hallway. His height towered over you when you stepped back and without looking back he closed the door behind him.

“Y/n. I would never purposely do that to you. Ever.” You ignore his statement, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I don’t remember inviting you in Jaehyun. Does she even know you’re here?”

You hold your ground, crossing your arms over your chest as you wait for him to counter your attack, but he simply shook his head. Knowing damn well that you’re acting tough just so you won’t get emotional.

As he’s scanning the premises, his eyes linger on the red wine bottle on your kitchen counter and with a look of utter disbelief, he averts his attention back on you.

“You’re drinking again?” he asks with an almost condescending tone.

“Did you come here to practice your parenting skills because no thanks Jae, please leave,” you bite back as coldly as you could, but he wasn’t having it.

“That shit almost killed you and you’re just casually drinking again?” He runs his hand through his locks out of pure frustration, not knowing what to do with the misplaced feeling of still caring for you just the same, while also knowing he has no business to tell you how to live your life.

The truth is, Jaehyun had no idea what he was doing here. Everything about the situation felt wrong and he couldn’t lie to himself any longer. Ever since Chaeyoung told him she was pregnant; he couldn’t be fully happy about it. He couldn’t commit to fatherhood knowing how much it broke your relationship. How much it broke the women he loved most to this day.

“A little red wine didn’t hurt anyone,” you mumble under your breath and that comment alone send Jaehyun’s emotions into overdrive, unable to hide his disappointment and worry for you any longer.

“IT HURT YOU Y/N. DAMN IT!” He raised his voice at you as he roughly grabbed your arm to make you look at him, which is the last thing you expected. He wasn’t mad at you. He was mad at himself. Mad at the fact that he wasn’t there when you needed him most and mad at the fact that this is what your lives had come to.

You might have previously dealt with your pain by drinking, and you might have mindlessly mixed your anti-depressants with your drink once, which…just might have earned you a trip to the hospital, but that was your lowest low and you made sure it’d never happen again.

You beat your demons by yourself when he had already moved on, so he had no place to waltz back into your life when he felt like it, just to judge you.

You’re absolutely fuming by now because of that same reason and much to your dismay you feel new tears well up in your eyes.

“NO, YOU HURT ME!” you yell back at him as you smack his chest, the salty droplets streaming down your face as you kept hitting his chest to make him feel your pain. “YOU LEFT ME.”

Your knees got weak and you knew you looked absolutely pathetic as you crouched down in front of him. Shock took over his features as he got down on his own knees just as quickly, pulling you into the comfort of his arms. The warmth that you used to call home and the warmth that always seemed to calm you down engulfed you completely, a feeling your favorite fleece blanket from before could hardly imitate.

He patted your head with assuring strokes, whispering sweet nothings to you as he held you on the floor of your apartment. Letting you sob the pain away in his black shirt. “Shhh, it’s okay…” he kissed the top of your head, caressing your cheek as he wiped away your tears.

You calmed down slowly, ignoring the suffocating ache in your head and heart while he made you feel safe and sound like he always did. You sat there like that for God knows how long, letting your minds go into overdrive as silence comforted the both of you.

Ironically enough, this scenery was the exact same as the one in the hospital 8 months ago. You cried in his arms just like this when you had lost your child, but now you were crying because you had lost him. For good now.

“I would never purposely plan to have a baby this quickly y/n, you have to believe me. Chae was on birth control but it just…happened,” he whispers, finally breaking the agonizing silence.

You stay quiet, closing your eyes to the sound of his low voice, letting his words register. “I was going to tell you. I was planning to ask you out for a coffee but as soon as she passed her first trimester, she was just so excited and made the announcement…it was just bad timing.”

“All of this is bad timing,” you mumble, which made him nod in agreement. He sighed into your hair as he continued to explain. “Y/n, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care for you anymore. I wish things were different, but they simply aren’t and I’m sorry.”

You sniff, dabbing your tears and your nose with the sleeves of your blouse before looking up at him through your lashes.

“You don’t have to apologize for moving on and being happy Jaehyun. It’s all I ever wanted for you.” You wipe the single tear that remained on the corner of his eye, not having realized that he shed a few tears himself too.

He leaned into your touch as he looked into your eyes before closing them, leaning his forehead onto yours while taking a deep breath.

“I just want you to be ok.” He says suppressing a sob. “I can’t live this picture-perfect life knowing that you’re in pain y/n. It makes no sense; you deserve so much more it’s not fair.”

Your lip starts to quiver as his words hit you, and you build up the courage to look at him again.

He stared at you longingly and lovingly for the first time since forever and you knew a mistake was about to be made when he inched his face closer to you, but it was too late.

His lips made contact with yours and you completely gave in. Letting him lead you into a slow yet passionate kiss that took both of your breaths away. Before things could get more heated, you realize what was happening and froze.

You take a hold of his wrists as you pull away, your eyes staring into his equally electrified ones as you recompose yourselves.

“I-I’m sorry,” he started. “I should’ve never confused you like that. Fuck. What the fuck am I doing.” He covers his mouth as he got up. Frustrated with his own behavior, he digs his fingernails into the palms of his hands to suppress the urge to swing at your door or any other object in sight for that matter.

You get up just as quickly as well. Straightening out your clothes before shaking off the nerves of what just happened.

You take a deep breath followed by a shaky exhale as you opened your front door, turning around on your heels to look at an equally distressed Jaehyun.

He was about to speak; about to confess that he still loved you, but you stopped him by raising your hand, motioning for him to keep whatever he was about to say to himself.

Your eyes find his own and you take one last glance at the man that was supposed to be the pillar to your family. The man you used to call yours, and the man that you had hoped to still have a future with, despite everything.

But you knew better.

You knew what was right and you knew what you had to do before things would start to spiral out of control again.

You stepped aside so he could pass by you, trying to avoid eye contact all while you could still feel his burning stare lingering on your fragile state.

You swallow harshly, licking your lips before you spoke as clearly and steadily as you could.

“For the sake of your family, please leave Jae…and never come back.”

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

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not allowed iii, m | jjk, myg

pairing(s): jungkook x reader x est. relationship yoongi

summary: Your relationship with Min Yoongi, SUGA of BTS, is unlike anything else in the entire world. At this point, it’s almost like telepathy with how close you are. Still, he surprised you. Such as asking Jeon Jungkook to fuck you. Once. Twice. And this time Jungkook is waiting for you, with Yoongi.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship with Yoongi (and they basically have heart eyes whenever they see each other lol); tiny bit of angst; feels and fluff; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, voyeurism, f and m-receiving oral, fingering, m-masturbation, partial handjob, doggy, double penetration/spit roasting); idol!BTS; takes place after 2021 GDA, yup blond JK is best boy and kind boy

mentions of the pandemic because this is based on real time

–

You closed the door behind you and breathed out slowly. It was late, quite dark outside. Most people would be asleep by now. You unhooked your black face mask from your ears and pushed the hood of your black parka down, releasing your hair.

Ah, there was always stress and adrenaline to get here.

You had stated working again, so you weren't here every day anymore. You had to go back after all, if you wanted to keep your job. You worked from home most days and, with the current state of the world, now it was all the time. Still, you couldn’t take any chances. You made sure to get tested and have your results before coming here. Negative, so you were good.

You turned on the light.

A blond bullet collided into you.

"Oof!"

You had to plant your feet and brace for impact, and you still almost toppled over. You would have if it wasn't for the strong arms that encircled you and lifted you up, making you dizzy as you were spun around.

"Ack, J-Jungkook..."

You could feel your eyes rolling in their sockets. You were put firmly on the ground and still being squeezed to death.

"I'm so happy to see you!" Jeon Jungkook, the Golden Maknae of BTS, exclaimed, albeit in a hushed tone, but no less excited. "I was surprised when you said you could come today!"

You managed to blink your eyeballs back in place to see Jungkook's animated face above you, blond hair fluffy and bouncy from spinning you around. He wasn't wearing any makeup and he smelled freshly washed, as if he had taken a late shower. His brown eyes were sparkling as he grinned at you, showing off his bright white teeth. You hadn't seen his ash blond hair in real life yet, only on television.

You smiled at him. "Yeah? Did you miss me?"

Jungkook nodded quickly. "I wanted to show you my hair." He bent down and placed it against your nose. You could smell the nice scent of the herbal product he used. “Do you like it, noona?"

You chuckled. "Of course, I like it," you said fondly, nuzzling the dark roots of the blond locks. It felt nice inhaling his familiar scent, a comforting and clean one. "You're my lock screen."

"I've been betrayed."

You chuckled as you heard the raspy, sleepy voice of Min Yoongi, your boyfriend. Owner of said apartment you were in right now. The lazy center of your universe. The reason why you even bothered to run around in the dark. The reason why you had to match your schedule with the guard shift so the security that recognized you could turn a blind eye. Not all of the security recognized you, just the ones Yoongi had a careful and stem conversation with. That’s how it had to be.

All because Min Yoongi was also SUGA of BTS. Agust D. Lil meow meow. The softest fluff with the sharpest tongue.

You looked up to see Yoongi padding down the hallway in a black long-sleeved shirt and a pair of loose black pants. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, squinting, but with a small smile on his lips. Jungkook released you as Yoongi neared, your body automatically wandering towards him. You reached into your oversized parka coat and pulled out your phone. You had changed the outside once again, to a TinyTan SUGA clear case, to show off the multi-chrome purple finish of the BTS S20+. You turned it around in your hand and pressed the side button. The screen lit up, revealing your lock screen.

"Thanks for standing next to each other. It made picking a lock screen much easier."

It was a picture of Jungkook and Yoongi, standing on stage right before the 'Life Goes On' performance at GDA 2020.

"I missed seeing you there," you added softly, holding your phone tightly. It was weirdly emotional, knowing Yoongi was back. How could he ever think anyone was going to forget him? “It’s always better when the seven of you are together.”

Yoongi chuckled, fluffing the back of his black hair. "Ah, back to working hard once again..." he complained, but you could tell he didn't mean it at all.

And for you.

You wanted him to be on stage again. You wanted him to be busy again, doing what he loved, getting into nonsense in Run BTS!, looking cool in photo shoots, back to actively making music all the time. You were an independent person and you didn't necessarily need your significant other to always be beside you. For the longest time, you had even been quite comfortable with it. But the little while of Yoongi's sudden rest made you realize that it was nice to always be around him. To be somewhat normal, even if your relationship couldn’t and would never be fully normal.

And now you were disturbing his sleep. Now, not just his, but Jungkook's too. And maybe... Maybe that made you a burde–

Yoongi suddenly stepped up and tapped you lightly on the forehead with two fingers.

"Stop that train of thought right now."

You frowned and bonked him right back with the back of your hand. "What if I was thinking about dick, huh?"

"If you were thinking about dick, you'd be on Jungkook's right now, and then I'd be pulling up a chair to watch the show."

"What if I was thinking about your dick, hmm?"

"Do you even remember what my dick looks like?" Yoongi replied haughtily.

"Of course, I do. You painted the fucking Mona Lisa on my tits the last time I was here."

"Hm, you're right."

Jungkook was laughing hard behind you, the high-pitched one that came out when he couldn’t help himself. Both of you turned to see Jungkook with his arms around his stomach as he cackled at your bickering.

"It's like..." Jungkook wheezed. "It's like watching hyung fight himself and losing..."

"I’m not losing," Yoongi retorted, pursing his lips.

"You always lose."

"Because I let you win."

"That's true, because you love me."

You smiled cheekily at Yoongi. You thought he was going to give you his usual snappy comeback, but instead he leaned over and kissed your forehead. His hair shaded his eyes a little. He smiled at you, dark brown orbs sparkling.

I do love you.

"You wanna spend all night standing here or are you going to join me in bed?" Yoongi teased, ticking his chin at your sneakers.

You pointed to Jungkook. "Is he coming too?"

The laughter instantly left Jungkook’s face, replaced by nervousness. "Ah... I don't have to..." he stammered. "If you guys want to be alone... I only wanted to say hello..."

"He's coming," Yoongi said purposefully, ignoring Jungkook's ramble. "He's been waiting two hours to stick his dick in you."

"Hyung!"

You raised your eyebrows as you stepped out of your shoes. "I stated my arrival time in the text. Did you not tell him?"

"I told him, but he came right after shooting. Just in case you arrived earlier."

You smirked and tugged on Jungkook’s white shirt. "Did he tell you why I can only come at specific times?"

"I know, but..." Jungkook chewed on his lip. "Hyung said he would try and see if you could come more often."

You smiled ruefully as you took Yoongi's hand and followed him down the hall. You were still holding onto Jungkook's shirt, so you lowered your hand to take his too. He looked surprised for a second before you squeezed it reassuringly. The white with his blond hair was a good choice. You wondered if it was done on purpose. He was even wearing nicer black trousers, although his shirt wasn’t tucked in.

Was it for your sake?

"Ah, I don’t know if that’s possible. Don't want anyone to find out, after all. And," you added with a chuckle. "I don't want to get you in trouble either, Jungkookie."

"He's already in trouble," Yoongi laughed. "Taehyung caught him mumbling your name in his sleep."

Jungkook's cheeks instantly flushed. "I-It wasn't sexual!"

You blinked at him. "No one said it was."

He turned redder and grabbed your parka, hiding his face behind the big hood. "R... right."

Maybe you were being too greedy. Maybe you should have kept your mouth shut so Yoongi wouldn’t feel pressure to indulge in your fantasies. Maybe you were asking too much.

The sigh came out of you, heavy with self-doubt.

"Maybe we shou–"

Yoongi's lips were suddenly on yours, kissing you deeply. Your eyes widened as he pressed you against Jungkook's hard body, watching you through half-lidded eyes. He could sense your worry and perhaps he guessed your reaction. You hand reached back to hold onto Jungkook to prevent yourself from falling, but your eyes were on Yoongi, the one who knew you best, the one who knew that he too was asking a lot from you, the one who was trying to remind you that everything was okay. His dark brown orbs were telling you, we will take everything step by step, and his lips moved on yours, I love you. You mouthed it back with a smile.

Yoongi pulled away, the smile reaching his eyes.

"You're the most special person to me."

Your heart softened, hearing those familiar words from your current favorite song.

"I thought that was for ARMY."

Yoongi raised an eyebrow in mock distraught. "Are you not an ARMY?"

"Of course."

"Then it's for you too."

Yoongi was like that. He couldn't and wasn't the kind of guy to write you traditional love songs, but he gave you all sorts of other things. Small things, actions that seemed trivial or nonexistent to others. And maybe someone else would overlook those things, but you knew how difficult it was for him to show affection, even more so because of his job. To be honest, you were similar, showing your love in nuance and teasing. Also, you liked the treasure hunt that was Min Yoongi. And above all, most importantly, he listened to you, listened so deeply it felt like he knew what you were thinking.

There was nothing like the telepathy been you and Min Yoongi.

Jungkook was sniffing your head.

"What's this small?"

You almost laughed at his childlike tone. Yoongi smiled too, leaning forward and sniffing your temple, next to your hair.

"Oh? It's fruity."

"It's peaches," you explained as Jungkook parted your hair to sniff deeper, as if that was going to do anything. He was probably just trying to fuck up your hair. "I ran out of shampoo and they didn’t have my usual at the store."

You were suddenly aware that you were squashed between Yoongi and Jungkook’s bodies as they two of them were smelling you, Yoongi’s arms around your waist, Jungkook’s hands on your hips. Despite being fully clothed, the position was sending tingles up your spine, your breathing shallowing, tickling Yoongi’s cheek as Jungkook brushed your hair to one side, pressing his lips against your bare neck. You felt Yoongi’s lips on your jaw, kissing against your pulse. You whined a little, one hand bunching against Yoongi’s shirt as your other hand drifted down to Jungkook’s right hand on your hip, stroking his knuckles.

Yoongi reached up to unzip your parka.

“W-wait, be careful–” you started, but Yoongi shushed you, nuzzling your cheek.

“I will be,” Yoongi whispered softly. “That’s why Jungkook’s here to help me.”

You bit your lip as Yoongi unzipped your coat with his right hand, using his left to hold the placket down. He kissed up to your mouth as his hands slid into the coat, fingers brushing against the red flannel underneath. Jungkook’s lips were moving up to your ear, lightly nipping at the curve and making you shiver, chest bumping against Yoongi’s as your ass hit Jungkook’s crotch.

“I…” You shut your eyes, trying to concentrate as Yoongi sucked on your lower lip. “I don’t deserve this…”

Yoongi clicked his tongue, biting at your lip roughly. You opened your eyes to his disapproving glare, eyes dark from his lowered lashes. His large hands squeezed your waist.

“You’re not allowed to say such things.”

You felt the heat spread from his hands, pooling into your core.

“Isn’t that right, Jungkook?”

Yoongi ticked an eyebrow at you as you gasped a little, Jungkook’s lips on your earlobe, voice lustful and deep.

“That’s right, noona. Let Yoongi-hyung and I ruin you.”

…

Help.

Yoongi’s fingers began undoing the buttons of the red flannel, one by one. He was well practiced at unbuttoning shirts with one hand now. A skill that he had honed for himself and for you. He smirked as you noticed, whispering your name in a slow, purring drawl, deep and raspy, dark brown eyes watching you and drinking in your reaction.

Min Yoongi was scary. He knew how to make you wet instantly.

And then Jungkook did the same, breathing your name into your ear in his silvery low octave. Your hand on Yoongi’s shirt clenched and tugged him close, moaning into his lips, kissing him hard. Jungkook’s hand slipped out of yours and reached up to your shoulders, pushing your clothes down, revealing your bare skin. Taking them off you as your tongue slid into Yoongi’s mouth, his soft pants against your lips as your hips grinded into Jungkook’s crotch, feeling him harden at your closeness. Your parka and shirt slid to the floor as Yoongi pulled you forward, closer and closer to the bed, Jungkook encouraging you by smacking your ass with his hips.

Yoongi broke the kiss with a flick of his head, making you whine in disappointment. He chuckled, looking down at you with a devious smile.

“Jungkook wants something from you.”

Yoongi turned you around with his hands on your hips, colliding you with Jungkook’s hard chest. You gasped a little, looking up to see Jungkook chewing on his lower lip, bunny teeth flashing. The tiny mole under his lip bounced with his biting. His golden hair framed his apprehensive brown eyes, finally making eye contact.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” You tilted your head. “Do you want me to blow you again?”

Jungkook’s ears flushed red. “A-ah, n-no… I mean, yes, but…”

Yoongi snickered, unhooking your bra with his right hand. He lowered one strap and then the other, stripping it from you and tossing it aside. Jungkook’s cheeks tinged pink, eyes immediately dropping to stare at your tits. You smirked, placing your palms underneath them and bouncing them a little. You felt Yoongi’s fingers dancing down the small of your back, hovering around the waistband of your black sweatpants.

“Why aren’t you dressed like how you are on your Instagram?” Yoongi muttered behind you. “False advertising.”

“You have an Instagram?” Jungkook blurted out, still staring at your nipples.

You rolled your eyes even though Yoongi couldn’t see you. “Because someone would notice, obviously.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue. “Just one time…”

“Wait, how come I don’t know you have an Instagram?” Jungkook whined, hands coming up to settle on your breasts and squeezing them. You lowered your hands, gasping as Jungkook’s palms rubbed against your hard nipples.

“You never asked,” Yoongi answered, snapping the waistband into your skin. “Also, it’s private.”

“C-can we talk about this later?” you panted out.

Jungkook grinned and dropped his hands a little, brushing his fingers against your nipples. You moaned softly, your vision shaded by your lashes, seeing his mischievous smirk.

“Mhm, as long as you promise to show me after.”

You scoffed. “Sure, it’s not that interestin–” You whimpered as Jungkook pinched your nipples, rubbing them between his fingertips. “A-ah, Jungkook…”

He breathed your name, no honorifics, and your eyes locked with his. Fuck, he was so handsome with his ash blond hair, reminding you of when Yoongi had blond hair. Ugh, so fucking hot. You felt your sweatpants being shoved down your hips but you barely noticed, lost in daydreams of blond Yoongi and blond Jungkook.

“Can I eat you out?”

You were abruptly yanked back into the present by Jungkook’s request.

“Yes.” Fuck. You said that far too fast and far too needy. Jungkook grinned, removing his hands from your breasts. “Ah, I mean…”

He leaned forward, pressing his nose against yours. “You’re out of it today.”

You felt Yoongi’s fingers slip under the waistband of your panties. His lips were traveling down your back, kissing down your spine. You trembled slightly, swallowing as you stared into Jungkook’s dark brown eyes.

And you couldn’t help but think, was this really okay? Was this fair, for you to have both at once?

Jungkook tipped his head, lips against yours. He seemed to sense your hesitation. “I thought you wanted me?” His soft hair brushed against your cheek, golden rays blocking your vision. “Thought you loved looking at me?”

“I do,” you whimpered. “I love looking at you.”

Yoongi fingers pulling your panties down, down, liquid leaking out and clinging to the inside of your thighs. Your cheeks heated, realizing how wet you were.

“Then what’s the matter?” Yoongi purred against your lower back.

“Don’t… don’t want to hurt you, Yoongi,” you whispered against Jungkook’s lips. Your vision blurred and you blinked rapidly. Ah, why was the world so heavy all of a sudden? Why couldn’t you be calm as usual? Why couldn’t you roll with it as usual?

Because you missed them.

Them.

Jungkook kissed you tenderly as Yoongi stood back up, his lips pressed to your ear.

“There’s nothing like us. You know there isn’t.”

He was right, of course. There was nothing like you and Yoongi.

Jungkook pulled back and Yoongi’s right hand appeared in your periphery, his long fingers tucking Jungkook’s blond hair behind his left ear, giving you a clear view of Jungkook’s beautiful eyes, the unique shape, the rich brown color, the way they looked at you, as if he was afraid you were going to disappear. Waiting for the heartbreak.

“And there’s no one like Jungkook,” Yoongi murmured. “You want him. He wants you. Isn’t that enough?”

And Yoongi was right again. There was no one like Jungkook.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you breathed. “I’m sorry, but I really do want you so bad.”

“You can have me. However much you want,” Jungkook replied. Eyes locked with yours, meaning every word. He tilted his head, leaning in again, lashes lowering, breath against your lips.

“I want you to take it all.”

But Jungkook wasn’t the only one who said it.

Your eyes widened as you heard Yoongi echo Jungkook’s words right into your ear.

“Take it all,” Yoongi growled. “Take it and don’t hold back.”

Your name fell from Yoongi’s lips, your name, like a spark to fire, igniting you. There no one like Yoongi, snapping you out of your doubt, taking your heart and holding it tight while turning you on. You grabbed Jungkook’s white shirt and yanked his body to yours as you kissed him, inhaling his clean scent, his lips an addiction. And there was no one like Jungkook, because what both of you thought was just a crush, just a one-time thing, wasn’t. For some reason, you couldn’t stop and he couldn’t stop, hooked on the taste of his lips and his tongue sliding against yours, moaning into your mouth as you moaned into his, feeling Yoongi’s hands on your hips, pressing you into Jungkook’s clothed crotch, some of your juices getting onto his pants and staining them.

Jungkook pushed your head up, breaking the kiss and gasping, eyelids fluttering. He pressed your head back against Yoongi’s shoulder, kissing down your chest, running his tongue over your skin. You shuddered, head falling back down to watch him. Chocolate orbs to yours as he licked your left nipple, twirling his wet muscle around it, covering it with saliva. You whimpered at the dirty action, arching your back to press the hard nub into his mouth. Jungkook whined in his throat, closing his lips around it as you humped your chest onto his face. He sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks, intensifying the feeling as Yoongi teased your other nipple, pinching it and rolling it between his fingers.

“Fuck, Jungkook, fuck…”

Your thighs squeezed together, desperate for friction.

Jungkook released your nipple, licking it a few times, letting you watch the swollen nub get slapped back and forth by his tongue. You shivered, hips bumping into his. Jungkook’s strong hands came up to hold you still.

“Don’t waste it by rubbing it all over me,” he teased. “I want it in my mouth.”

You clutched his white shirt and yanked up, making Jungkook yelp with your force.

“Take it off,” you half-growled, half-whined. “Need it off.”

Yoongi chuckled at your impatience as Jungkook wiggled out of his shirt, throwing it aside. He looked back at you, blond hair covering one of his eyes, smirk on his lips.

“Better?”

Ugh, Jungkook was so attractive. The shape of his broad shoulders, his sculpted arms, the fucking tattoos that shone on his tan skin, the way his body trimmed down to that v-line. Your eyes roamed down his torso and then back up, licking your lips. Jungkook raised his eyebrows, completely aware of your staring.

“Yes. Much better.”

You took him by the shoulders and pushed him down to his knees. His eyes widened, stumbling a little as he knelt for you, hands coming up to grip your hips for support. You pushed his left hand away, hooking your leg onto Jungkook’s left shoulder and presenting your pussy right into his face. He gasped at the sight, eyes glued to your dripping core, lips parting wetly.

“Fuck,” he breathed hotly. You squirmed, trying to get into his face, but his right hand held you down, drinking in the image in front of him, left hand finding your ass and gripping it tightly. “You smell so fucking sexy.”

“Jungkook, please…”

His eyes flickered up to your face, half-lidded with lust, dipping his head down.

“Can’t resist you,” he mumbled. “I just have to have a taste of his nectar.”

And then his tongue on you, licking a fat stripe across your opening, moaning as your flavor invaded his tastebuds, his hand lifting your ass to tip your hips into his hot mouth. You gasped, pressing into Yoongi’s chest, your hands reaching behind you and gripping his slim waist. You had to tilt your body and lock your upper arms so you wouldn’t bump into his left shoulder by accident. Yoongi hummed soothingly, aware of your consideration, hands gently kneading your breasts as Jungkook’s wet tongue slid into your hole, witnessing your wanton expression as he sucked out your juices, adding a little suction, removing it, driving you insane.

“A-ah, yes, fuck, Jungkook, yes…”

When was the last time Yoongi ate you out? Months ago. Yoongi had a tongue unmatched, the perfect combination of speed, pressure, and technique. His tongue technology, one might say. Jungkook’s tongue was softer, less practiced, but he made up for it with enthusiasm and his intense gaze on you, moaning into your pussy. You slid down a little and cried out as his tongue made contact with your sensitive clit, his tongue pressing against it and swirling, sending shocks of pleasure through you, your thigh tensing against his cheek.

“Mm, yes, Jungkook, right there…”

Yoongi pinched and pulled your nipples. You snuck a glance at him, looking up, and realized he was looking down at you. His lips curved upwards to a playful smirk as he noticed your curious gaze. He tugged at your nipples, earning your soft whines.

“You moved down to put less strain on my shoulder?” he murmured fondly.

You nodded quickly, gasping as Jungkook sucked on your clit, causing you to roll your hips into his face. Jungkook grunted, digging his fingers into your ass, spreading you out under him. Fuck, his mouth was so soft and so warm, adding to your heat. Your hands worked into his hair, pressing him into you, his slurping sounds so lewd that your legs were quivering.

His eyes flickered to yours, pupils dilated, nose in your crotch, and, fuck, Jeon Jungkook was just so hot, on his knees and eating you out like a fucking buffet, his tattooed arm curved around you and your right thigh on his left shoulder, pressing against his cheek as your fingers curled in his blond locks, humping his face to add friction. Either Jungkook was inherently good at eating pussy or he had somehow rehearsed this and, considering his profession, you were guessing the former.

The Golden Maknae lived up to his name in appearance and talent.

You didn’t want to lean too much on Yoongi, so you put more of your weight onto Jungkook. He seemed to feel nothing at all, busy clamping his lips down on your clit and sucking harder. You sank your teeth into your lower lip, wail in your throat, squeezing your eyes shut as all of the sensations piled on you at once – Yoongi’s deft fingers playing with your nipples, Jungkook’s scorching mouth and tongue abusing your swollen clit, your hands gripping Jungkook’s soft hair and fucking his handsome face – and it was too much, all too much as your lower lip popped out of your teeth, moaning loudly as your orgasm radiated through you, throbbing waves rippling from your core as you came into Jungkook’s waiting mouth and chin, leaking all over his skin, dripping down his neck. He groaned, vibrating your clit, and you gasped, rutting into his face roughly, pressing your head into Yoongi’s torso.

“Oh, God, fuck, Jungkook, Yoongi…”

You weren’t sure if Jungkook was suffocating or not, but Jungkook himself didn’t seem to give a shit, cleaning you off with his tongue and burying his nose into your pussy, rubbing it against your clit. Your hips bucked at the sensitivity, your leg falling off his shoulder as you sucked in a breath. It forced his mouth to retreat, and you were greeted with the sight of Jungkook’s eyes slowly opening, his nose, lips, and chin covered in your glistening, viscous juices. He made eye contact with you, hand coming up to wipe it off, pink tongue sliding out and licking it from the back of his hand.

“Hah…” Jungkook panted, hungrily sucking up your taste. “That’s my drink of choice.”

You chuckled. “Sorry you can’t get it at a bar.”

Jungkook ticked his head, smirking devilishly. “I can if you’re sitting on the bar, legs spread open for me.”

Damn, what a visual. You straightened with the help of Yoongi, only for his right hand to close around your arm, yanking you to the bed. You started, bouncing slightly as you fell onto the mattress. Jungkook seemed amused, standing up to watch with interest. His blond hair was tousled wildly, messy from you holding onto his head. He smirked, lips dark pink from eating you out, the sharpness of his jawline standing out. But you couldn’t stare at him for long, because Yoongi plunged three fingers into your aching pussy, filling you up suddenly. You yelped, snapping your head to Yoongi’s dark, intense gaze, made darker by his black bangs shadowing his eyes.

“Y-Yoongi!”

He purred your name, giving you a teasing smile, tongue against the side of his pink lips.

“Mhm?”

“W-want…” You gasped as he slowly thrust into you, thumb knuckle rubbing against your inflamed clit, pushing his fingers in, your pussy clenching around them. “Want your cock…”

“Sorry, my love,” he murmured. “Can’t yet. Doctor’s orders.”

You furrowed your brows at him, raising your hips to meet his hand. “I’m beginning you think you’re enjoying denying me.”

Yoongi’s foxy smile implied just that. “What are you talking about?” He leaned down, tongue dancing between his teeth, snickering as you whimpered. “I’m not denying you. That’s why I asked Jungkook to come and stuff his big cock into you.”

You whimpered, biting your lip and snapped your legs closed, eyes rolling back into your head as you came all over his hand, soaking his skin and dripping onto the bed. Yoongi moaned softly as he felt your walls pulse against his fingers.

“Fuck, I love it when I can feel you cum for me.”

You shuddered, muscles tingling with pleasure. Yoongi pulled his fingers out slowly, groaning as he felt you tighten around them, trying to prevent him from leaving. He chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“Could you help hyung out, Jungkook?”

You shifted your eyes to Jungkook, who suddenly froze, the fly of his black pants wide open, hand down his black boxer briefs. Yoongi noticed your startled expression and turned his head too, both eyebrows raising. Jungkook’s cheeks tinged pink.

“Er…”

“Were you jacking off just now?”

Jungkook’s eyes darted everywhere except Yoongi’s face. “Er…”

“Show me, Jungkook,” you breathed out.

His large doe-like eyes shot to your body to on the bed, legs spreading, Yoongi’s wet fingers hovering over your quivering mound. He stole a glance at Yoongi, who jerked his head towards you.

“She gave you an order.”

“Hyung…” Jungkook whined. “It’s embarrassing…”

Yoongi shrugged, his fingers touching your swollen clit. You jumped, gasping as he rubbed in slow, large circles, stimulating it gently. The sensitive bundle of nerves throbbed against his fingertips, pussy clenching around nothing.

“Y-Yoongi, don’t, I’m t-too sensitive,” you panted, legs threatening to close once more.

“Keep your legs open,” Yoongi said sternly. “Let Jungkookie see.”

You gritted your teeth, hands twisting in the sheets, hips raising to his hand. “I c-can’t… You’re too good, Yoongi…” You had to lock your knees to prevent them from collapsing inwards, feeling him build his speed, eyes fluttering closed as you moaned once more, feeling the pleasure flood throughout, wetter and wetter, your slit opening and closing. You felt Yoongi lean down, his black hair against your cheek. Oh, fuck. His pine-scented cologne. Sex. Yoongi. You resisted the urge to grab his head and fiercely make out with him. He wasn’t fully recovered yet. His voice was that low, raspy drawl, arousing you just as much as his fingers rubbing your clit.

“Open your eyes and see what you’ve done to poor Jungkook.”

You opened your eyes to see Jungkook was closer now, right next to the bed, pants and underwear around his knees as he pumped his cock right next to you, eyes fixated on Yoongi’s fingers and your sopping wet pussy, his pouty pink lips wet and open, blond hair all over his face. The head of his cock was an angry red, veins popping out along the thick length as he smeared his pre-cum over the tip with his finger, hissing at the sensitivity. He seemed to feel your stare and then your eyes locked.

“Jungkook…”

Breathlessly, his name drifting out of your lips like smoke.

His dark brown orbs were nearly black with how blown-out his pupils were. He gasped your name out, needy and desperate, his chin lifting, hair falling back to reveal his lustful dark eyes as his mouth opened, pink tongue lolling out a little.

“Wanna cum with you,” Jungkook begged. “Tell when you’re close. Please.”

You nodded, sharply cut off as Yoongi assaulted your clit, forearm nearly vibrating as he pushed you to the edge, so close, so close that you had to chomp down on the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from orgasming right then and there.

“Y-Yoongi, he’s not ready yet…”

Yoongi chuckled. “Oh, I know.”

You whimpered, thighs caving in a little, but Yoongi growled deep in his chest, warning you.

“Don’t close your legs.”

Normally you would fight him, but this situation was different. You wanted to please Yoongi, give him everything he asked for because you knew he couldn’t get everything he wanted. Your core tightened, the pitch of your cries hiking as you tried to hold back, staring at Jungkook’s long fingers wrapped around his thick, stiff cock, black tattoos rippling on tan skin as he chased his climax, watching your legs shake with strain as Yoongi took you to your limits. Your wetness was soaking a puddle into the sheets, the scent of your arousal so strong it seemed to prevail all others.

Fuck, you couldn’t anymore, you just couldn’t.

“J-Jungkook… a-ah, gonna cum soon, fuck, Yoongi, fuck, you’re too fucking good!”

Your last words turned into a wild, guttural moan as you came, hips ramming into Yoongi’s hand, back arching, your orgasm pulling you up taut like a marionette on a string, thighs shaking as your pussy throbbed with release. Your juices dripped down like honey, splattering over your thighs and down your ass before you abruptly fell, legs crumpling as Yoongi’s hand cupped your hot, trembling mound, his heavy pants mixing with yours. He groaned softly, feeling your puffy pussy lips and clit flinch and jerk as the aftershocks rippled through your nerves.

Jungkook whined deep in his throat, splattering his cum all over your leg and on the sheets, hot thick strings that made you shudder as it covered your skin. He pumped it all out, emptying it on you. Surely, you couldn’t muster the strength to take a dick right now. But one look at Jungkook and his hand still gripping his cock, slowly, delicately stroking it once more, staring at the mess that both of you made, sweat beaded on his forehead.

Yeah, no, you definitely wanted it in you.

“Jungkook…”

He raised his head, ash blond strands soaked with sweat, wispy around his eyes.

“Want your cock.”

He smirked. “What do you say?”

Now. You resisted the urge to be a smartass. There were other ways.

“Let noona’s wet, tight pussy take care of you,” you purred.

The dominant spark in Jungkook’s eyes flitted away, replaced by his submissive doe eyes, his desire, his desperation. Fuck, it was so fun seeing that, the duality, reminding you so much of Yoongi and his softness juxtaposed with his sarcasm. Yoongi removed his hand, moving to the nightstand and grabbing a towel, reaching over to wipe Jungkook’s cum off you. You sat up, taking the towel from him as you noticed him leaning on his left arm.

“Ah, be careful,” you reprimanded, shooing him away.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes at you. “I’m not broken.”

“You’re not fixed either,” you pouted, cleaning yourself up. You made eye contact with him and he clicked his tongue, nodding. Yoongi was about to move away, but you grabbed a fistful of his sweatpants, pulling him back. He tilted his head, sending you an inquisitive look.

“I shouldn’t do any more,” he murmured. “I can just watch.”

You yanked the side of his pants down and Yoongi arched an eyebrow. Your eyes on his crotch, then back to his face. Your lips parted, tongue flickering out. He could put two and two together.

“You can do some things without moving.”

His gaze sharpened. “I’m going to want to fuck your face.”

Your lips curved into a smirk. “Well, you can’t. You’ll have to sit there and take it like a good boy.” You removed your hand and patted the pillows, grinning. “I want to get spit roasted.”

Yoongi sucked in a tight breath, eyebrow twitching.

“It’s not really a spit roast unless you’re the passive one,” Yoongi tried to argue as he tugged his pants down, getting onto the bed. You scooted down, feeling a hard, firm body come up behind you, hands sliding up your waist to cup you breasts. You moaned softly, pressing your ass against Jungkook’s leaking cock, feeling it throb against your skin.

“Need a condom, hyung,” Jungkook panted, exhaling in satisfaction as his fingers ran over your nipples, earning pleading gasps.

Yoongi reached over to grab one as you reached back, running your hand over Jungkook’s semi-hard length, spreading the pre-cum down the head. Your fingertip touched the slit and he shivered, whining against your neck.

“Noona, don’t…”

You took the condom from Yoongi with your free hand, wrapping your fingers around Jungkook’s cock as he moaned, tugging at your nipples repeatedly. Your hips jerked involuntarily, skin rubbing against the sensitive head, making him groan.

“Need you hard for me.”

You stroked him slowly, not too tight, not too loose, his warm cock throbbing in your hand. You felt one of Jungkook’s hands leave your chest, gripping your hand tightly around his cock. His cock swelled at the sudden stop, pressing against your palm. His lips touched your ear and you shivered at his voice, low and dangerous, almost feral.

“Oh, I’ll be hard,” Jungkook snarled softly. “Impossible not to be hard…” His other hand dropped, snaking down your stomach. You tensed up as he neared closer and closer. Yoongi cleared his throat and your head snapped up to see him tilting his head, observing closely with an amused smirk.

“Jungkook, d-don’t…”

“… In this pussy.”

And you moaned loudly, feeling two of his fingers slip down and spread your pussy lips, engorged clit poking out from your repeated orgasms. Even the small stimulation made you wetter, drenching the inside of your thighs as Yoongi’s hungry eyes watched Jungkook spread you open for him to see.

“Spread your legs for hyung,” Jungkook ordered, nipping at your earlobe.

You whined, opening your thighs and tipping them up for Yoongi to see your glistening, pink pussy lips forced open by Jungkook’s fingers, your walls pulsing with need. Your hand was still around Jungkook’s cock, holding his hardness as you watching Yoongi’s right hand enclose his already stiff length, licking his lips at this dirty display.

“Flick her clit, Jungkook.”

You cried out, hips bucking as Jungkook flicked your clit with his nail, releasing his cock and falling onto your hands, staring into Yoongi’s mischievous, triumphant eyes. The condom fluttered to the bed, dropped by the sudden shock of painful ecstasy.

“P-Please…” Too many orgasms, too much pleasure. It was turning you into a mess, taking over you, leaving you at the mercy of the two men, crawling towards Yoongi, ass up in the air as you went low, looking up at him, pleading him. “Need you in my mouth, Yoongi. Wanna make you feel good.”

Yoongi removed his hand, ticking his chin to Jungkook. “Ask him to shove his dick into you.”

You bit your lip, turning back and wiggling your ass, seeing Jungkook roll the condom down. His eyes on yours, sending shivers down your spine with his intense gaze and naughty smirk.

“Jungkook.” Even his name from your lips seemed to darken his chocolate orbs with lust. “Want your cock to fill me up.”

“That’s too nice,” Yoongi chided.

Your ears burned. But, well, desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Jungkook, please, please use my pussy to cum, fuck, want you inside me so fucking bad.”

He groaned, sliding up to you, gripping your hips, pressing his fingers into your ass, positioning himself right at your entrance.

“You sound so fucking sexy begging for cock,” he purred. “I just have to give it to you.”

And then he plunged into you, both of you moaning so loudly that the soundproof walls were saving you once again, so wet that your pussy squelched around his thick cock. Ah, he just felt so good, so hard and unforgiving, stretching you out forcefully. You turned back to Yoongi, lowering your head as he spread his legs for you, lifting his shirt as you swallowed his cock, eyelids fluttering as his taste was on your lips once again, invading your mouth, familiar and wonderful. You saw Yoongi moan watching you, cat-like eyes shrouded with lust, biting his lip as you sank down, vibrating his cock with your cries as Jungkook’s length fully entered you, his balls hitting your over-stimulated clit.

So full.

Oh, fuck.

You tried to say Yoongi’s name around his cock, hoping your eyes could tell him what you meant. I missed this so fucking much. His perfect length filling your mouth, smelling so good and so him, burying itself in your throat.

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathed. “Fuck, you look so fucking beautiful taking two cocks at once.”

Jungkook slid out a little and thrust into you. You whimpered around Yoongi, staring into his eyes, tightening your throat muscles as you opened your lips, tongue unfurling down, down.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Yoongi hissed, tipping his head back as he felt your tongue on his balls, his stiff cock throbbing as you rubbed it against the roof of your mouth, slapping his balls with your tongue at the same time, warm saliva dripping down and coating them. “Yes, fuck, you’re so good at that, fuck, I love you so fucking much, a-ah…”

And now Jungkook was really fucking you, hard, deep thrusts that shoved you repeatedly onto Yoongi’s cock. You had to retreat your head a little to prevent yourself from choking, but you didn’t stop licking Yoongi’s balls, his handsome face painted with pleasure, murmuring your name, praising you. You swiped your tongue from his balls to the tip of his member, teasing the sensitive skin underneath the head expertly before sliding back down. Up and down, stroking him with your tongue. Yoongi groaned, hips rising into your throat. Fuck, you loved seeing his normally serious face completely consumed by lust, loved the way he lost himself to you.

And, oh fuck, you loved the how you felt as your pussy was assaulted by Jungkook’s cock, stretching you out, pressing against your walls, filling you up as you squeezed him back, massaging all of him as he descended.

“Your pussy is so tight,” Jungkook panted. “Fuck, so tight and so wet, I love it so much, I love fucking you noona, you’re just so fucking good at taking cock.”

You withdrew your tongue from Yoongi’s balls, encasing your lips around his length and sucking hard, creating a tight, wet vacuum, Jungkook’s hips slapping against yours adding to your motion. Yoongi gasped, spreading his fingers on the bed, head pressed into the headboard. His dark eyes were half-lidded, watching your ass bounce as Jungkook fucked you onto his cock, forcing you to swallow him at a quick, rough pace.

“Fuck, I knew it would be good,” Yoongi breathed, gaze shifting to you and your eyes looking up at him, witnessing his satisfied expression. “Look at you. So fucking perfect, lips wrapped around my cock, Jungkook’s dick squeezed by your pretty pussy.” It made you wetter, knowing Yoongi was liking this, knowing he was aroused seeing you like this. His hand came up and tucked your hair back, fingertips brushing against your forehead. His touch made you whine, encouraging you to fuck Jungkook back eagerly, ass slapping into his crotch, bobbing your head up and down faster, tighter.

And Yoongi’s eyes on you, telling you everything. I want you, I need you, I love you.

I love you.

I’ll give you anything I can, because I can’t give you everything.

And Jungkook’s cock was twitching in your pussy, indicating he was close, his husky moans filling up the room as Yoongi’s own breathing shallowed, drinking in every detail, not wanting to miss any moment of you getting fucked so carnally, sinfully full from front to back, whole body shaking from the previous multiple orgasms. You could tell that he wanted you to feel so much pleasure that you were wrecked and it was working, oh, fuck, it was working as pleasure crawled to every fiber of your being, forgetting that your jaw and pussy were aching, forgetting your knees were basically jelly, forgetting you had any other responsibilities in life except making Yoongi and Jungkook cum with your tight, wet holes, so fueled by adrenaline that you rocked your body back and forth, stimulating both at once.

Your eyes locked with Yoongi’s.

Cum for me.

“I’m close,” he murmured. “Tighter. Choke Jungkook’s cock with your perfect pussy.”

You hollowed your cheeks and squeezed your core. You heard Jungkook yelp, fingertips digging into your ass.

“A-ah, c-can’t hold on…” Jungkook rambled, eyes rolling back, gasping for breath. “You’re so lucky, hyung, fuck, so lucky she’s yours.”

Jungkook smacked his hips into you, once, twice, letting out a deep groan as he came, shooting into you, cock throbbing against your walls as his balls slapped your clit, sending you over the edge as you whined around Yoongi’s cock, feeling it jerk in your mouth as he came down your throat, thick, delicious saltiness sliding down, pooling on your tongue, your pussy pulsing in time with Yoongi, drinking him as your pussy shivered around Jungkook’s cock, milking him dry. Your body shuddered hard, trembling from head to toe, the ferocity of your orgasm rattling you, so much so that it felt like the world was spinning. You popped your mouth off of Yoongi’s cock, sliding down against his thigh, wheezing for oxygen.

Yoongi’s hand instantly came up to touch your shoulder, caressing it tenderly. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, hot breath against his skin, knees sliding down, taking Jungkook with you because he also was at the point of exhaustion. Yoongi frowned at you and you gave him a weak thumbs up, cheekily grinning at him, wiping the spit off your chin with his thigh.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you thumbs-up me, woman, tell me you’re not dying.”

You leaned against his thigh, sighing as Jungkook pulled out of you.

“I’m very pleased,” you exhaled happily.

“I’m glad the god is satisfied with her sacrifice,” Yoongi remarked dryly, trying to sound annoyed but his affectionate smile gave him away. You smiled back before turning around, finding Jungkook on his back, chest heaving, hair soaked with sweat. You scooted down to him, brushing ash blond strands away from his face. His eyes were closed, pretty lashes against his skin, cheeks flushed pink with exertion.

“I… I can go…” Jungkook mumbled. “Give you guys some alone time and stuff.”

“Jungkook.”

His opened his eyes, brown orbs shifting to you. Apologetic, kind.

“Do you want this to be more?”

His lips curved into a smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No. This is fine.”

“Don’t lie to her,” Yoongi scolded, moving to sit beside you and glare down at him.

Jungkook swallowed, looking away. “I don’t… I don’t want to be a burden, hyung. I don’t want to ruin your relationship.”

“Don’t you think you would have done that already if that was possible?” Yoongi scoffed, placing his hand on yours, rubbing your knuckles.

Jungkook eyes flickered to your joined hands, then to your face.

“R-Really…?”

You exchanged a glance with Yoongi and he poked your forehead, exasperated.

“Have I not maybe yourself clear with you?” Yoongi grumbled grumpily. His eyes shifted down, letting out a long sigh. “I can’t give you everything. I can’t go on dates. I can’t kiss you in public. I can’t even hold your hand or stand near you outside this fucking door.” The frustration was clear in his voice. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and tell him it was okay, but you resisted, letting him get his words out. He turned to Jungkook, his dark brown eyes serious and sad.

“You can’t do that either, you know? It’s lonely. It sucks. You can only have moments like these, behind closed doors.”

Jungkook looked up at him, expression unreadable.

“Then why… why did you share it with me?”

“Because,” Yoongi started, eyes flickering to you. “Because I wanted to make her happy. Because I can’t do everything, but I can do some things. And because Bangtan is everything to me.” Yoongi was mumbling a little, not used to this level of emotion. “If I can maybe make you happy too, Jungkook, why wouldn’t I try?”

You could see Jungkook was also awkward because this was a delicate situation with even more complicated emotions, made more complex that they were two members of the same idol group, almost like brothers in closeness, held to the same rules and the same restrictions. Jungkook blinked rapidly, clearing his watering eyes. He looked away, hastily rubbing them with the back of his hand.

“Will it… Will it be less lonely if I’m with you, hyung, noona?” The younger man swallowed hard, clearing his vision and looking back up at both of you, brown eyes glassy. “Will it… suck less?”

You smiled, nodding slowly. “It would suck a whole lot less.”

Yoongi made a noise of affirmation, scrunching his nose. He was also blinking quite a bit, although he hid it better than Jungkook did.

Jungkook slid his right hand on the sheets, in front of your joined hands. Yoongi’s eyes darted about before he inhaled deeply, picking up your hand and plopping it on Jungkook’s, sandwiching it between the two larger palms. You pressed your fingertips against Jungkook’s knuckles, feeling Yoongi’s reassuring pat on the back of your hand, warmed from above and below.

Yoongi gave you his usual, apprehensive smile, as if he didn’t know what to do with his face when being told to look happy.

Jungkook grinned, bright bunny teeth flashing, eyes and nose scrunching with affection.

You couldn’t resist.

“Is this allowed?” you asked with a wide smirk.

Yoongi laughed, raspy and pretty.

“Definitely not.”

Jungkook sat up a bit, furrowing his brow as if he just remembered something.

“Wait, what about noona’s private Instagram tho–”

part iv “That's not allowed! You know what that does to me.“

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #yoonkook x reader #yoonkook smut #suga x reader #min yoongi smut #jeon jungkook smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #bts smut #suga x you

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toomanyrobins2 · 3 years

Text

Those Four Words Pt. 1

Summary: an escalating fight between Jason and his girlfriend leads to a tense two weeks in Wayne Manor

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: language, mentions of sex and excessive drinking, mentions of character death

masterlist // next part

Jason Todd was in a terrible mood, having just got into an argument with Bruce. He decided to go up to his girlfriend’s studio to get away. She had been hard at work the past couple of days and he was getting needy. He came up behind her on the floor and pulled her into his lap. She tried to wiggle out of his arms. “Jay, I'm trying to do something right now.

He tried to snuggle closer to his girlfriend, “I deserve some of your time too.

“Deserve? You’re especially demanding today. What did you do?” Jason scoffed and pulled away. “What has crawled up your ass?”

“You did.”

She managed to escape and turned to look at her boyfriend, “I did? Huh, I think I would’ve remembered such a disgusting journey into your body.

“Dammit, Y/N! Enough with the sarcasm! You know what I’m saying.”

She sighed at Jason’s attitude, “I don’t understand what you’re doing right now, but you are starting a fight just for the sake of an argument. I’m sorry, but I can’t give you what you want right now.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Jason was standing over his girlfriend, his whole body tense, “From any of you.”

“Why are you being like this? What happened?”

“What? You thought the minute we started dating all of our problems would magically disappear? Are you really that naive?”

Y/N put her brushes down and stood. She tried to walk closer, but he matched each step, moving away from her. “Jason, where the hell is this coming from? I thought we had got past this. Even you and Bruce are in a better place.”

“You think I'll ever forget you abandoned me. You all did!”

“Abandon you! What have you been smoking? We thought you died!”

“You replaced me!”

Now, Y/N was angry too and it was rare that anyone saw her this way. She was deadly calm, but the fire was roaring in her eyes, “I did not replace you.”

“That’s right, you were too busy whoring yourself around Gotham to even think about me.”

“That is not fair and you know it. I mourned you. We all mourned your arrogant ass. I never stopped missing you.”

“I saw the articles, Y/N! Don’t pretend you were mourning me. You were too busy whoring yourself around Gotham.”

Her mind went back to three years ago. Jason had died in an explosion set up by the Joker. She was sixteen and her best friend had died, and she hadn’t handled it well. What started as a way to get out of the house with friends, had led to this wild, secret life. Y/N had snuck out at night and used Bruce’s name to get into clubs. She drank anything she could get her hands on and had gone home with multiple men, trying to forget her pain. Once, Bruce had found out, her world had imploded. He sent her away and finally got her the help she should have received when her parents had passed. The only reason Y/N had moved back to the manor was that Jason had been found. She couldn’t believe that he was trying to use her moments of weakness against her, “How dare you throw that back on me. I was just trying to numb the pain. It wasn’t like I was celebrating the fact that you were gone.”

“Yeah, it really looked like you missed me.”

“God Dammit, Jay!” she stamped her foot, knowing it was childish, “If you would just listen to me!”

“Oh fuck off, Y/N! If I had known I was ever going to be stuck with you and your nagging, I wouldn’t have come back.”

“I wish you hadn’t!” The minute the words left Y/N’s mouth, she gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth. Jason’s emotionless mask slammed into place, and suddenly he was as blank as the day Bruce had found him. He turned to walk out and Y/N chased after him, “Jay, wait! I’m sorry!” He jumped onto his motorcycle and was out the door before she could stop him. She slammed her fist into the wall and cursed in frustration and pain. No one would see either of them for the rest of the day. Y/N stayed in her studio, wondering how they got to the point of shouting such hurtful things at each other.

The next day, they had both shown up for Friday night dinner, as was expected of them. Neither spoke, and the tension was too thick to be cut with a knife. Y/N had tried to pull him aside and apologize after dinner, but he had shot her with a cutting glare and stalked away. The other could tell that something had happened, but no one had the details. Tim wandered into the library after patrol that night, to find her in a chair tucked into the corner. “What are you doing here (Y/N/N)? Isn’t it a movie night with Todd?” He noted the tear tracks down her face but knew she hated showing weakness, so he said nothing about them.

“I wasn’t feeling up to it, so I canceled. I think I’ll head to bed now. Night, Timmy.” Y/N went to her room and cried herself to sleep, the guilt overwhelming her as she played the argument over in her head. If only she had just taken a break, maybe the whole situation could have been avoided. She woke up multiple times in the night, crying out Jason’s name after seeing him and the Joker over and over again. Finally, around 3 in the morning, she gave up on sleep and went to the kitchen to pour herself coffee. She decided to keep busy and started making breakfast for the family.

Alfred was the first to appear in the morning, as usual. Y/N tried to pretend that everything was normal, but nothing could be hidden from the family’s butler. He noted the dark circles under her eyes and the tremors in her hands from over-caffeination. The boys slowly started to emerge, and Alfred started to bring out all the food she had made. She made two plates out of habit and headed for the dining room. Y/N started to hand Jason his breakfast as she had every morning for a year, but suddenly she remembered and pulled her hand away. Jason didn’t even bother to look at her, and her heart clenched. She placed the plate on the table and walked back into the kitchen. “Sorry, Alfred, I’m not hungry. I think I’ll go paint.” She placed the plate she had made for herself on the counter and left.

Y/N’s studio had been a safe space since she had first moved into the manor. She had hidden away when she first arrived at Wayne Manor, unused to such an active family. Bruce had called workers to the manor and redid the room when she had told him she liked art. Now, after years of work, canvasses filled the room on all sides. Some paintings, others photos, she had accumulated in the three years. They hung on the walls and were laid across the floor. She flooded the room with Swan Lake, her sad music, and started to mix her colors. The music she played had become an easy way for the others to discern her moods since she hadn’t spoken to anyone except Fallon, Bruce’s wife, when she first came. Bruce and Dick had installed a speaker system in her studio to drown out the noise when she was overwhelmed, and everyone in the Manor could hear it if she turned it on loud enough. When the first notes hit their ears, all eyes in the dining room turned to Jason. He refused to look up and make eye contact, instead, he stared at the breakfast that had been abandoned on the table. Once everyone had averted their gaze, he pushed away from the table and disappeared.

This led to one of the most uncomfortable weeks in the Manor ever. Y/N barely left her studio and no one saw Jason for three days before he returned. When he did, he started to act as if nothing had happened. The music had eventually stopped playing altogether, so they had no idea what kind of mood she was in. Finally, Damian was the one to gather everyone else together, “Y/N/N has not come out of her studio in a week. Since Buckethead has just decided to pretend nothing has happened. We need to fix this.”

Bruce spoke up first, “Jason and Y/N are both adults. They are both being immature, and it will eventually work itself out.

“How can we fix this when we don’t even know what happened?” Tim looked up from his laptop, “I’ve been checking in on Y/N on the cameras. All she does is paint, and the most she’s slept in days is when she falls asleep accidentally. That never lasts long, and she cries. A lot.”

“Why did Fallon have to leave! We need to fix this, or the family vacation is going to be the worst!” Dick collapsed on the couch. Fallon had finally convinced Bruce that the family needed a vacation, but two weeks before they were supposed to leave, her sister had had a baby. She decided to go help her out and just meet them at the resort. They now had a week left, and it was not looking good. No one wanted to bother their mother since she very rarely took time for herself and was enjoying time with her family. They decided Alfred would be the one to try and convince Y/N to leave the studio at least and eat something.

He appeared in the doorway and watched silently as Y/N worked on a large canvas. He walked over and saw that it was a portrait of the family. “This is beautiful, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” her voice was hoarse from disuse.

“What is the plan for this one?” Alfred sat down next to her on the floor.

“Everyone hates photos, but Fallon wanted a family portrait for the sitting room. Since no one can sit still long enough I decided to paint one and give it to her for her birthday,” she slowly sucked in a breath, “Plus they only have the old one, and J--some people-- are missing from it.” Tears started to well up again in her eyes. Alfred wrapped an arm around Y/N and just sat with her for a moment.

“I’ve kicked the boys out of the kitchen. Do you think you could come down and eat something? For me?” She only nodded and they both stood. Y/N sat on a stool and silently ate the soup Alfred had laid out for her. She barely tasted anything, and she was starting to feel dizzy. Her vision started to blur, and the next thing she knew, she was waking up on the floor and had five heads floating above her.

“Hi, guys. Thought the floor looked lonely.” She tried to sit up but was cut off.

“That is it,” Bruce spoke firmly, “You are going to bed, and you are sleeping. I thought you were mature enough to deal with this but I see I was wrong.” He picked Y/N up and noticed she had lost weight. He carried her up the stairs and before he had reached her bedroom, she was already asleep again. Bruce turned to the boys. “At least one of you is staying in here with her and making sure she sleeps.”

Tim volunteered for the first shift and settled into her desk with his laptop. Y/N had barely been asleep an hour before she woke up from a nightmare of Jason dying. She shot up and shouted out his name, before bursting into tears. Tim -- being the awkward person he is -- was ill-prepared to deal with the crying Y/N. The only solution he could think of was to climb into bed with her and pull up a movie. She slowly fell asleep again and clung to Tim like a starfish. When Dick came to relieve Tim and saw that he was unable to leave, he climbed into bed with the duo. Anytime Y/N would start to become distressed, they would calm her down. Eventually, Damian and Titus joined the cuddle pile, the former somewhat reluctantly, grumbling about how he was only doing this for Y/N. Little did the Bat-Family know, Alfred had called Fallon and told her about the situation and she had rushed home.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #batfam #batfam imagine #batfam x reader #tim drake imagine #dick grayson imagine #bruce wayne imagine #damian wayne imagine #batfamily #toomanyrobins #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood x reader

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unprofessional-bard · 3 years

Text

Don't Push It, Pt. 2

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

First Part (2/2)

Based on this request.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Warnings: Age gap (the reader is 26 and Joel is 53), angst, sexual tension, then smut: oral sex (m&f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, biting, choking, dom/sub vibes bc the reader is A Brat, rough & unprotected vaginal sex.

Summary: It's been going on for years. They both know better than to act on their feelings, but patience starts running thin when a few boundaries are crossed.

Word Count: 7.275 hehehe

Author's Note: This turned out to be a pure self indulgent smut but oh well. I have no shame and no excuses for this.

Like before, this fic changes POV's a lot:

• ----R and below: The reader's POV.

• ----J and below: Joel's POV.

• ----B and below: Both POV's.

The fic starts off with the reader's POV.

Enjoy!

"Jesse..." You called for him, voice breaking and tears around the corners of your eyes. He was chatting with two other people, but immediately diverted his attention to you once he saw your expression.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He turned to you. You were pouting and chewing on your lower lip, refusing to speak, so he held your shoulders as he looked into your eyes: "What happened?"

You blinked away the urge to cry, trying to find comfort in the fact that he hadn't witnessed your interaction with Joel. When you shut you eyes, though, Jesse's right hand went to cup your cheek: "Come on- Hey, it's okay-"

"I'm gonna go home," You finally whined.

"Okay, let's go then," Jesse instinctively looked over to the door, but you softly grabbed his wrist.

"No, you stay..." You looked away, nausea forming at the pit of your stomach: "I wanna be alone."

"You sure?" You unintentionally leaned forward, lightly tripping on your own feet.

"Yeah, thanks," You finally let the tears go and a pair rolled down your cheeks. You don't remember being this embarrassed, ever; normally you wouldn't cry, but the alcohol fucked with you too.

"Aw, (Y/N)..." He quickly pulled you into a hug, pressing your head into his chest. "You're so not getting away with this. We'll talk about it tomorrow okay?" You just nodded and forced yourself to stop crying or, rather, stop yourself from making a noise. After he pulled away, you let Jesse wipe away the tears glistening your cheeks: "Would a kiss make you feel better-? On the cheek, of course."

You chuckled at his panic and nodded with watery eyes, then he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your wet cheek - a kiss you wished you'd gotten from Joel, it was a comforting gesture which made you want to cry more. Instead, before you let anyone notice what was going on, you walked out with rushed steps. The sudden contact with the warm summer air made you realise how suffocating it had gotten in there, the calm and quiet of the town easing your stress on minimal levels.

You furiously wiped away your tears as you stormed to your house, trying not to trip on your feet as you did.

How could I be so stupid? You thought and sniffed. Of course he was gonna reject me.

The feeling of nausea and embarrassment started to take over your thoughts, so you found yourself leaning against a streetlight, groaning: "Fuck..."

"Shouldn't walk back alone," A deep voice spoke from behind you. "Especially when you're drunk, as you are."

You turned around, fixing your posture as best as you could before realising it was Joel. Your worried expression turned into a tired and angry one when you saw him: "What're you doing here?"

"Lookin' out for you," He replied, stopping before you, keeping a healthy distance so he wouldn't invade your personal space. "Your boyfriend clearly ain't."

"The hell are you talking about?" You groaned in a hostile manner. "I don't need you to look after me..." You gulped and turned around, walking towards your house, which was around the corner: "I don't need you."

"Like hell you don't, y'can barely stand up," Joel growled.

His words angered you because how dare he mock me? Humiliation and ridicule riled you up, therefore you turned around and shoved him away once he was close enough: "Fuck off!"

"Keep your voice down." Joel spoke calmly.

You found yourself obeying almost immediately, the exhaustion mixed with embarrassment made your voice crack when you spoke: "Go away, Joel."

Your anger was superior at that moment, but you still -god fucking dammit- wanted him.

Frustrated, you were absolutely irritated by this man whom you wanted; you wanted to kiss him, wanted him to touch you, grab the undersides of your thighs and press you against the wall as he bit your collarbone... You managed to throw that away- if there was anything to throw away in the first place. Hours ago, when he 'helped' you with your stretches- he also showed up to the dance, even though he had said he wouldn't. He clearly liked you, but didn't he want you?

Why didn't he want you?

"Stop bein' stubborn and let me walk you home-"

"I'm not being stubborn, I just don't want you to... to..."

"To what?" He took a few steps in your direction, slowly. In truth, you didn't want him to see you in your current state. You were a mess, not your usual self and it made you want to get swallowed by the ground. "What, (Y/N)?" His voice softened and quietened as he used the side of his pointing finger to gently push your chin up so he could look into your eyes. "Say it."

Your eyes- glowing, beautiful eyes stared into his own. For a moment, you almost leaned into the small touch, but instead you pushed his hand away reluctantly: "Fine. Once I'm inside, you leave."

Joel agreed and watched you lead the way to your house. You ran a hand through your hair and huffed, slowly starting to lose your nerve in the meantime.

He was right with almost everything he said and had to say: You were struggling to stand up, had a killer headache with the urge to empty the contents of your stomach. The bathroom floor seemed like the ideal place to pass out on, the cold tiles would help you with the hot night air of Jackson-

You found yourself on your doorstep, reaching for the key to your house in the pocket of your skirt. Deep in thought and not all too displeased by his existence behind you, you almost forgot Joel was there. Trying to mask the sounds of your failed attempts at fitting the key into the hole, you spoke: "I'm here, safe n' sound. You can leave now."

Instead of replying, he walked up and lightly pressed himself against you when he took your key holding hand in his, gently squeezed it and helped you push it into the hole. Your breath hitched at the touch, heat gathering at your cheeks as he slowly twisted the key for you (you had lost function when you realised just how close he was). His chest easily covered your back, his scent somewhat invaded your senses and made you lean back before he opened the door. Your gaze lowered to the floor once he pushed it open and realised you had to reach the bathroom as soon as possible.

----B

Snapping back to reality, you marched to the bathroom in a few quick steps, Joel following suit. He closed the door behind him and once he reached to the bathroom door, just in time, he saw you drop to your knees in front of the toilet. Instinct taking over, he immediately walked behind you and collected your hair from in front of your face, then gently pulled them into a ponytail in one hand.

Fuck.

The nausea suddenly disappeared and got replaced, once more, with need when you realised what he had done. Your heavy breathing started to slow down as you two stood like that for a torturous minute.

"You okay?" Joel hesitantly asked, trying to catch a glimpse of your face. You silently nodded, trembling hands gripping the toilet seat harder, then finally pushed yourself up and Joel stepped back, keeping a hand hovering by your waist in case you fell.

Without saying anything, you washed your hands and splashed some water on your face, rubbing it as a means to sober yourself. Once you were done, you spread your arms to the sides and placed them on the edges of the sink, leaning down. You felt too awkward to look him in the eye, so, while burning a hole into the sink with your stare, you asked: "What are you doing here, Joel?" He was caught off guard. Before he had a chance to reply, you added: "What- I mean, you're getting off to seeing me all... miserable and- and humiliated? Is that it?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" He crossed his arms.

"You've mocked me quite enough, sir," You hissed, faking a different accent and pushed yourself off the sink. Joel took a step back outside to the hall when you walked towards him. "First you reject me, then call me drunk and then-"

"Please, look me in the eye and tell me you aren't drunk right now."

"Well, I'm not," You dropped your hands in defeat and let them slap against the sides of your thighs. "Not enough to not see what I want."

Joel's heart started racing at your words. He gave you an indecisive look, along with shock, lust and a side of shame: "I..."

"Why don't you want me?" You whispered, leaning against the wall behind you. Your expression simply laid between fatigued and trying-not-to-cry. Joel, on the other hand, was shocked. He had no idea about what he should say or do, so he gave himself a moment to recollect.

"Aren't you- I dunno, datin' someone?" He tried.

"What do you think?" You asked, as if you couldn't have been more obvious.

"Wouldn't you..." He tried again. "Shouldn't you be with someone your age?"

"Should?" You repeated, frowning, but you weren't angry.

"You didn't seem to have a problem with kissin' Jesse in there," He took a step towards you. "You should-"

"What the fuck do you know about what I should or shouldn't do?" You groaned. "Are you jealous? Is that it?"

"Oh, for god's sake," He turned his head away in frustration before looking back at you. His expression and voice softened: "You're so young, (Y/N)..."

"So? I know what I want." You stated and crossed your arms. You're so young and beautiful with your 30s ahead of you and you shouldn't waste your time on someone old like me. He was standing an arm away from you when you spoke again: "I know what you want, too. If only you'd stop making excuses."

"Why don't we let this go, hm? What do you want from me?" He lowered his voice, now deep and husky.

You stared into his eyes for awhile, then fixed your posture and straightened up, still leaning against the wall. Determined, you spoke: "You either leave me alone- walk out of that door and I'll be out of your hair forever."

Joel hated the idea as soon as he heard it, so he impatiently grunted: "Or?"

Your eyes flickered down to his lips for a solid second, then went back up to his eyes. "Stay. And kiss me."

There it was. The moment of truth.

Joel knew you wouldn't be so insistent if you didn't know he wanted you as much as you did him. He also knew that you had him where you wanted and that you'd also keep your promise about staying out of his hair- he didn't want you to, though. He'd hate himself if he broke your heart and even more so if he walked out of that door. So, with one last hesitation, his self control slowly disappearing, he asked: "Where does Jesse stand in all this?"

Yes, your mind screamed. He's going to stay.

"He's just a friend. He kissed me on my cheek, I don't understand why you're-"

"Cheek?" He asked abruptly, brows raising and eyes widening in unison. In his defense, from the angle he was sitting, plus the whiskey he'd been drinking, he was pretty sure Jesse had kissed you on the lips. The way he'd grabbed your cheek and the look of worry after you left hadn't helped either.

You chuckled: "Just admit you were jealous."

He didn't say a word, instead he just stared into your puffy eyes for a moment too long, then closed the space between your bodies. Before he knew it, he grabbed you by the hips and, finally, pressed his lips onto yours.

It was a little embarrassing, just how quick you were to gasp and moan into his mouth. He then pulled back, placed a hand on the side of your neck gently and pushed your head up with his thumb on your chin, wrecking you with one move. He looked into your eyes, then growled: "You've been drivin' me up the wall, y'know that? This morning, then at the dance..." He sighed, looked down and when he looked back up, he said: "I won't be gentle."

Was it that obvious that you wanted to be totally ruined by him?

You never looked anywhere else other than his eyes, too afraid that if you did, he'd disappear. So when he spoke, the words sending a thrill down your spine, you whispered back: "No one's asking you to."

If your legs were keeping you up to some level, they sure as shit weren't going to do that anymore because of the roughness of the kiss. It had a side of gentleness and professionalism to it too- had he kissed or made out with someone recently? Or even for once ever since he arrived in Jackson? He must've had, he was just so attractive and must've pulled someone into his web like he did with you. It wasn't his fault, really, but he contributed.

His tongue parted your lips and you let him explore your mouth, whining and moaning as quietly as possible. God, you thought, this must be heaven. The way he easily dominated you and made you weak in the knees probably made someone as confident as you look really pathetic, but you couldn't care less. He made you a dripping mess and him only, the rest wasn't important.

While his left hand was on your waist, the hand resting on the side of your throat wasn't squeezing but you wouldn't mind if he added a little pressure. The heavy breathing, your occasional whimpers and the promise of a rough treatment made your pussy ache with excitement - you could tell, by the hardness against your core and inner thigh, he was about the same.

For someone who practically sealed a deal to fuck you until you couldn't walk for the entirety of next week, he was still holding back. As much as it warmed your heart, it was your cunt that demanded attention at that moment: You decided to bite on his bottom lip; he pulled back with a groan, surprised and his hand flexed around your neck. Bingo.

The space between your faces wasn't even a span away, but he took his time to stare at you as you grabbed his right hand and moved it onto your throat slowly. Joel's breathing faltered at the sight: You, lips swollen, eyes a little puffy and your hand on his larger one around your throat with the most devilish smile across your pretty face. If it was even possible, Joel dived back into your lips with more roughness.

You started tugging at his belt as he devoured you, pressing his whole body against yours, making you overheat and feel dizzy. The sounds you were making seemed to turn him on more, his aggressiveness and movement speed increased whenever he felt your throat twitch under his palm.

To your disappointment, he let his hands go to aid you with his belt, but his lips stayed on yours. As soon as his belt hit the floor, however, he took his shirt off. He didn't even bother with opening the buttons and threw it over his head, tossing it to the floor. You gulped at how well built his body was, a few scars here and there and a decent amount of chest hair that followed a trail down his jeans.

Before you could faint at the sight, he immediately went back to kissing you; this time he moved to your cheek briefly and settled on your neck. A gasp left your lips involuntarily when he hit jackpot, sucking a hickey on your soft spot.

"Joel!" You hissed, or moaned, didn't matter- you pulled on his hair and stopped him. "No marks."

"Why not?"

Fuckingshitfuckfuckingdammit-

His tone was so seductive, so inviting that you couldn't fight him. The only reason you didn't want marks was simply because it was summer and you couldn't wear the layers of clothes and neckwear you wore in winter - it sure as shit was going to get questioned a lot and rumours spread around Jackson quicker than wildfire.

He didn't wait for your response of course and sunk his teeth into the crook of your neck, making you let out a rather pornographic moan. His naked body was on fire under your fingers, nails embedded themselves into his upper back when he sucked and licked on the spot he bit.

You wanted to scream out, tell him to bite you again, mark you everywhere and claim you as his, but as expected, you were too overwhelmed to utter a single word.

Joel then grabbed your thighs and pushed you up when you jumped. He trapped you between his hot body and cool wall, both sensations sent your body into a frenetic struggle, his soft lips nipping at your collarbones and large hands groping the backs of your thighs. You let go of him in order to remove your t-shirt with urgency, revealing your bra to him. He was quick to attack the tops of your breasts, sucking and biting there too. The bites weren't rough like he was trying to tear into your flesh, but there was just enough pressure to paint the skin purple.

You loved every fucking second.

"Fuck," You sighed, running your hands through his gray locks as he pulled your nipple out of the cup of the bra. "Oh..." The wetness of his tongue against your nipple made your brain short-circuit. "Oh, Joel-"

He grunted when you said his name, his cock pressing against your heat: "Yeah? You like this?"

"Fuck, so good-" You choked out when he spoke, nails digging at his shoulder and the back of his neck, making you squirm in his grip. After a moment, your other nipple was seen to the same treatment. You couldn't wait to see the rounds of teeth marks and bruises on yourself when you woke up in the morning.

Before he could do anything further, you tapped his shoulder and removed yourself from his hold, stepping on the ground with unstable legs- you immediately dropped onto your knees. The sight made Joel produce a sound between a grunt and a moan, his hand going to rest along the side of your face. He wanted to tell you that you didn't have to, but the way you eagerly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants kept him quiet.

You pulled his pants down, only to reveal his rather big erection straining against his boxers. The scene made you sigh, then look up when you grabbed him through his underwear; he leaned forward, pushing your back against the wall once more. He then pulled your hair oh so slowly into a ponytail and gathered it in one hand, then tugged your head back: "Don't tease me, girl."

If it weren't for your urgency to put him in your mouth, you would continue to tease him; his voice was dangerously low, threatening even, you wanted to see the outcome, but not today. You never broke eye contact when you smirked and pulled his boxers down, but you had to when his cock stood tall and proud inches away from your face.

You stared, eyes widening and mouth falling open (and quite possibly drooling at how big he was), Joel tsked at your expression: "Look at you, so eager for me."

You simply nodded, before licking the tip of his cock experimentally. He was, unsurprisingly, warm. His right hand clenched around your hair as he leaned the other against the wall. After running your tongue over his slit you finally took him in your mouth. A rough grunt vibrated in his chest and he threw his head back when you looked up, making you moan around him.

It was a struggle to fit all of him in your mouth, you saw it coming, but you forced your throat to relax so he could finally fuck it without further ado. After pulling back for a moment and taking a deep breath while working your hand on his length to cover for the loss of your mouth, you took him back in.

He hit the back of your throat, making you gag and instinctively pull back, but the hand on the back of your head stopped you and you moaned.

"Fuck-" Joel groaned and placed his other hand through your hair. He was slowly giving himself to the pleasure. You grabbed the sides of his thighs and braced yourself, letting him know that he can do whatever he wanted to. Thus, he started thrusting his hips with a slow but harsh pace. You did your best to relax your throat more and went as far as to brush your fingertips against his balls.

"Shit, (Y/N)," He hissed and picked up pace, the roughness easing up a bit. "That mouth- Gonna fuckin' ruin me-"

It was satisfying to know how much power you held over Joel Miller, but it was only a matter of time that he found out just how much power he held over you.

He pushed your head against the wall, anchoring you in place and gave you a moment to breathe, before searching your eyes for permission to absolutely ruin, or rather, destroy you - you just wanted him to fuck your mouth until you couldn't take it anymore (you were also sure that, even if it got to the point, you'd still beg for his cock down your throat).

He firmly pressed his hands to the back of your head to keep your head from hitting the wall and began thrusting his hips again. You had nowhere to run, he literally had you trapped and it turned you on so much.

His pace became rougher overtime and he began making you gag with each hit to the back of your throat. The noises were bringing him closer to climax and you were more than ready to have him spill his seed down your throat, but he seemed to have another idea.

A growl, gruttal, erupted from his throat and he pulled back at the same time. You panted, a thin line of saliva connected his cock to your lips and tears were gathered at the corners of your eyes, not to mention your throbbing pussy.

He groaned and held your chin in his palm, looking down at you while he breathed heavily. "So pretty down on your knees for me..."

You moaned when he leaned down to kiss you, not even thinking about the usual ew you just had my dick in your mouth I'm not gonna kiss you.

You sighed - What a man.

He was no boy, oh no. Joel was a man: Older, more experienced and was about to prove how he wasn't after just his own pleasure, that he also knew how to please his partner. He was also going to show how much your pleasure mattered to him and how much it turned him on to see you lose yourself in the euphoria.

He pulled his boxers up but stepped out of his pants which were pooled around his ankles, leaving his shoes with the bunch, then helped you up as he tasted himself on your tongue. He lifted you up again, making you wrap your legs around his waist while he carried you over to the table in your room. He carefully placed you on the hard, wooden surface and proceeded to take off your bra; you kissed his neck lightly as he did, which made him sigh into your hair. You then sucked a hickey right above his collarbone, which made him, quite literally, rip your bra off. You snickered at his reaction, taken aback by how harshly he threw your bra across the room. The gesture seemed to have awoken something primal within him: "What? You want another bite, sugar?"

You nodded, pushing your legs apart instinctively, your skirt doing a sinful job at covering you. He looked down to where you were inviting him, then looked back at you. Smirking, he lowered himself onto his knees: "I'm afraid I'll have to tend to the rest of your body another time, sweetheart."

You blinked and stared at him as he gently put your legs over his shoulders: "Another time?"

"Wouldn't you wanna... do this again?" He asked a little hesitantly.

"I..." Your dumbfounded expression stretched to an excited one, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'd love nothing more."

Joel smiled back, then turned his head to place a kiss on the inside of your right thigh after grunting: "Good."

You gasped at how good the scratch of his beard felt against the sensitive skin of your thigh. His kisses were wet and accompanied by occasional sucks here and there, until he bit down at the soft flesh.

"Joel- Ah, fuck," You tugged at his hair, but this time without the intentions of stopping him from marking you. You absolutely adored the way he knew exactly what he was doing and it was perfect.

He then followed the same path on your left thigh: Kisses, sucks and a bite on the exact same spot. You bucked your hips forward with a desperate, pathetic moan.

"What's that? You want somethin'?" Joel looked up into your eyes, slowly sneaking his hands up to entwine them with yours. "Speak up, darlin'."

The pet names were an ache both in your heart and pussy, so you spoke up, barely: "I need you Joel..."

The words made him stand up, your legs still over his broad shoulders. He leaned down, made your legs drop onto the crooks of his arms. He held them as he leaned further down until your noses almost touched, your legs and arms wrapping around his body: "Yeah? Tell me what you need baby."

"I need you to-" You stumbled on your words for a moment because, as much as you wanted to experience how it was like to have your pussy eaten by Joel Miller, you also needed his cock inside you - ASAP. "Fuck, Joel, I need your- your mouth-"

He interrupted you with a deep kiss, then pulled back and sat down on his knees once more, pulling your legs over his shoulders. You didn't stop a long and loud whine from leaving your throat when he pushed your panties aside and licked all the way from the source of your juices up to your clit. His hands had a hard grip around your hips, hopefully hard enough to leave marks.

"Joel..." You threw your head back lazily as he lapped at your juices. You put one hand on the back of his head while the other supported you to stand straight on the desk, your legs squeezing around his head lightly. It was the breaking point for you when he pushed your legs apart and pulled back, his beard glistening.

"Be a good girl and keep them pretty legs open for me."

Your jaw hit the ground, hard, and you felt your soul leaving your body right before he dived back into your folds. A silent scream hung on the edge of your mouth when he sucked your clit, the sticky noises making your legs tremble uncontrollably. You had a particularly hard time keeping your legs open, so when they closed around his head again, Joel swatted your inner thigh, making you jump up with a gasp.

He looked into your eyes, pulled back and spoke once more: "What did I just say?" You immediately opened up for him, spreading your thighs as far as you could, almost at a 150° angle. That didn't seem to be enough for him, however, so he grabbed your ankles and pulled you towards him until you were sitting at the edge of the desk: "Don't push it, girl. Repeat it."

"Okay!" You cried out when he bit down on your sensitive skin, harder than before, adding another mark right next to the first one. "I'll keep them open, I'll-"

He experimentally licked at your clit and with all the power and strength you could gather, you kept them open. After a moment, he pulled back, gently kissed the place he bit and said: "Good girl."

You couldn't do this anymore, you were so fucking devestated. It was so incredulous, too overwhelming, that you dropped yourself on your back and cried out. Half of Jackson must've heard that, if not your neighbour next door.

He started to kiss your thighs again, and between the kisses he spoke: "Look at you... So wet for me, so good for me." He sucked another hickey -you'd lost count at this point- closer to your pussy and growled. "You gettin' off to this, hm? Some old man eating your pretty little pussy up?"

He wasn't just some man, though. He was Joel Miller. It was Joel fucking Miller between your thighs, talking dirty to you, setting your cheeks, neck and the rest of your body on fire: "Yes, oh god yes-!"

Joel smirked when he realised he was finally getting to you, but hissed when he shifted and his painfully hard cock protested against his thighs. It was time to speed things up a little, even though he was really enjoying having you squirming under his tongue.

He calculated his next move for a moment, then slowly, pressed a finger inside you. However, he ended up retreating the digit when your legs snapped shut around his shoulders at the feel, and you realised the mistake you made a moment too late. You immediately stood up where you sat and he got up with you, clicking his tongue disapprovingly: "Alright, if you're not gonna be good and listen to me..."

He suddenly pulled you off the desk, carried you bridal style and climbed onto the bed with you in his arms. It all happened so fast you couldn't even process how you were suddenly sitting on the bed between Joel's legs. He settled down and leaned his back against the headboard, then pulled you flush into his chest: "Open up."

You did as he asked and as soon as you parted your legs, he planted his feet next to the insides of your calves, so that you couldn't close them. Your head dropped against his right shoulder and he was quick to pepper your neck with kisses again. His right hand sneaked down to your panties while his other hand kneaded your breast. You whined, eyes closed: "Joel..."

"That feel good, baby?" He whispered against the shell of your ear, then lightly nibbled on it.

"Yes, yes-" You spoke, feverish, then interrupted yourself with a moan once he inserted a finger inside you. You tried to move, but he immediately wrapped his hand around your throat and inserted a second finger.

"Oh no," He snickered, placing a mocking kiss on your cheek. "You don't get to have whatever you want, not after that show you pulled off." You wanted to respond, but his erection digging at your lower back and the fast come hither motions inside you making your legs tremble gave you a hard time multitasking. "You don't get to be all cute to me- then go kiss other boys. Oh, no you don't..."

You were overheating, malfunctioning and feeling dizzy, the familiar white hot pleasure tingling around the corner. You couldn't move- you could only sink your nails into the sides of his thighs as he fucked you with his thick fingers - two buried, pumping deep inside you and five of them around your throat did indescribable things to you.

"Where'd all that confidence go, huh?" He chuckled after he suddenly pulled out and you cried out, not speaking but physically begging to have him inside you. "You pissed me off a lot, you know- Fuck, n' I'm still givin' you what you ask for. You see what you do to me, sweetie?"

You nodded, a phantom of the word yes left your lips, then suddenly you pushed yourself impossibly closer to him when he re-entered with three fingers, stretching you so fucking good: "Oh Joel, please~"

He listened to you say his name over and over like a silent prayer as his fingers produced incredible pleasure and noises from between your legs. Each thrust of his fingers equaled a high-pitched gasp- he kept at it for another moment, bringing you closer and closer to your climax, then pulled out and unexpectedly squeezed the hand around your throat: "You think you deserve this, huh? After everything you did- Think you earned it?"

"N-No," You replied hesitantly, thrusting your hips forward as you did, which earned you a smack across your oversensitive thigh. "Fuck-!"

"Tsk," He shifted his hand upwards, turning your jaw more to the left so he could pepper your jaw with ghostly kisses. "I'm spoilin' you... Don't even know your place-"

"No, I do-" You switched tactics and tried begging verbally, but it earned you another smack, this time right on your pussy, which made you jump.

He cooed, rubbing your clit: "Who does this belong to, then?"

"You- To you," You gulped, breath hitching at the sensation, your bare shoulders tensing against his chest.

He smacked your pussy again, then asked: "Couldn't hear you, darlin'." As soon as you moaned another series of yous, he kissed your neck affectionately, then whispered: "Atta girl."

He took his time while he coaxed your orgasm out of you. A soft yet effective press of the pads of his fingers against your nerves and, with a series of profanities spilling from your mouth with moans, you came undone- saw the stars when he helped you through your orgasm and overstimulated you afterwards.

Boneless was one word to describe your state, melted was another. You were practically both, you couldn't even lift a finger when he removed himself from behind you and laid you down on the bed. The both of you were covered in sweat and panting, you almost missed the adoration in Joel's eyes when he brushed some hair away from your face. Your legs were still trembling, hickeys were showing their colours on your skin and he couldn't help but place the most gentle kiss on your lips, then replaced his mouth with his sticky fingers. He stood on his knees between your legs and extended his arm to your face: "Suck." You obeyed immediately, taking at first two, then three fingers into your mouth. You sucked and licked them, making Joel hiss: "We're not done yet."

"Good," You sighed, leaving his fingers with a wet sound and smirking at him wickedly. You wanted him to unload on you, punish you for misbehaving.

"You're a naughty girl, ain't ya?" He growled, snickering down at you as he removed your panties and threw them... somewhere. You nodded, regaining your energy, that bratty smile driving him crazy. "Get up. On all fours."

"And... What if I don't?" You smiled innocently at him, dragging your foot up the insides of his thighs. Clearly, your confidence started sprouting again and that needed to be taken care of. He stared into your eyes all the while, then hissed when your foot pressed against his clothed crotch.

Without saying another word, he suddenly grabbed your ankles, yanked you towards him and turned you around in a single second, making you yelp. He pressed his body on yours, putting his forearms next to your head and leaned in to your ear: "Oh, that's not how it works, princess." He placed a kiss behind your ear and pulled you up by your hips, pressing on the back of your neck so you stayed down while he raised your ass up, arching your back. Your skirt, once more, sinfully and barely covered your ass and Joel moaned at the sight, then yanked his underwear down, a hand ghosting over your ass: "I'm gonna make sure," He grunted as he pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, then traced it up and down, coating it with your juices. "That you forget your name after we're done." He started to push in, slowly as he didn't want to cause you any discomfort. "But you'll still remember who you belong to."

"Ah~" You moaned, grabbing his hips as he pushed in. The promise of having your insides rearranged sounded too good to be true, but there you were, Joel's cock inside you and making you lose your mind. He stopped when he finally had his cock completely buried in you. "You're so- So, oh- So big-"

"Hm? Does it feel good?" His voice strained as he did his best to wait for you to adjust.

"So good, Joel- Feels so fucking good," You were practically crying at that point, without tears that was. You noticed how his behaviour changed when you responded to him, when you behaved like his good girl.

"Yeah?" He began moving very slowly, eyes closed, struggling to keep his posture. "Good-" He groaned, then removed your hands from his thighs and brought them together behind your back. He took your wrists in one hand, pressed them against your waist and started fucking you. His hips snapped against your ass and the backs of your thighs, the noises that came out as a result were absolutely amazing.

His thrusts were precise: For someone who had a hard time controlling himself, he had incredible control over his body while he fucked you into the mattress, setting fire to your insides once more.

It wasn't long before he brought you to the edge again, bringing down a few smacks down your ass here and there, making you gasp and push your hips down on his cock. However, the start of your unravelling was triggered when he grabbed a fistful of your hair. He didn't yank on it, but he held your head off the pillows and made you cry out: "Fuck!"

"You like this, sweetheart?" He growled when you clenched around him. "So tight- Goddamn-"

You wish you could say you were embarrassed when you let out another high-pitched moan- a sound you didn't know you were capable of making. Suddenly he turned you around and pushed you on your back, grabbed your thighs, hooked them over his own, then sunk into you again. He didn't move, though, which made you look up with a devastated expression, only to find him snickering at you: "Look at you..."

You sighed, pushing yourself up and down, telling him to start moving, but a hand around your throat had you paralysed on spot: "So pretty with my cock in your tight little cunt." You moaned and gripped his biceps which looked delicious under the moonlight: "You want me to fuck you, huh baby?"

"Yes, yes Joel-" You nodded furiously, thighs trembling around his waist. He started rocking into you again, making you look into his eyes as he did.

"You wanna know what it feels like when a man makes you cum?" He gritted his teeth and picked up pace, going deeper.

"Yes!" Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, your juices leaking out of your pussy. "Please fuck me Joel-!"

You couldn't tell if it was a moan or a shout that came out of Joel's mouth (as well as yours), but it clearly had magical effects as you felt a second wave of orgasm wash over you. His hand around your throat joined the other on your hips, with a bruising grip that you already came to love.

He suddenly pulled out and a second later, had his seed spilling on your abdomen. He clearly waited for you to finish first, which made your heart do a few flips. He slowly lowered himself on top of you as he panted, a hand resting on the side of your head, caressing it gently. Your hand instinctively went through his hair and held him there, too shocked to actually say anything, legs trembling occasionally.

"Shit..." He finally sighed and dragged his head off your chest and looked into your eyes. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

It took you second to process what he asked. You blinked and nodded, eyes glowing and beaming at him: "I'm okay- No, you didn't hurt me, I'm fine. I really..."

"What?" He offered a small smile and moved his hand onto your cheek, noticing how you were suddenly shying away. "You liked it?"

You nodded once more, smile turning mischievous: "I did." You then slowly pushed on his chest: "Very much..." His heart started beating faster the second his back met the mattress and you straddled his hips. The short amount of time it took your insides to start coiling with desire again excited you. Joel was about the same- A simple motion such as getting on top of him, rubbing your wetness on his skin almost immediately had his softening member fully hard again. "We're not done yet, are we?"

There wasn't any indication that you were taking over as far as Joel could tell, but after what you both did, you were full of surprises in his eyes: "No, we're not sweetheart." You flashed your teeth at him before taking him in hand and pumping him a few times, feeling him grow larger in your palm. He growled and grabbed your hips, then slammed you down on his cock, making you moan loudly: "Oh, we're not done, alright."

You put your hands on his chest to get some sort of support, but didn't move, expecting him to start thrusting up into you. He didn't, though, so you gave him a quizzical look. Before you could ask what was wrong, his hands slowly began moving down your thighs.

"Go on," He groaned. "Show me what you got."

Your brain, once again, short-circuited but Joel made sure to snap you back to reality- literally. He snapped his hips up and the force made you let out a short squeal, immediately putting you to work.

The moment you started rocking your hips back and forth, the grip he had on your thighs tightened. You purposefully put your arms closer together so that your breasts pressed against one another, and the noises you made with your skirt still around your waist - the sight made him throw his head back on the pillows and had a moan escaping his throat. You started moving faster, which made him hold your waist with one hand and smack your ass with the other, making you jump forwards.

"Such a good girl," He praised. "Fucking yourself on my cock like this-"

The dirty talk shot right through to your clit and your movements faltered, your thighs squeezing around his hips. Something feral and raw poked its head out from its hiding spot, hidden amongst your fantasies, so you picked up pace but not without grabbing his wrists and slamming them above his head, keeping them there as you rode him.

Joel was, once again, surprised at the sudden move, but he allowed you to chase your pleasure for a while. He closed his eyes and focused entirely on the motion of your hips and the tightness of your cunt.

It felt so good.

To finally have you for himself- it still came with a side of guilt, but he simply couldn't bring himself to care. You wanted this, you needed him and you told him, this wasn't some stupid dream or his late night thoughts: This was quite real.

Not for too long, though. He was almost lost in the pleasure when he noticed your hand going down to your clit.

Your cries came to an abrupt halt when he suddenly wriggled his hands out of your grasp and had one wrapped around your throat, the other holding the hand on your clit behind your back. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly: "So eager to cum, are you? To fuck me over, huh?"

"Yes," You moaned, even though you weren't sure what he truly meant by fucking him over. "Only you- Only for you-"

The words made Joel's hips thrust up, touching a new spot deep within you, then set a brutal pace. You could only hold onto his forearm below your throat as he fucked you and stimulated that spot.

"Who does this belong to?" He asked, pressing a thumb right onto your clit, bringing you to the very edge.

"You, Joel," Your now free hand pressed on his thumb to move it, but he was quick to swat your hand away.

"Who do you belong to?" He growled and lowered you closer to him.

"You- I belong to you," You whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks. "Please, l-let me cum..."

"Such a good girl, ain't you?" He kissed your cheek and picked up the brutal pace as if he hadn't stopped in the first place. You couldn't take it anymore, so you let go.

No one had made you come like Joel Miller did, thrice in the same night.

With a final gruttal groan, he thrusted his cock deep inside you and spilled his seed, the exhaustion and the feeling knocking you on your face on his chest. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, thrusted a few more times and went incredibly still, save for the panting.

"That was... so fucking good..." You breathed and made Joel's chest tremble with a brief laugh.

"Oh sugar," He placed an affectionate kiss on your forehead. "You're gonna be the death of me."

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hangovercurse · 3 years

Text

Loveless

Rook realizes he made a major mistake, but is it too late to win you back?

Rook Cappelletty x reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: I wrote this while listening to Loveless by PVRIS

Word Count: 2439

You and Rook had been all over each other all night, as per usual. Ever since you’d met a few months ago, you had been attached at the hip. You couldn’t call what you were doing a relationship, because you’d never really talked about it, you were just kind of hooking up… exclusively. And making out at parties, and clubs, and anywhere else where you ended up together. Rook wasn’t exactly the settle down type, and everyone knew it, which was why everyone was shocked when he asked you to join the last leg of their tour with Young Thug.

You didn’t know what to make of it at the time, but you went with it, spending 2 weeks traveling with the crew and spending almost every waking second with Rook. It was a nice fairytale to live in for a little while, and you could almost convince yourself that maybe he harbored the same feelings for you that you felt for him.

You guys were out at a club in LA, celebrating the final show of the tour. Rook had his hands and lips on you almost all night, and you were loving every second of it. “Babe, I gotta pee.” You mumbled as his lips pressed sloppy kisses down your neck. He groaned, continuing his path. “I’ll only be gone for like 2 minutes.”

“Fine.” He stood back up, letting you go, “But hurry up, I’m gonna miss you.” You rolled your eyes, turning to walk towards the hallway when he grabbed your hand and spun you around. His lips moved against yours in a very hot kiss.

You smiled against his lips, reaching your hands to his chest, and gently pushing him away. “I’ll be right back.”

The line ended up being longer than you expected, though you shouldn’t have been surprised. 10 minutes after you left him, you returned to where your date had been standing, only to find him missing. You searched the room, only to find no sign of him anywhere. You did, however, spot the 6’4” lanky giant that was his best friend, so you made your way through the club to him. “Kells, have you seen Rook?” You yelled over the music.

Colson shrugged, looking over the crowd for the brown-haired boy. You saw his eyebrows furrow in confusion and he looked down at you. “It might be better if I tell you I didn’t see him.” Colson shouted back to you.

“What does that mean?” You asked, looking behind you and standing on your tiptoes. Your question was answered when you saw his tongue shoved down another girl’s throat. Suddenly your good mood faded, and your throat went dry. You fought the sting behind your eyes and sighed, turning back to Colson. “Never mind.”

He looked at you with pity in his eyes, “Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged, “It’s whatever. I mean it’s not like we’re together.” You tried to hide the fact that you were dying inside.

“Right…” Colson trailed off, obviously not believing you.

“I’m gonna get going, I’ll see you later.” He nodded, pity still in his eyes. You squeezed through the crowd of people and finally got out the door. You ordered an uber while you leaned against the building, taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart. You couldn’t get the image of him with another girl out of your head. You felt so utterly stupid.

The next day you were laying on your couch, watching old TV shows on Netflix and trying to ignore the clawing in your heart. A knock on your door pulled you away from the TV, and you paused the episode. You weren’t expecting JP Cappelletty to be standing at your door, a smile on his face. “I’m bored.”

You tried your best not to scoff and roll your eyes, but the annoyance on your face was obvious. “I’m busy.”

His eyebrows furrowed, arm reaching to grab your waist. “What’s wrong, babe?”

You pushed his arm off of you, moving away from him. “Nothing. Don’t call me babe.” Your hand grabbed the edge of the door. “Look, J, I’m really busy right now.”

“Yeah, really looks like it.” He said, sarcastically, as he looked past you to see the TV. “Y/N what’s up?”

You let out an annoyed sigh as he took another step closer to you. “Why are you here?”

You saw the confusion in his eyes, “because I wanna hang out with you. We haven’t really gotten to be alone in like 2 months, we were on the tour bus whenever you were with us.” His hands reached to grab yours, but you pulled them towards your stomach and out of his reach.

You rolled your eyes, “we could’ve been alone last night but you were busy.” There was definitely venom in your voice, but Rook didn’t seem to understand why.

“Yeah, but I’m not busy right now.” He smiled, and you scoffed in disgust. “What?” He asked as if he couldn’t grasp why you were upset.

“Are you serious right now?” You asked, studying him as he shrugged. “Okay, JP. I need to know what I am to you, because I thought we were one thing but apparently I’ve got it all wrong.”

You really didn’t understand his confusion at the question, “We’re friends? I don’t know. I like messing around with you, I guess.”

You bit your tongue to hide the pained expression on your face. “God I’m such a fucking idiot.” You mumbled under your breath, walking away from him.

“Y/N, come on? You didn’t think this was a serious thing, did you?” He asked, as if you were the one in the wrong.

You turned to look at him, glaring at him. “You think I wouldn’t think this was serious? You brought me on tour for fuck’s sake, Rook! You don’t invite the person you’re screwing around with on tour if you’re not at least a little serious about it.”

“Y/N its really not that big of a deal.” His face was emotionless, and you were convinced that he had no emotions.

“Maybe not for you, Rook, but it was everything for me.” You were trying really hard not to cry.

He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head at your pathetic image. “You know I’m not like that, I don’t do the whole commitment thing.”

“Yeah, clearly.” You ran a hand through your hair. “Just get out.”

“What? Why?”

“Because, you asshole, I fell in love with you and you couldn’t give two shits. I’m done. Go fuck around with someone else.” You pushed him towards the door, tears starting to fall down your face. You felt utterly humiliated.

Rook stood in the doorway, studying you. “What did you think was gonna happen? You’d change me? I was gonna just magically fall in love with you? You’re smarter than that.”

You glared at him, watching as he walked away, closing the door behind him.

A month and a half later you found yourself at a house party thrown by none other than Machine Gun Kelly himself. Even though you hadn’t spoken to Rook, Colson had checked in on you every so often, making sure you were okay.

And you were, surprisingly. You realized that it was probably for the best that you had cut ties with Rook, even if it hurt. You could finally move on with your life and find someone who actually wanted you and only you. It’s a lot easier said than done.

But when Kells invites you to a party, you can’t exactly turn him down. So, there you were, standing in his living room with a drink in your hand talking to a guy you’d just met. He seemed pretty cool, and he wasn’t Rook, so you figured you’d see where it went.

It was going nowhere, but once you felt Rook’s eyes on you, you faked interest in the man, if only to get his attention off of you. You were an hour deep into a conversation at this point, and your glass was empty. “I’m gonna go get a drink.” It was almost like he read your mind. “I’ll grab you another, if you want.”

You nodded, “thanks.” He made his way to the bar, leaving you alone in the middle of the crowded room. Not 3 seconds after he left was he replaced with your ex-fling.

“Y/N, I didn’t know you were gonna be here.” He looked you up and down, taking in every detail of your all too familiar body.

You flashed him an uncomfortable smile, “yeah, Kells invited me.”

“Who’s the guy?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.

“No offense, Rook, but fuck off.” You sighed.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “It was an innocent question, fuck.” You let out a dry, angry, laugh. “Seriously, I was just asking.”

“It’s none of your business anymore.” You really wished you had a drink in your hand right now.

Rook’s face fell, and you almost dropped your cold façade. “I know, I just. I miss you.”

And it came back up again. “You don’t get to miss me. You never wanted me in the first place.” A few weeks ago, you could never had said everything you’d been thinking since that day, but now you realized just how fucked up what he had done was.

“That’s not true.” He muttered, a serious expression on his face.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Look, it was fun, but I’m over it, I’m over you. You could never give me what I need, anyways.”

You started to turn to walk towards the bar, wanting your drink, but he grabbed your wrist softly. “I did want you. I do want you. I didn’t realize it then because I’m an idiot, but I think I love you.”

You shook your wrist out of his grasp, blowing a quick breath out of your nose. “No, you don’t. Rook, you don’t know how to love.”

“I can learn, I will learn. For you. I’m gonna be better, I swear.”

“You don’t have the capacity to love anyone but yourself. You’re a loveless person.”

Satisfied with that, you turned and left him standing there, gazing after you with a lost look in his eyes.

You realized as soon as you walked away that you didn’t really mean what you said. Truthfully, you were still hurting, and seeing him made it worse. But you couldn’t apologize. You needed him to think you really felt that way, so he wouldn’t chase after you.

That plan didn’t work, which was apparent when JP showed up at your door, a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a butterfly squishmallow.

“I know I majorly fucked things up with you and you have every right to never want to see me again. But I’m not giving up on you. You are the only girl I’ve ever felt this way about. Like, seriously, you make me wanna settle down and be a better person, and I realized last night that I might never feel this again.” He had a whole speech and everything, and you could tell he put a lot of thought into this.

“Come in,” you whispered, leading him inside your house. You pulled out a vase to set the flowers in, placing them in the center of your small living room. You then grabbed his hand and pulled him to sit on your couch, the stuffed animal still in his arms.

“Y/N, I really meant it when I said I’m in love with you.” His voice was soft and he could barely meet your eyes. He was really nervous.

You bit your bottom lip, smiling. “You really planned this out, huh?”

He chuckled, looking down at the small butterfly in his hand and then placing it in your lap. “Yeah. I heard you and Ashleigh talking about these things a while ago. Kinda have had it for a while, but I was scared you would think it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, it’s sweet.” You tilted your head, admiring him.

“You would not believe the stares I got when I was buying this. It was like no one had ever seen a guy with tattoos buying a stuffed animal before.” He chuckled, finally looking up to meet your eyes. “But it was worth it.”

You blushed, you two were quiet for a moment as you tried to sort out your thoughts. “I was really hurt.” You whispered, “when you said that we weren’t serious. And it’s not your fault, I just misread things, but I couldn’t be around you after that.”

He nodded, “It is my fault, though. You were right, people don’t bring other people on tour if they’re not serious about them. I led you on, and you had every right to kick me out.” You let out a soft sigh, relieved he was admitting some responsibility. “But I realized that I was so much better when I was around you, once I couldn’t be around you anymore.”

“I just wish it didn’t take me kicking you out for you to realize that.” You looked down at the blue plushie in your hands.

He was quiet for a while, studying you. “You can flip it inside out and it becomes a different animal.”

You chuckled, “yeah, it becomes an axolotl.”

He nodded, a smile on his face. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

His statement brought a blush to your cheeks. “Shut up.” You giggled, reaching up to push his chest lightly. He grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers.

“I’m serious. You’re literally perfect.” He pulled you closer to him, leaning towards you so your faces were inches apart. “I never thought I would feel this way about anyone, but I am really, really in love with you.”

You took in a small breath at his words, processing them before you leaned closer to him, closing the gap between you. His lips moved effortlessly against yours, the hand not holding yours reaching up to lightly touch your jaw. When you finally pulled away, you rested your nose against his. “I’m really, really in love with you, too.” You whispered, a smile on your face.

He leaned forward to capture your lips in his again, both of you smiling into each other. “Just because I forgive you doesn’t mean you’re done making this up to me.” You giggled.

“No? And what else could I do to make this better, princess?” He whispered; sarcasm laced in his voice.

“I could think of a few things…” You trailed off, a giggle leaving your lips.

#rook cappelletty #Rook Cappelletty imagine #Rook Cappelletty x reader #jp cappelletty #jp cappelletty imagine #rook #rook angst #rook imagine

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chosetherose · 3 years

Text

Submission:

Mr Perfectly Fine

So I've seen a lot of theories about Mr Perfectly Fine. I think we all have. The official narrative is that it's another song "about" Joe J*nas. Gaylors think it's about Taymily. I've even seen the argument that "Mr Always Wins" is Taylor throwing shade at current beard Joe Aly*n. (Which I can definitely see, tbh. This is Miss "and you poke that bear, Taylor Kloss come out" TS we're talking about. She's no stranger to sneaky wordplay.)

But I was listening today and another idea hit me, which I haven't seen anyone talk about so far.

I wonder if Mr Perfectly Fine is a song about Scott B*rchetta? Specifically, about the Fearless era, when Taylor was "encouraged" to let Emily go for the sake of her career. We can all guess who would have been behind the encouraging.

Obviously MPF is like most of the vault tracks on Fearless TV. It's been reworked from Taylor's current point of view, so I wouldn't be surprised if she's angry about more than just the Taymily situation when she sings it now. But it does really fit for that. All you really have to do is change the lyric "I've been Miss Misery since your goodbye" to "I've been Miss Misery since HER goodbye" and boom, you have a song in which "he" isn't the lover but the outside influence who was instrumental in breaking Taylor's heart. If you've ever read Jane Austen's Persuasion, just imagine Taylor as Anne, Emily (and her other girlfriends) as Captain Wentworth, and Scott as Lady Russell, who talked Taylor out of the match for the sake of her future.

Verse 1:

Mr. "Perfect face" Mr. "Here to stay"

Mr. "Looked me in the eye and told me you would never go away"

Everything was right Mr. "I've been waitin' for you all my life" Mr. "Every single day until the end, I will be by your side"

This all seems like romantic imagery, but it could also be metaphorical. We all know that Scott and Taylor seemed like a match made in (business) heaven at first. Taylor has talked about how Scott took a chance on her. Scott talked about seeing something unique and special in Taylor, and throwing everything behind her. We all know Taylor basically made Big Machine. It's easy to imagine Scott telling a young Taylor she had the perfect face for country. It's easy to imagine him telling her he was in it for the long haul, willing to promote and develop her as an artist even if it took a while for her to break through. It's easy to imagine both of them thinking their meeting was fate - a perfect partnership that would last her entire career.

Then comes the pre-chorus and the chorus.

But that was when I got to know Mr. "Change of heart" Mr. "Leaves me all alone," I fall apart It takes everything in me just to get up each day But it's wonderful to see that you're okay [Chorus] Hello, Mr. "Perfectly fine" How's your heart after breakin' mine? Mr. "Always at the right place at the right time," baby Hello, Mr. "Casually cruel" Mr. "Everything revolves around you" I've been Miss Misery since your goodbye And you're Mr. "Perfectly fine"

We know that Taylor and Emily were together for nearly two years before the break up, and it seems like the break up was directly related to Taylor's increasing success. In this situation, it's not hard to imagine Scott as "Mr Change of Heart" - someone who initially encouraged a private (closeted) relationship, but then changed his mind and decided even that was too dangerous. Taylor was better off alone. She was only a teenager, after all. She had years ahead of her to fall in love again. Maybe this girl thing was just a phase anyway. She was too young to throw away the opportunity of a lifetime. "Mr Casually Cruel" is, of course, a reference to All Too Well's "so casually cruel in the name of being honest". It evokes the same feelings here. It's belittling, from someone who thinks they're older and wiser. It's easy to imagine Emily repeating some of these statements back to Taylor later, claiming they come from the same place of greater maturity. You can see how Taylor came to feel no-one was on her side, when she sings about the Taymily break up in Bye Bye Baby.

And Scott would be "perfectly fine" after breaking Taylor's heart. Because he's not hurting. He's not part of the loss. I've always thought some of the descriptions Taylor uses for "Emily" in MPF seem overly harsh, and don't tally with her attitude in other songs. But they absolutely fit for 31 year old Taylor looking back at Scott's actions through an adult lens. Angry that he had such influence over her. Angry that he was so dismissive of her feelings, but mined them for a profit. Now she sees it all differently. She feels it was all about him, all about the impact her stardom would have on his label, and he didn't really care about her feelings at all.

[Verse 2] Mr. "Never told me why" Mr. "Never had to see me cry" Mr. "Insincere apology so he doesn't look like the bad guy" He goes about his day Forgets he ever even heard my name Well, I thought you might be different than the rest, I guess you're all the same

Pre-Chorus] 'Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl I've been pickin' up my heart, he's been pickin' up her And I never got past what you put me through But it's wonderful to see that it never fazed you

Here is where I think Taylor starts to conflate the past and present. She goes from talking about Scott's first betrayal to his last and worst one. Selling her masters to Sc**ter Braun. Never had to see her cry? No explanation for the betrayal? Insincere apology? Attempts to sign new artists to replace Taylor at Big Machine? Apparent indifference to something Taylor still hasn't got over? All of this checks out for Scott and the masters situation. Especially the line about thinking he was "different than the rest" only to find out "you're all the same". She thought Scott was like a father to her, but when it came down to it he was as greedy and self-serving as Sc**ter.

She doubles down on this in Verse 3 and the bridge.

[Verse 3] So dignified in your well-pressed suit So strategized, all the eyes on you Sashay your way to your seat It's the best seat, in the best room Oh, he's so smug, Mr. "Always wins" So far above me in every sense So far above feeling anything [Bridge] And it's really such a shame It's such a shame 'Cause I was Miss "Here to stay" Now I'm Miss "Gonna be alright someday" And someday maybe you'll miss me But by then, you'll be Mr. "Too late"

This is absolutely about a business man. It never fit for Taymily or Joe J*nas. It doesn't fit JA either. ("All eyes on you"? "The best seat in the best room"? "Always wins"? In his dreams!) JA wishes he'd made as much out of Taylor as Scott did. It's like the Mean Girls quote "I like, invented her!" That's what Taylor did for Scott. She put him on the map.

(Just like she's doing right now for JA. Bearding like Scott taught her all those years ago. I think the "always wins" / "alwyn" soundbite is another way of saying they're all the same to her, these men using her for their careers. She doesn't trust JA any more than she trusts Scott. The comparison is pretty revealing about her real feelings regarding JA. Pretty damning.)

The final lines say it all. Taylor would have stayed with Big Machine if they'd been more supportive of her as a person and as an artist. They could have had it all. All the success she's experiencing now, Scott could have been a part of. But he chose another road, and Taylor was left trying to process it in her songs. Trying to claw back the rights to her work by rerecording her albums. And now all that's left is for Scott to miss what he lost - far, far too late to ever get it back.

- ❄️🥀

(P.S: You're welcome, Lucky One!)

#CTRsubmission #submission

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intheticklecloset · 3 years

Text

My Hero Academia Sentence Starters #21-30

A collection of the MHA sentence starters I’ve done, compiled for the sake of ease. These are all stand-alone stories.

~~~

21) Lee Bakugou, Ler Todoroki

“Get off of me!” Bakugou snapped, shoving at Todoroki, who was currently trying to crawl into his lap. “Back off!”

“You said I could if I won,” Todoroki replied calmly, pausing in his approach. “Don’t make me use ice shackles.”

Bakugou bristled. “You don’t have the guts, you—”

Todoroki wordlessly snatched up his wrists, shoved them to the head of the couch, and used his ice to freeze him in place. Then he finally reached his destination, settling himself on the blonde’s hips. “You were saying?”

“G-Get off,” Bakugou demanded again, though this time through a shiver from the cold. “Idiot, you can’t just—”

“You said…” Todoroki reached under his shirt to rake his nails down his ribcage, effectively silencing his protests and replacing them with a yelp and a few giggles. “…that if I won, I could tickle you for five minutes. And I did win. See there?” He nodded toward the TV, where his character stood over Bakugou’s in victory.

“Y-You…you cheated somehow,” Bakugou tried, trying his best not to break into another fit of giggles at the light skittering along his sides. He squirmed, twisting his head to hide his smile. “You couldn’t have w-won without cheheheating.”

Todoroki rolled his eyes, then shoved Bakugou’s shirt so far up he was able to slide it up his arms and over his eyes, blinding him. “Stubborn as always.”

“W-Wait! Icy-Hot, I can’t sehehehehehehee!” Bakugou squealed, giggling uncontrollably as Todoroki scratched lightly at his sweet spots. He could feel his cheeks growing redder by the second, but he couldn’t do anything about it, helpless as he was. “Stahahahahahap, this isn’t fahahahahahair!”

“Well now, that’s too bad.” Todoroki was smirking; Bakugou could hear it in his voice, even if he couldn’t see it. The light scratching became gentle kneading, and finally the blonde dissolved into actual laughter, squirming and kicking but going nowhere fast. Todoroki chuckled. “Maybe next time you should put up more of a fight.”

22) Lee Shinsou, Ler Deku

“Don’t call me cute!”

“But you are!” Deku smiled up at Shinsou, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him closer. He nuzzled himself under his boyfriend’s chin. “You’re super cute!”

Shinsou tensed, trying to pull away. “H-Hey, don’t – Midoriya, stop it—” He couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out of him as he tried to twist his head away from the mop of green hair, unable to pry himself free of his partner’s firm hold. “That tickles! Don’t—”

Deku looked up at him, eyes wide and bright with excitement. “Tickles?”

Shinsou’s cheeks turned pink. “N-No, I mean – I mean yes, but – Midoriya!”

Deku held him even closer, standing on his tiptoes to better reach his neck and collarbone, peppering them with light kisses that made Shinsou dissolve into helpless giggles. “Now you definitely can’t tell me you’re not cute, Toshi~”

“Stahahahahahap,” Shinsou giggled breathlessly, trying to push Deku away and failing. “You d-dohohohohon’t understahahahahand, it tihihihickles so much – plehehehehehease!”

“Light tickles really drive you crazy, huh?”

“Midoriya, plehehehehease – Izuku!” Shinsou squealed when Deku reached up to trail his fingers along the back of Shinsou’s neck down to his shoulder blades. Honestly it was a wonder the taller boy hadn’t completely collapsed yet. “Ahahahahahaha, nohohohohoho! Stop, plehehehease!”

Deku giggled, finally slowing his light tickles to a stop, wrapping his arms around Shinsou’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss. “Just admit it. You’re cute.”

“Ugh, fine,” Shinsou relented, grabbing Deku’s hips to both pull him closer and dig in without mercy. His boyfriend exploded into laughter, and Shinsou grinned from ear to ear at the sound. “But you’re cuter.”

23) Lee Deku, Ler Shinsou

“Gee, I wonder where you are~”

Deku pressed both hands over his mouth to keep his giggles at bay, waiting anxiously in the darkened closet for Shinsou to find him. Because he would find him. It was a matter of time, and Deku knew that. Probably the taller boy already knew where he was and was just messing with him by pretending he didn’t. The thought made Deku’s heart race faster.

Suddenly the door to the closet flung open, and all Deku could see was the outline of his boyfriend before Shinsou dropped to his knees, grabbed his sides, and dug his fingers in relentlessly.

“Aiieehehehehehehe!” Deku burst into giggles, squirming and kicking but not fighting back. He knew it was pointless, and besides, he was having too much fun to want to stop now. “Hitoshiehehehehehehehe!”

“Yes, Izuku?” Shinsou teased into his ear. “My, you seem especially ticklish today, don’t you?”

“No I dohohohohohon’t!”

“Yes, you do~” His fingers dug into his sides even more, one hand sliding up to his ribs as well. “Tickle, tickle~”

“Nahahahahahaha Hitoshiehehehehe!” Deku flopped backward onto his boyfriend’s lap, and Shinsou took the opportunity to worm his fingers into the smaller boy’s underarms, making him shriek with laughter, kicking the air wildly. “AHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

“I don’t hear you asking me to stop, ‘Zuku~”

“BEHEHEHEHECAUSE I DON’T WAHAHAHAHAHANT YOU TO!!”

Shinsou beamed, hoisting Deku up so he was seated in his lap rather than lying on it, wrapping him up in a bear hug and squeezing a hip teasingly. Deku let out a scream of laughter, struggling in earnest now but going nowhere fast. “Is that so? Well, then, allow me to give you more of what you want~”

24) Lee Bakugou, Ler Ojiro

“Not so tough now, huh?”

Bakugou’s arms trembled with the effort to keep the shelf from tipping over while Ojiro’s tail brushed along his exposed underarms. He gritted his teeth. “J-Just gehehet the screw into the wahahall already, you i-idoit!”

One of the single shelves in the kitchen area had suddenly broken free from one of its hinges just moments before, and without really thinking about it, Bakugou darted forward to keep it from making a mess of spices and pan sprays on the ground that they’d have to clean up later. He’d successfully managed to balance the shelf while Ojiro went to the storage closet to get a new hinge and a couple of replacement screws, but now that he’d come back, all the tail hero seemed to want to do was mess with him.

Bakugou was desperately trying not to laugh. That tail of his was so soft and plush, and it tickled like crazy, but he’d rather die than give Ojiro the satisfaction of hearing him beg.

“Come on, Bakugou, you know you want to giggle,” Ojiro teased, standing with his hands on his hips, tools in his fists. He continued to brush the tail all over his underarms and neck. “Let it out, now. Come on~”

“Fihihix the shehehelf, you stupid extrahaha!” Bakugou snapped, really fighting the urge to bring his arms down to protect himself.

“Fine, I know what will make you laugh.” Ojiro stepped right up to him, pulled his shirt up to expose his ribs, and brushed his tail over the sensitive skin there.

Finally, Bakugou had no choice. Forget dying – he just wanted out of this situation. “Agh, fihihihihine, fine! Stahahahahap it before I drohohohohohop everythihihihing!”

Ojiro obliged, grinning. “That’s more like it.” And he finally got to work repairing the broken shelf.

25) Lee Kaminari, Ler Sero

“Dude, did you just snort?!” Sero laughed, pressing his fingertips deeper into Kaminari’s knee pits. “Oh my gosh, do it again!”

“NO!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!” Denki was losing his mind laughing, pounding the floor with his fist in an effort to tap out. Another snort slipped out of him, making him even more embarrassed than he already was. “STAHAHAHAHAHAP, SERO!!”

Sero chuckled, finally leaving his knees alone to scribble at his thighs instead. “You’re too ticklish for your own good, my friend.”

“Tehehehehehell me sohohohohomething I dohohohohohon’t know!”

“Okay. You’re also stupid cute when you’re tickled. Bet you didn’t know that.”

Surprised, Denki lifted his head, taking in Sero’s sweet smile and blushing all over again. “I-I am nohohohohohohot!”

“Yeah, you are.” Sero scooted up to sit at his side, grabbing his waist and squeezing. “You’re super cute. Like, I might actually die, you’re so adorable.”

Denki tried to push him away but only succeeded in weakly grasping his wrists as he tickled, which only made him more sensitive. That and the teasing were really doing a number on him. “Nohohohohoho, stohohohohop it!”

“But you’re cuuuuute,” Sero whined playfully, poking randomly up and down Denki’s sides and ribs, making the blonde yelp and squeak and roll around helplessly. “So. Cute. You’re. So. Dang. Cute!” He teased with each poke, enjoying the bright pink flush that was coming over Denki’s face and ears.

“Sero,” Denki pleaded, finally managing to grab his arms and free himself from his tickly demise, if only for a moment. “Y-You can’t…just say that. Unless you…you…”

“Mean it?” Sero grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. “I do mean it.” Then he kissed his neck, and Denki dissolved into giggles all over again. “You’re such a cute, ticklish little sparkplug~”

26) Lee Deku, Ler Shinsou

“You can’t make me!”

“Oh?” Shinsou leaned down to Deku’s face, smirking, pinning his wrists to the wall even harder. “Pretty sure I can make you do anything, Midoriya.”

Deku opened his mouth to reply, then clamped it shut. He was fairly certain Shinsou wouldn’t use his quirk on him without permission first, but since he wasn’t 100% sure, he decided to err on the side of caution.

Shinsou quirked a brow. “Giving me the silent treatment, huh? Well, I can fix that.” He shoved Deku’s arms above his head, crossing his wrists and pinning them both with one hand while his other reached down to scratch lightly in the smaller boy’s underarm.

“Eep!” Deku squeaked, unable to help the tiny giggles escaping him as he tried to twist away. Shinsou’s finger started digging in a little deeper, making him break instantly. “Nohohohohoho, Shinsou!”

“Gonna say it now?”

“Nahahahahahaha!”

“Very well.” Shinsou grabbed his thigh, pressing his thumb into the space where it met his hip, and Deku nearly buckled, the sensation was so strong.

“GAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHO!!” He screamed, laughing uncontrollably. He tugged at his arms but Shinsou was surprisingly strong for how lean he was. “NO FAHAHAHAHAHAIR!! SHIHIHIHIHIHINSOU!!”

“Say it.”

“NOHOHOHOHOHO WAHAHAHAHAY!!”

With a growl, Shinsou kept drilling into that ultra-sensitive spot while leaning down to kiss Deku’s neck, making the poor boy squeal with hysterics.

“OKAYOKAYOKAHAHAHAHAY I’LL SAHAHAHAHAY IT JUST STAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“That’s more like it.” Shinsou smirked, stopping his assault but keeping a hand on his thigh in warning. “Out with it, Midoriya.”

“I-I…I’m a…” Deku groaned, turning to hide his face in his shoulder. “I’m a…c-cutie pie.” He cringed. “That’s so embarrassing, why did you make me s-s-sahahahahay thahahahahat?!” Shinsou had started scribbling over his open tummy, making him giggle all over again. “Nahahahahahaha!”

“I made you say it because it’s true,” Shinsou replied, smirking, kissing his cheek. “Duh.”

27) Lee Bakugou, Ler Kirishima

“Ohoho, you like to be tickled here, don’t you?” Kirishima teased over Bakugou’s roaring laughter, scratching at his bottom ribs with purposeful strokes. “But you’re just too ticklish to stand it! Hmm…what to do, what to do…?”

“KIRI STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” Bakugou pleaded, writhing on the bed helplessly, his arms tied to the headboard above him with the very necktie he’d worn to school that afternoon. His uniform shirt had been unbuttoned and opened up for ease of access, and the vulnerability was making this all so much worse. “PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE, STAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“But you so obviously like being tickled here,” Kiri hummed in mock distress. “I don’t want to stop when you love it so much!”

Bakugou flushed red, desperately squirming everywhere he could. Kiri’s fingers kept up with him, and his face was just so cute as he so easily made the blonde fall apart, and the atomic teen was losing his mind. But the redhead was right – he did love to be tickled here, even if he couldn’t stand it. He kicked his legs uselessly, both loving and hating that he couldn’t bring his arms down to push him away.

“NO MOHOHOHOHOHORE, KIRIEHEHEHEHEHE!!” He screamed, the gentle, persistent scratching truly driving him up the wall now. He didn’t know how much longer he could take it. “AHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

“Had enough, giggles?”

Bakugou hated that nickname because it made him so dang flustered every single time. Still, he nodded frantically. “YEHEHEHEHES, YES, ENOHOHOHOHOUGH!! PLEHEHEASE!!”

Kiri gradually slowed to a stop, allowing Bakugou to reenter the world of non-tickles with as much ease as possible. Then he leaned down and planted a kiss on his lips. Bakugou hummed in surprise and appreciation, kissing right back until Kiri pulled away and grinned. “Want another round?”

28) Lee Kaminari, Ler Bakusquad

It was so silent you could hear a pin drop. The others stared at him. Denki could feel himself beginning to panic. Had he just said that out loud?!

“I…I mean…uh…” he stammered, trying to take it back however he could but unable to find the words. He hid his face, not knowing what else to do. “I’m sorry, forget I said that.”

“Forget?” Bakugou said incredulously.

“Oh, we’re so not going to forget that,” Sero teased.

Kirishima chuckled. “So you want to be tickle tortured, do you?”

“That’s so cuuute~” Mina squealed.

Denki was blushing so hard he felt like he’d gotten heatstroke. Seconds later his hands were being pried away from his face by Kiri’s strong arms, and Sero, Bakugou, and Mina were all wiggling their fingers at him. “Eep!”

“Here we come~” Mina teased.

Bakugou smirked. “You asked for it, dunce face.”

“I can tie you up with my tape if you’d like,” Sero said, holding up his arms for emphasis.

Denki gasped, shaking his head frantically. “No, nonono, I can’t – I’m t-too ticklish for that!”

“You’re super ticklish, huh?” Kiri teased into his ear. He chuckled. “Get him!”

And get him they did, drilling their wiggling fingers into his sides, his ribs, his belly, his underarms – even throwing in a couple of squeezes to his hips and thighs once in a while. Denki tossed his head back and unleashed a long string of laughter he’d been dying to let loose for days. God, he’d wanted this so bad, but had never had the courage to say it – until just now, apparently.

“So, what was it you said?” Sero teased, wiggling a finger into his belly button. “‘I want to be tickled until I can’t breathe’?”

Mina cooed, Kiri laughed, and Bakugou smirked evilly. “Consider it done, dunce face.”

29) Lee Todoroki, Ler Bakugou

Todoroki often restrained his attacks during training for one purpose: he didn’t want his friends to be scared of him. To stop tickling and teasing him mercilessly just to see him lose his mind in laughter. To be close in a way he was afraid he would put an end to by unleashing the full force of his power during training.

Unfortunately for him, Bakugou took issue with that approach.

“You better stop holding back on me!” the blonde snapped once their training session was over for the day and the entire class was beginning to pack up and leave the grounds.

Todoroki hesitated. “I just – I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me? Bah! You couldn’t lay a finger on me, Icy-Hot, especially if you’re holding back like that!”

Todoroki merely shrugged and looked away.

Bakugou growled. “I’ll make you see things my way.” In a flash, he’d kicked Todoroki’s legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground in surprised heap in the moments before Bakugou ripped off his shoes and started scribbling wildly over his socked soles.

“AIEEEAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! NAHAHAHAHAHAHA BAKUGOU!!” Todoroki screamed with laughter, unable to hold back his reactions whatsoever. Curse him for going after his worst spot right off the bat! “STAHAHAHAHAHAP I CAHAHAHAHAHAN’T TAKE IT!! PLEHEHEHEASE!!”

“Promise you’ll stop holding back on me and I’ll stop tickling you to death,” Bakugou demanded, turning to look over his shoulder at the mess he was making of the normally stoic boy. “What do you say, Icy-Hot?”

“OKAYOKAY FIHIHIHIHIHIHINE I’LL STOHOHOHOHOHOP HOLDING BAHAHAHACK!!” Todoroki pleaded, laughing hysterically as he writhed on the ground. “I’LL DEFEHEHEHEHEAT YOU NEXT TIHIHIHIHIHIME!!”

Well, that was the wrong thing to say. Bakugou ripped off his socks next, going straight for his toes. “Oh, will you, now?”

“NONONONO I’M SOHOHOHOHOHORRY I TAHAHAHAHAKE IT BAHAHAHACK—!!”

30) Lee Shinsou, Ler Deku

“Relax, it’s just a massage!” Deku laughed, highly amused by his poor boyfriend’s increasingly distressed state. He kneaded into his shoulder blades again for emphasis, making Shinsou choke on a laugh.

“Gah! Pfft no – no it’s nohohohohohot! You knohohohohow what you’re doing, you jeheheherk!” Shinsou tried to sound angry, but it came out as more of a whimper. His legs kicked behind him as he squeezed his arms to try and keep them in place above his head so he could rest his cheek on them. But another scribble between his blades from Deku had him cackling into the bedsheets all over again. “Nahahahahahahaha! Stahahahahahap it alreadyehehehehehe!”

“I’m literally not even trying to tickle you,” Deku giggled, swiping a finger from Shinsou’s shoulder blades to the base of his neck. “Well, at first I wasn’t, anyway.”

“Leheheheheave me alohohohohone! I cahahahahan’t take thihihihis!”

“Oh, I think you can.” Deku leaned down to press soft, feather-light kisses along Shinsou’s upper back and shoulder blades, and his usually well-composed boyfriend broke down into a long string of utterly helpless giggles, squirming desperately.

“Izuku, nohohohohohohoho! Nohohohohohot thahahahat – it tihihihihickles! Plehehehease!”

“Does it now? I would never have guessed.” Deku chuckled, trailing his kisses from his shoulders to the back of his neck, nuzzling into his ears from behind, enjoying the half-whine, half-moan that came out of his boyfriend. “Tickle, tickle, little Toshi~”

“Dohohohohohon’t call me thahahahat,” Shinsou begged, turning his face to the side to try and catch his breath a little better. “You’re smahahahahaller than me.”

“Yeah,” Deku agreed, blowing air across the back of his left ear, making him shiver and giggle at the same time. “But baby talk works way better on you, doesn’t it, my ticklish little Toshi?”

Shinsou’s cheeks turned hot pink. “Shuhuhuhuhut up…”

Deku kissed his neck again. “Never.”

#fanfiction #tickle fic #tickle drabble #compilation #quick prompts #boku no hero #my hero academia #bnha #mha #sentence starters #shindeku

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treenissanderssidesstuff · 3 years

Text

One

A03 Link

Thank you to @edupunkn00b for helping me beta this story!

Words: 4222

Pairing: Roceit (Platonic Demus)

TW: None that I know of, feel free to inform me.

Summary: Janus decides to play "prince."

Inspired by @aidensm8's work in the request they filled for me. Also loosely inspired by some of the drawings @reddstardust made in response to aiden's work as well.

Link to post.

Ah HAH! I found it! Link to original ask.

The darkside’s corridor had been quiet recently, annoyingly so in Remus’ opinion. It’d been quiet in general since Virgil left and the terrible trio became a dinky duo, but now that Janus split his time between the sides, Remus had found himself increasingly uno. It was usually fine, he had the entire imagination to keep him busy and entertained, after all. He could make sides if he wanted to. But… it wasn’t quite the same. That was probably the only reason he had bothered to hang around at all when Janus went on another tirade about how insufferable and brainwashed the lightsides were, how Roman was being pushed, blah blah blah. After the last video release, the dialogged had temporarily shifted. That had gotten Remus’ attention. It seemed that Roman had rejected Janus, not just chosen someone else’ way over the deceitful side’s own, but outright stood against Janus even when the others folded around him. It would be funny, if it weren’t so sad.

All of Janus’ plans had been for Roman’s sake.

And in three miscalculated moves, Janus had managed to push away the one side he sought the approval of.

“Do you think this will work?” Janus asked, tugging at the yellow sash hanging off his shoulder again.

“Oh, definitely not,” Remus said flatly, flipping through an upside down fairytale book on the couch with a bored expression on his face. The duke had been forced to hear about Janus’ plans to woo—“reconcile” with Roman for days and at this point it was honestly slightly obnoxious how invested Janus was. “But it’s just the right side of disgustingly cheesy that Roman’s sure to love it even when you inevitably fall on your face.”

“I will!” Janus “I- I mean I won’t! I mean-!“ Janus shoved his face in his hands with a groan.

Remus quirked an eyebrow in the snake’s direction, watching the self-proclaimed “Lord of Lies” try and compose himself. Thankfully, Remus did know what he meant, even when Janus wasn’t sure of it himself. It was one of his special skills as the bestfriend™.

“Look, J, I’m going to tell you this very clearly and carefully, as your friend,” Remus said, pushing up into a sitting position from his previous sprawl across the couch. “Your plans suck.”

"Excuse you?!" Janus nearly shrieked in retaliation to Remus' brand of hard truths. “They do!… not!”

Remus couldn't have stopped the subsequent string of chuckles if he wanted to. That was the biggest lie he'd ever heard Jan tell and Remus had heard plenty over the years given how rarely the two were ever apart. The darkside pair just meshed well. Janus was the liar, sure, but Remus was the secret keeper. Even if Roman struggled to understand Janus, Remus never had. The snake couldn't hide from him, even when he wanted to. It came with Remus' position as the holder of intrusive thoughts; he got a front row seat to every dirty little secret the others tried to lock away and bury in their little shame closets. What they didn't realize however, was that Remus had the master key. Remus quite literally was the little hint of truth behind every one of Janus' lies. The truths that Janus tried to tug and weave and bend around the others to get his way.

Remus was the keeper of the blatant, harsh, and often downright uncomfortable truths, not just what the sides tried to hide from Thomas, but also what they tried to hide from each other. It was a lot like the story The Giver. Someone had to hold all of the knowledge the little utopia unit tried to hide from and Remus had been designated. Though, he usually thought of himself more of a receiver than anything. Roman was the giver of the pair. The giver of dreams, wishes, and fantasies. Remus was more like a radio with the dial gummed up and stuck on where the power switch had broken off ages ago. Not that all of the secrets were so bad to tune into, some were sweet, some were shy, and a few were even downright adorable, but more often than not, secrets were kept that way for a reason and the Deceitful side had the most secrets of all.

They worked because Janus could never ever keep a secret from Remus and likewise, Remus would never ever tell.

The Deceitful side trusted him, was the only one to trust him and Remus was adamant to keep that trust. Remus locked it in a little box and kept it close, in the few little hideaways he had. In his pockets, within little small nooks of the imagination, and under the bed on the nights when Thomas’ thoughts turned up to an 11 and even Remus started to wonder what he still had left to give.

He had that.

A tiny little secret of his own.

Most of the time, it was enough.

"Your. Plans. Suck." Remus emphasized, slowly, pushing up from the ratty sofa Janus had sewn back up after Remus’ countless escapades over the years. Janus complained about it every time. He cited everything from the loose springs, and flattened stuffing, to the threadbare upholstery and warped base. He always told Remus just to replace the broken thing, but that never stopped careful fingers in yellow-clad gloves from systematically putting the thing back together again each time, always working away at it before Remus could even consider replacing the old lump.

That was his friend’s best and worst trait after all. Janus could not let things go. He wrapped and coiled and held on to any little scrap that he could get a hold of. His problem was that when he panicked, that coil became a death grip.

That's how they lost Virgil.

And that's how Janus was currently losing Roman.

"My plans are ama--mph--" Janus glared at Remus with fury striking like lightning in his eyes after Remus willed a zipper to appear across Janus' lips to force them shut, fully closing even the snake side.

Even best friends needed a taste of their own medicine every now and again, lest they forget how bitter it can be.

"Ah, ah, ah my sweet snoot," Remus nearly sang as he skipped over to his favorite danger noodle and reached out to boop Janus' nose. "It's my turn to talk now.

“You went in and pretend to be Patton, just to have him show up on you and made Thomas want to tell the truth more. Even then, you had almost had Roman on your side, but got so focused on semantics, you missed the actual benefits. You reviewed, revised, and waited to try again after deciding Logan and his facts were the problem, right?

“Then—“ Remus started, holding his mace up threateningly as Janus made some displeased, but muffled noises from behind the zipper, likely some kind of litany of curses. Had Remus not been prepared with his mace, the other side likely would have already tried to strong arm him into getting rid of the bound. “You tried to play Logan and just… ugh, Janny you are not allowed to act anymore. That was a terrible performance. Anyway! The trial starts and you get into it and try to defend what Roman wants, right?”

Janus’ incomprehensible complaints cease, only for him to squint at Remus suspiciously and give a slow nod.

“Wrong!” Remus proclaimed, swinging his mace toward the snake and stopping so close to his face, the metal spikes brushed some of the bangs hanging over the bridge of Janus’ nose. “Instead, you got carried away again. You got caught up in semantics and made it about who Thomas is as a person rather than what would be the better choice to make.

“In short, you made it all about you. Again,” Remus said, letting his morning star drop as the energy was sucked out of him with his rant. “Sure, you won the argument, but you lost what you actually wanted.”

Remus wasn’t usually one to insert his opinions on things, that was more Janus’ thing and, gosh it was exhausting. How did the snake even keep up with just… caring so much about everything?

It seemed Remus wasn’t the only one suddenly exhausted though, because after rubbing some of the strain out of his own eyes, the duke watched Janus slowly slump backwards until he was all but sitting on the arm of their scrap couch. He wasn’t fighting the zipper any longer, his extra arms were tucked away and his normal pair were laid listlessly on his lap now as he stared down at his own yellow gloves.

“How was my brother meant to make any other decision when you put what Thomas wanted, against who he wanted to be? I wouldn’t care, indulgence is my territory. But Roman’s job is to be the dream, the ideal. You should know that.”

When Janus finally looked up at Remus, he just looked sad.

He looked pale, his eyes were shiny, and all the regality he tried to hold himself with in that dupe prince costume just fell away from him as he pressed his palms to his temples.

Remus finally let the zipper fall away into nonexistence.

He wasn’t done yet.

“Look J, I know you had good intentions.”

“But?” a slightly rough voice asked from a newly freed mouth as a yellow glove brushed the remaining ghosting sensations of the enclosure away.

Remus sighed, already imagining the hoard of grotesque creatures he’d be battling through in the imagination after this “talk.” He needed something to balance out all of the gross feelings and shit.

“But I don’t think Roman or Thomas would have chosen the wedding if you hadn’t gotten side tracked. You tried to prove you’re ugh ‘goodness’ by arguing you’re a part of Thomas. Your whole argument backfired and made him question if he’s any good. What else did you expect but for him to try and prove he is? Not to mention the after incident.”

“That was meant to be an apology,” Janus murmured miserably. “I had taken Logan’s place with the intention of leading Roman to work out his own mistreatment.”

“But you showboated.”

“I-“ Janus started, clearly ready to argue again, but stopped himself with a single look from Remus. “…I did what I thought was necessary.”

“Did you now?” Remus snorted. “Sure, going and pretending to be the nerd I get, but why change went Patton went full kaiju? You could have kept up the act and stood alongside Roman. It would have been an all around win for the lightsides as everyone would think Roman and Logan worked together to reign in one of their own.”

“I… I just wanted….”

“You wanted to be accepted. You saw an opportunity to be the hero and you took it, not caring who you hurt along the way. First you took Patton’s role as morality, then you took Logan’s role as logic, and to round it all out, you took Roman’s role as Thomas hero. That’s your problem.”

“Is wanting a place at the discussion table so bad?” Janus asked with a sigh, folding his arms in his lap.

“No, but taking it is,” Remus said, tugging the tiny chain that typically held Janus’ cape to his shoulders. It was currently re-purposed to secure the cape into a makeshift sash.

“Because that’s not a hypocritical statement at all, coming from you,” Janus replied swatting at Remus’ hands that still fiddled with his sash. “It’s not as if you, oh I dunno, knocked out Roman and took his spot during your entrance or anything.”

“True, but when I did it, I made Robro their hero.” Remus said, letting himself fall back onto the couch lazily as Remus saw the first sign of real recognition budding within his friend’s heterocromatic eyes.

“He is their hero.”

“Does he know that?”

“He wouldn’t believe me if I told him so.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

###

Roman groaned and carefully maneuvered his skirt from the grasp of yet another birch tree. It was fair to say that the photo shoot wasn’t exactly going how he had pictured it when he had chosen a full gown paired with an outdoor setting. He knew there must have been a reason why the others had all chosen knee length skirts and stayed indoors. Instead of just taking a picture, Roman had to build a scene. He had to wow his audience and every part of the image had to be carefully designed. He just… hadn’t exactly thought everything through. Roman had imagined something more along the lines of sweeping gracefully through the forest as the gown swished around him as his every movement was made even more graceful by the gentle sway of the fabric.

He hadn’t accounted for how often his outfit would catch on the branches and foliage around him.

It wasn’t fair.

Disney princesses usually seemed to magically get along with the flora and fauna around them, long skirts or not, unless they were being trailed by some evildoer of course, but that didn’t count. Roman was by himself at the moment. On break from getting frustrated one too many times as his own outfit betrayed him during the photo shoot. The photographer and set designer needed some time to reevaluate the next set and Roman needed some time to clear away his current frustration.

So, into the woods he went. He carefully lifted his skirt to protect it against nearly ripping for the fourth or fifth time today as he gingerly stepped around branches, dearly missing his boots as stray twigs tried to impale themselves into his sandled feet. At least his hair wasn’t so long that it would get unexpectedly tangled in the branches above, but he did have to pick some burrs off of his bolero already after he had tried to catch himself on a bush during an unfortunate stumble. The maneuver saved his outfit from getting muddy, but he didn’t make it unscathed.

Roman had dreamed of being on the cover of magazines his whole life. Though, in those dreams it was usually due to a movie deal but he had never been opposed to the idea of modeling like some of the other sides were. Logan found the idea of it mindless, Virgil was anxious about the attention, and Patton wasn’t fond of the rumored cutthroat environment. Still, Roman had thought it seemed so glamorous. However, he hadn’t taken into account how much work it was.

Sure, it seemed simple. Pose and shoot, right? In reality though, it was tedious work as the photographer rapidly took hundreds of pictures at just slightly different angles so they could all be evaluated later for the “best” ones. That meant not just holding a pose, but also holding an expression. Roman felt like his acting skills were being put to fill use as he tried to strike the idea of power into each click of the camera.

Absolutely nothing about this had been simple though.

Roman found himself sighing and leaned against one of the scattered trees for moral and physical support after carefully maneuvering his gown around it. He would be fine. He was royalty after all and the first rule was to never let them see you cry. It would all be okay once he took a chance to catch his metaphorical breath. Though, the literal sense wasn’t a bad idea either. He imagined the breathing exercises that Virgil had gone through with him when the prince accidentally shown up at Virgil’s door in a less than royal state after the whole wedding debauchery and name reveal sham. The near panic attacking pulling him there unwittingly.

It was… it was nice. Roman and Virgil had been getting along better than ever after his own acceptance video, but it was like a new wall had broken down around the pair. Virgil had stationed himself as Roman’s personal bodyguard since the events that need not be named and… it was nice. A little lonely, but he appreciated everything that the anxious side was doing for him and especially appreciated how he kept between him and the-side-who-probably-lied-about-his-name-anyway.

Roman didn’t think he was ready to open up that can of snakes quite yet.

Hey Princey, it’s going to be okay, yeah? You’re better than this… and him.

The words rang around Roman’s skull once, twice, and then he straightened his shoulders. Even when Virgil wasn’t around, he was right. The prince could practically feel the anxious side aiming a smirk his way from somewhere in the incomprehensible distance. Still, it was good to remember.

He was better than this.

He was going to march right back to that photo-shoot, take some fabulous as fuck photos, and then march home with his head hell high because he was going to look damn good in the final set!

Hiking up his skirt again, Roman prepared himself for the trudge back, feeling ready to take on the world once again, except—

—except something caught his eye.

Well… there was a well… a literal one out in the distance. It was old looking, some of the bricks were broken or even just missing, and there seemed to be this misty haze that hung around it, a little thinner than full fog, but something about it felt slightly… otherworldly? With only a moment of hesitation, Roman found himself taking a step towards it and then another, and then another…

…the others would be fine without him for just a few minutes longer, right?

It was such an oddly beautiful scene, broken down and uncared for, but there was still something just so striking about it. Plus, how many chances would be get to interact with a real life well? This could be a great location to take some shots and he’d be remiss if he didn’t take advantage of it!

There was also one other advantage to it as well. It wasn’t often after all that real settings lended themselves so pefectly to the Disney aesthetic. Mind you, Snow White was by no means his favorite movie. The plot-line was a bit... outdated. Still, he admired the film for everything it represented as the first Disney classic of the golden age, the film that really started it all! Snow White was a marvel of animation for its time and the well song was the sound engineers of the time showing off.

He could respect that.

Roman crept closer, one careful step at a time until his toes of his sandles nearly touched the stone. He, ever so gently, let himself kneel down slowly, until his knees began to rest upon the well’s edge. He carefully let his shoulders relax as he watched the light reflecting in the water’s slightly cloudy surface. It was just for a tiny bit longer, after all. He let his hands slowly unclench from around the skirt as the velvety material draped and flowed around him. It was nice to have something else bear the weight of the heavy material for a little while.

“Make a wish into the well,” Roman whispered, letting his fingers trace over the loose stones circling the murky opening. To be fair, it was the tiniest bit more decrepit then the one pictured in the film. He sighed and slowly let his form drape across the layered bricks as he let one hand hang over the side as his fingertips danced across the water’s surface. “That’s all I have to do, huh?”

“And if you hear it echoing, your wish will soon come true~”

The sweet bell chime of Snow’s voice only sang the next line within Roman’s own mind, but it was enough to spur his continuance.

“I’m wishing~” Roman quietly sang, trying not to feel too silly as his voice carried to no one at all. At least Snow had some animals to sing to. He had nothing but the ripples of a moss covered and slightly over-flooded well that had certainly acted as a catch all drainage for the recent string of storms.

Roman tried not to empathize with the stacked pile of rocks.

He wasn’t sure if it was the well or his own internal imagination still remembering the movie, but he could almost hear an echo reply back with, “I’m wishing”

“For the one I love, to find me,”

“To find me”

“Todaaay.”

“Todaaaaay~” came a smooth voice behind Roman’s back, causing the royal side to literally jump up and onto their feet from their previous position lounged across the well edge.

“Deceit,” Roman glowered, hiking up the lengthy gown to take a couple cautionary steps backwards. He wasn’t sure what to make of what he was seeing. There Janus was, decked out in an outfit modeled after his own typical princely gear, right down to the sash that was—wait—was that his cape?

“Not today,” Janus said simply, taking slow steps forward until the fake prince came nearly nose to nose with the real one. “Today, my darling, I thought I’d try something new, just for you.”

And then the humming started.

“Now that I’ve found you, hear what I have to saaay~” Janus started, singing along to the familiar tune. “One song,~”

“~Ever entreating, constant but true~”

A gloved hand tried to weave its way between Roman’s fingers as the other hovered just to Roman’s side and would have been only a moment away from resting against his hip, had he not jerked away the moment those gloves touched him.

“There’s nothing ‘true’ about you!” Roman yelled, not caring anymore that the edges of his skirt swept the soil beneath him as he pulled away.

Roman had planned a second round of photos after his break, but couldn’t stand the thought anymore. No, Janus had ruined this for him, just like everything else he had systematically ruined in Roman’s life recently.

Roman was about to start again, blaming the Deceitful side for this, for mercilessly pushing and shoving his way into Roman’s space, his things, his life, except—

—expect he had this look on his face. Big, mismatched eyes stared back at Roman, wide, and shimmery and open. Roman had to remind himself that the hurt shining his way was probably just another trick, just another ploy to manipulate the prince again.

...Okay, not even Roman totally believed it.

“What do you want from me?” Roman whispered, he didn’t know if he was asking the other side or himself from how quietly his voice whispered the words.

“I just want one.”

One what?

“One chance,” Janus said, taking a slow step forward toward the prince. “One opportunity to apologize properly.”

As Janus moved forward, one of Roman’s feet took a preparatory step backwards for balance, ready to move, ready to defend or flee. But Roman stayed rooted in place as the snake in princely garb moved closer.

“One day, that I can pretend that my actions and intentions had aligned, my dear,” Janus said, only stopping once his chest nearly brushed against Roman’s own. “One day, to pretend that I was your savior.”

“I don’t under—“ Roman muttered, before he could curse himself for engaging with this at all. His brain was just the smallest bit frazzled from the proximity and Janus had no shortage of charm in the way he could deliver a line.

“Shhhhh,” Janus hushed gently, tugging the yellow gloves from his hand before he reached up to trace his thumb against Roman’s cheekbone. “Can’t we just have a fantasy for a little while my prince? Just this once?”

Roman swallowed as Janus leaned further into his space.

“Fantasy is my specialty, I suppose,” Roman muttered, clinging to the fact that the sweet talk was simply to get him to conjure some kind of indulgent daydream rather than trying to lead Roman to some other kind of nefarious goal. “What kind of fantasy were you looking to dive into?”

“I want one where I gave you your happy ending in the way I intended Roman.”

Roman just stared, his jaw dropping slightly at those words.

Janus didn’t flinch, didn’t throw his voice, or quirk his eyebrows, or any of number of little tells that the Deceitful side expected the others to pick up on in conversation. No he just met Roman’s stare with something heavy behind those heterochromatic eyes.

“Please Roman? I know it’s selfish to ask, but we both know selfish is what I am. Just let me be one today. Can’t we pretend for just one day?”

“What ‘one’ do you even mean?” Roman huffed half-heartedly. Even he could feel the fire slowly extinguishing in his chest as the conversation continued. “Who are you today then? The liar or the saint?”

Janus paused a moment, his gaze unwavering from Roman’s own face. Roman watched the scales on his neck glimmer in the sunlight as he swallowed, before taking the last final step into the prince’s space as a gloveless hand sat itself on Roman’s hip.

“Neither today my dearest,” Janus said with a cocky smile as he used his free hand to brush Roman’s fluffy bangs from his eyes.

“Today, I simply want to be the one in your fantasy.”

#roceit #sanders sides #fanfiction #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #disney themes

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

Text

Good Omens one-shot - “Wrong Address” (Rated NC17)

Summary: Since Aziraphale won't let his demon come over during lockdown, Crowley decides to send him a special gift. It doesn't work out quite the way he planned...

... but that might turn out to be an unexpected blessing. (1655 words)

Read on AO3.

"Anthony J Crowley! Did you send me a care package?"

"Yes, indeedy, angel," Crowley admits, a smug smile tugging his lips up at the corners. He reclines in his throne, phone pressed to his ear, staring out his windows in the direction of his angel's shop, beaming at the smile in Aziraphale's voice.

"What a wonderful surprise! This has positively made my day! Whatever made you think of it?"

"Well, when you mentioned finding those cookbooks in your shop, you sounded so damned happy, I wanted to see if I could top it even if you won't let me come over so I can watch you eat your tasty creations... " Crowley mutters on the finish, still bitter at his angel's reluctance to bend the rules, especially since those rules shouldn't apply to them. There's no way either of them can get sick! "So when I saw this online, I thought it could be a way for me to be a part of your culinary journey."

"How very thoughtful of you," Aziraphale says apologetically. He's not trying to hurt Crowley. He would love nothing more than to have him slither over and share a crumpet or two.

But angels assigned to Earth stations are meant to be role models. What he does, he does for appearance's sake.

He must lead by example.

Though, to be honest, it's quite annoying being penned in like this for the good of mankind when humans can't see fit to sit on their arses for a few months until this whole virus bother blows over.

"So... " Crowley nudges as an expectant silence falls between them, each waiting for the other's next move.

"Indeed! Don't keep me in suspense!" Aziraphale says, rubbing his palms together. "What's inside?"

Crowley rolls his eyes. Like he's going to set up this whole surprise and then just spill the beans! "You won't know until you open it, will you?"

"Oh! You want me to open it now then? With you on the phone?"

"That's wot I was hoping. I want to hear your reaction. You know, since I can't be there and all."

"Okay. Give me a moment. I need to find a letter opener or a box cutter or... or something... "

Crowley sinks further into his seat, closes his eyes, and makes himself comfortable. Knowing Aziraphale and his unique organizational system, this could take a while. But listening to his angel hum as he roots through his desk drawers relaxes him. Crowley finds himself drifting off, lulled by the sounds of Aziraphale simply being Aziraphale. But he can't let himself get too cozy. It would be a shame if he knocked out and missed Aziraphale digging into his gift.

Crowley considers snapping his fingers and giving his angel a hand with the packing tape when he hears a dull pop! and a triumphant, "Success!" Unpacking noises follow - the crumpling of paper wrap being pulled apart, amplified through Crowley's phone, then a giggle that falls somewhere between nervousness and confusion. "Oh! Uh... "

Crowley sits up straight, peering into the distance as if he could see what Aziraphale sees from Mayfair if he tries hard enough. "Wot? Wot's going on?"

"I... I don't know how you intend on me making a meal with what's in this box. Or are you punishing me because I won't let you come over? That would be unnecessarily hurtful, even for a demon."

"Why?" Crowley springs up and stalks over to the glass, addressing the greying treetops below. "Wot'sss in the box?"

"Don't you know?" Aziraphale teases when he starts to suspect this as an honest mishap and not a ploy by his demon.

"Obviousssly I don't!"

"Let's sort through the contents together then, shall we?" Aziraphale reaches into the box, pulling out items one by one. "We have here a pair of silky black knickers. I think these would suit you more than me, my dear."

"You think so?" Crowley asks, annoyance replaced in an instant by intrigue over his angel's impression of him.

"Oh, yes. I think they'd be most flattering on you. And here we have something called a Ben Wa ball, some... " Aziraphale clears his throat before he owns up to the next one "... anal beads... "

Crowley snickers, more at Aziraphale's tight tone than the item itself.

"... a Do Not Disturb sign with an illustration on it that’s anything but subtle, and an object I can only describe as a gel-filled self-pleasuring device. Oh... this one needs refrigeration."

Crowley's mouth goes dry, his imagination running wild with that description, trying to conjure a vision in his head of what such a thing might look like, and where it would go, especially cold. He presses a hot palm to the glass and shivers involuntarily. "Oh my... "

"You sound surprised. Is this not what you ordered, dear?"

"No!" Crowley squeaks. Aziraphale stifles a chuckle when his voice cracks. "No, I didn't," Crowley repeats, fighting for composure while the rest of him itches to bust through the window, unfurl his wings, and fly to his angel.

He could probably make it to him before the first splinter of glass hits the pavement.

But no.

Boundaries.

Aziraphale's determination to not have Crowley over is about more than protocol. Crowley knows this. Angel set up boundaries. And even though his reasons for doing so are ludicrous, Crowley needs to respect them. "Is there a company name on the box?"

"Let me check." Aziraphale mumbles as he searches the package for a name. "This end up, handle with care... here it is! Tantalize Me - the premium adult date night mystery box. Ooo! That sounds interesting! Do you think there could be a murder to sort out in all of this?"

"I don't think that's what they mean by mystery, angel," Crowley says, hearing Aziraphale dive back into the box.

"A-ha! I think I've found the problem."

"And that is... ?"

"I'm afraid this package was meant to go to another bookshop on my same block. It's entirely possible they may have my box."

"I think you learned some information about your competition that you maybe didn't want to know."

"Yes, I suppose I did."

Crowley sighs. "But now I feel like a heel."

"Why is that?"

"I promised you a meal and I didn't deliver."

"Pun intended?" Aziraphale asks with a snort.

"Not," Crowley replies, less than amused.

"I don't think you can be blamed for a mix-up with the post, my dear."

"Bet I can... " Crowley says, thoughts shuffling back to that awful Horizon IT scandal he lazily threw together that went, unfortunately, better than he'd planned.

"There is one thing to eat in here."

"Really?" Crowley grumbles, turning away from the glass and leaning his back against it, an intense chill seeping through his clothes and into his skin, its sting matching his rapidly fouling mood. "What's that?"

"A tube of personal lubricant. And it's chocolate flavored!" Crowley's eyes widen when he hears the telltale snap of a flip-top lid opening, followed by a wet squelch. "Mmm. It's not half bad."

"Are you actually eating that?" Crowley asks breathlessly.

"Only a little. I licked it off my finger."

Crowley fumbles his phone, catching it before it crashes to the floor. "A---Aziraphale... "

"Listen to this! It says on the label that it tingles with body heat. Isn't that interesting?"

Crowley's eyelids flutter shut and he swallows hard, his entire body becoming a solid, throbbing ache. Aziraphale doesn't have body heat. Not all that much. But as a demon, Crowley is full of Hellfire. What would it feel like to have his angel spread that lube on him, press his body against him with his skin tingling like crazy? Jesus Christ! "Aziraphale... "

"Whatever is the matter, my dear?"

"Nothing. Except now I think you're punishing me."

"Carl and Tish Lloyd are probably expecting their package. They must have some big plans. I should send it on its way," Aziraphale suggests with infuriating rationale. "Shouldn't I?"

"Th---that wouldn't be good form!" a desperate Crowley argues. "You've already opened it! And sampled it! You can't give it to them in that condition!"

"That is true. That wouldn't be very neighborly. But what to do with it? That's the question... " Aziraphale wonders while Crowley dies inside, a moan trapped in his throat struggling to break free every time he thinks about Aziraphale licking chocolate-flavored lube off his fingers. "Did you want to... uh... try a bit? Of the chocolate goo, I mean?"

"Are you going to ship it over?"

"I guess I could do that," Aziraphale muses. "But who's to say it will get there? What with the post office making such tragic errors. No. I think there's only one way we can ensure that you get your fair share."

Crowley's brow furrows, his brain cluttered with mixed signals. "Are you asking me... ? Can I come over?"

"I have some conditions."

"Name them," Crowley says, prepared to bolt the second Aziraphale gives him the go-ahead.

"You can come over only if you can make it here without being seen. No giving the humans irresponsible ideas. I know that's your job, but I can't be a party to that. Deal?"

"Deal." A snap of his fingers and a second later, Crowley snatches the tube of lubricant out of Aziraphale's hand. He takes Aziraphale's right wrist gingerly in his grasp, squeezes a dollop of lube on it, then licks it slowly off, amber eyes locking on his angel's blue gaze. Aziraphale's whole body shudders from a single swipe of his tongue, Crowley's tastebuds tingling on the finish. He licks his lips, depositing a thin layer of the lube, which fires across his skin like firecrackers. He sees his angel tremble, sees the white glow of lust in his eyes, and he grins.

Crowley is about to enjoy the best meal of his life.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #ineffable lovers #azirapahle #crowley #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale

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willadisastercry · 3 years

Text

More than ‘just a little tired’: aftermath turned aftershocks part 3

tw: discussion of sever burns and re-burning, lots of pain, also lots of heavy emotions, ptsd symptoms towards the end

Keith is in a lot of pain from just having his wounds cleaned but complications arise that make the relief of the pod that much further away. Tensions are still high and everyone’s emotions are running rampant as they are forced to watch their friend be in so much distress, their friend who never let on when he was anything other than angry, who is now crying and begging for it all to stop. Keith is desperate, his stoic facade has shattered but his body refuses to pass out and they still have to separate him from the bits of the suit that remain...

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

(( haven’t edited yet so ignore for now if it’s riddled with errors or some parts make zero sense lol, enjoy!!! ))

The infirmary was both eerily silent and brimming with commotion, nearly devoid of any conversation or background noise at all aside from muted whispers and the gentle clink of tools as the sound of Keith’s pain filled every dreadful square inch and left little space for much else.

Shrio was still perched on a stool with both hands clasped securely around the one of Keith’s that was accessible, the other hanging over the edge of the table limp and unmoving.

The older boy spoke calm reassurances to him in a low voice, the sentiments themselves not so much soothing as the steady cadence of them were.

It was clear he was still suppressing every wince and grimace though his resolve to remain unbothered seemed to be weakening as he fatigued further. And so Shiro’s gentle tenor worked to ground him as his wherewithal plummeted, the neutral pressure on his hand giving him something else to focus on and keep him from panicking while he lay somewhat paralyzed.

He hadn’t moved much as they cleaned his back up after they gave him the muscle relaxant, not that he could if we wanted to, not when his whole body felt about as solid as jello. The only movements possible were occasional reflexive twitches or sudden bursts of shuddering breaths that had whoever was poking his back pause to give him a minute to steady himself.

That was until the team had separated him from as much of the under-suit as they could with just tweezers and saline... because about 30% of what they’d sectioned off around each wound was still attached and not coming free no matter how hard they pulled or however much saline they poured.

It was then with everything cleaned away that they saw how severe it was, how little of the blur of soot around each blast could actually be cleaned away because it wasn’t his skin that was charred, it was the suit itself.

They couldn’t fix that with tweezers but they had to remove the melted material so the pod didn’t heal around it somehow.

Keith’s attention was admittedly elsewhere when the disorienting haze of pain granted him a few moments of clarity once he realized the only hands still touching him were Shiro’s.

It took him a while, but he was able to cut through the fog enough to vaguely tune in to what was going on around him. He has missed the beginning of the conversation that Shiro was having but it wasn’t hard to piece together what was happening.

“The process should be relatively seemless if I use this—“ Coran noted grimly as he presented Shiro with a scalpel that had a cord attached to the end of it “—the scarring will already be minimal given the pod’s capabilities and the fact that these are mostly second degree, but in order to remove the bits that remain I must burn number four again to sever what joins his flesh to the undersuit...”

Shiro had figured as much and so had Keith.

Well no, his addled brain hadn’t figured much of anything coherent in a while, he just wasn’t surprised to hear that it was the only solution.

Keith wouldn’t consider himself as handy as Hunk or Pidge but he knew his way around tools from having a bike and living on his own for so long. And he couldn’t come up with anything else on hand other than a hot knife that would do that kind of job either.

He also didn’t really care how they did anything anymore. He didn’t have the energy to when all he wanted was for this to be over.

Exhaustion seeped into his bones like radiation, clogging the channels in his marrow where his blood should flow and making his entire body feel so very heavy. It was the kind of weight that lulled you into a deep sleep, yet Keith remained awake, his nerves fried and his mind wired.

Shiro sighed, bowing his head to catch Keith’s pleading eyes one last time before nodding, giving Coran the go ahead.

It’s not that Coran was hiding the tool from the other paladins or what it did, that much was sort of obvious. It’s just that the question didn’t concern them, the decision wasn’t theirs to make. Shiro was their unofficial health proxy now that they were in space and called these kind of shots for all of them, but that was especially true for Keith since he’d already sort of been doing so back at the garrison before Kerberos.

The paladins were of course privy to deciding what happened to their own bodies regarding altean remedies or lesser pod stays since some of the options are pretty out there and if they aren’t absolutely necessary, then they aren’t mandated. But all decisions were passed by Shiro who ensured that their younger counterparts were entirely clear on what they were or were not agreeing to before Coran or Allura did anything, given the situation allotted time to take such measures.

This is one of the rare instances where Shiro had little choice in how to handle the matter. There was only one option and Keith would continue to suffer if he wasted time worrying about what none of them could control.

And it wasn’t even that he was too out of it to know what this meant and be able to deliver the green light himself, the fear on his face when Coran said ‘burn’ was more than apparent. But the kid was so goddamned rational about things no one his age should be able to rationalize that it was clear he had already evaluated and come to terms with the predicament in those brief moments of hesitation before Shiro agreed.

His eyes fall closed again and Shiro thinks he can hear the screams already.

The gravity of the decision seemed to dawn on everyone else a beat later, an anticipatory silence replacing the anguished weight that hung on all of them seconds before.

Everything moved slowly for a moment, the rise of chests halted, the chitter of mice quieting while they searched the princess’s face for answers until reality crashed back down on the castleships’ inhabitants like the tidal surge of a hurricane. The green tinge on Hunk’s face deepened several shades and Allura absently slid a waste bin closer to him, her movements robotic, like she wasn’t all there anymore. Pidge’s sobs from her helpless position on the adjacent cot were almost as painful to hear as Keith’s.

The only one to contest the idea was Lance, the sheer horror of what was about to happen registering on the blue paladin’s face like it was a death sentence for his friend.

“No, that’s torture! You can’t possibly think that’s a good idea, it’s barbaric, it’s—“

“Lance, calm down.”

“I will not calm down! Don’t you see how insane this is?!”

“There’s nothing else we can do. Don’t you see where the hell we are? We’re in space. We are light years away from human healthcare, we kind of have to work with the resources that we have!”

“But there has to be another way! I don’t understand why you’re not trying to figure something else out first... haven’t you hurt him enough today, Shiro? For fuck’s sake, aren’t you supposed to be his br—“

“Do it—” Keith punches out in a harsh whisper, effectively silencing the argument “—j-just do it already.”

His voice was gravelly and weak from all the shouting, his waning energy evident in the exasperated punctuation of his words. He’s fairly sure he won’t remain conscious long enough to be truly traumatized by the a procedure and was growing more irritated the longer they delayed it.

Keith appreciated that Lance had a conscience but also knew full well that he was stuck on the agony he was emoting since he usually never emoted at all, and probably not imagining just how awful it must actually be if he was advocating that more pain be inflicted so the sweet relief of the pod came sooner.

Lucky for him, Coran seemed to grasp the concept well enough on his own.

“Alright my boy, as you wish... Allura you might want to grab something for him to bite down on.”

What remained of the upper half of his under suit lay on him in tatters, his back bare except for the front section beneath him with strips of black littered over the table and floor. There’s a square of material missing on his thigh but the rest of the bottom portion is pretty much in tact.

The wounds looked worse free of all the blood and shredded bits. Like so much worse. But Keith didn’t have to see or be told how horrible it looked, he already knew that however bad it appeared, it hurt a thousand times worse.

“I have a topical anesthetic here that should numb the surface tissue but I’m afraid I can’t make any promises about nerve pain that might go deeper... it will still hurt a great deal.”

Talking was hard. He didn’t have the energy to stay awake let alone speak, but since his body was denying him that mercy, he figured forcing himself to communicate might speed the process along.

“Kay... s’fine,” was all he managed in response, his head swimming slightly as he forced the words out.

Allura’s face came into view then, smiling with so much sadness behind it as she lowered a hand to Keith’s flushed and tear stained cheek, gently coaxing him into opening his mouth.

He was sort of confused as to why until she brought a small hand towel folded in a tight roll up to his chin. His eyes widened a bit but he hummed in understanding and parted his blood encrusted lips so she could place it between his teeth.

They hadn’t had a chance to fuss over the gash on his face with everything else they were focused on but he was also very much laying on top of it. The cut itself also didn’t appear to be giving him much of an issue, but the fact that he was resting his cheek in an ever dampening rag as it caught his blood was woefully uncomfortable, the swelling laceration under his eye endlessly agitated with every reflexive jerk.

The sight might’ve been more alarming if his back wasn’t so horrific.

Shiro searched Keith’s lidded eyes when Coran pressed a button that had the tool whirring to life with a warm orange glow before he set it aside to warm up. They were sluggish and bloodshot and slow enough in meeting his gaze that would’ve had him majorly concerned should he not already have dozens other reasons to be.

“The spray might sting a bit at first... just bear with me lad.”

Coran’s voice was pinched and level, his statements clinical and his hands deft.

He’d already gathered that Keith didn’t need things explained before they were done like Shiro who needed to feel like he was in control of his own body when being tended to, or Pidge and her unwavering need to know absolutely everything ever, or Hunk and his already debilitating anxiety regarding the unknown.

No, he was like Lance who didn’t want the details, didn’t need to know what was happening or when. In fact, he reacted worse when he knew.

Keith needed things done without preamble. It didn’t matter how much it would hurt, he just needed it to hurt before the anticipation that it was about to could consume him. And Coran would do whatever he could to ease the red paladin then, so if that meant working fast than he would work fast.

“Nngh...” Keith choked out against the towel, nearly gagging on it when his entire body jerked as soon as Coran started spraying despite the medicine running through his body to specifically lessen reactions like that. But the man didn’t slow once he started, not even for Keith’s muffled pleas.

The spray did in fact sting. It stung a lot.

His head flew back and his eyes screwed shut as he struggled to breathe through the application, jerking despite himself each time the liquid landed on his raw and burning wounds.

The cloth trapped between his clenched teeth had him sputtering on the spit in his mouth and he almost welcomed the fear that flooded his body when his throat closed to keep from inhaling it.

“I know, bud... looks like just a bit more and then hopefully some relief.”

Shiro looked so young when he was like this, the knitted worry lines on his forehead almost out of place for the age he looked then. Keith didn’t like seeing him like that, it’s what he looks like when he’s having a rough day with his ptsd, so he closed his eyes against the tears that were brimming in the corners of them and took in long, purposeful inhales while Coran finished up.

He felt it as soon as the anesthetic started working, a discernible cold partially quenching each tiny inferno that was at the center of his injuries. It didn’t do much more than place a lid on the fires, not putting anything out completely but it was something and had him sagging into the table at the small bit of respite.

“I’ll be right here the entire time, okay? Coran will try to be as quick as he can but you can do this Keith, you’re strong, I know you can do this...” Shiro rambled, his timbre still subdued and settling.

It was nonsense. It was absolute nonsense he was babbling but the older boy’s voice never wavered and the constant presence of it hung on Keith’s battered body like a warm blanket, soothing the biting chill of anticipation that spread over it before the endless waves of agony started all over again.

“It’s going to be okay, bud.”

Keith clung to his words like they were a broken board from a sinking ship, the only buoyant thing in sight that could keep him from sinking right down with it.

“It’ll be over soon...”

He felt himself physically calming the longer he spoke until suddenly his chest didn’t feel as tight.

“...and then you can rest.”

Because he believed him. He believed that Shiro wouldn’t tell him he would be okay if it wasn’t true.

“We’ll get you set up in the pod...”

And for just a second, he actually believed it would end, that it wouldn’t last forever.

“...and then you’ll start to heal...”

The breaths he took were urgent, almost greedy as he relished in the temporary peace from everything. From the pain, from his anxiety, from feeling so fucking helpless.

“...just a little longer. I promise.”

Shiro made a point not to make many promises to Keith, even if he never planned on being anything other than good on them. He knew that too many had been broken for him to trust a vow like that. The words were empty, just another tool for people he trusted to bait him with before they left.

In Keith’s experience, everyone always left.

“I am going to begin now, remember to breathe lad...”

Before Keith had been holding back most of his exclamations of pain, biting his lip or cheek and setting his jaw to swallow them back before they escaped.

He wasn’t exactly sure what it was that made that impossible now, maybe since he knew the pain would be insurmountably worse or maybe because his body was too tired to expend that kind of energy anymore, either way the only thing muffling the sounds then was the towel keeping him from biting clean through his tongue.

The way his back arched when Coran brought the scalpel down looked like it shouldn’t have been possible in his condition. Keith didn’t know it was possible either but wasn’t too focused on the logistics with how intensely his lungs were screaming as he realized he could no longer move air in or out with how shocking the pain was.

It was like he’d been electrocuted, his muscles spasming and his nerves glitching in override.

“Shit, someone help me hold him down... come on damnit, hold him still!” Shiro ordered when it was apparent that Keith was incapable of controlling his reactions as Coran kept at it with the tool.

The movements were violent and quick, more convulsions than Keith’s own will, but they happened with each slice which made it difficult for Coran to work, so Hunk and Lance repositioned themselves on either side of the table and pinned his chest down wherever was most absent of injury while Shiro kept his head still and attempted to talk him through it.

Allura wasn’t having much luck in soothing Pidge either who was hysterical with her hands clamped over her ears. The guilt she felt over being the reason Keith was now in such intense pain was overwhelming and the princess was deeply concerned that she was going to make herself sick or reopen her only somewhat mended wound.

“Huh, huhh, huh... AHGh!”

Coran ignored how his fingers were blistering from working around the red paladin’s struggles.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry...”

Apologies were pouring out of Shiro like his own blood would.

But Lance didn’t buy them. He couldn’t grasp how their infallible leader missed someone being injured this severely.

And for it to be Keith of all people.

He’d spent half of his young adult life on his own, looking out for himself, no other support. He wasn’t used to having a team to look out for him especially since the last time anyone had was when Shiro had taken him under his wing. Shiro who had pretty much promised not to give up on him only to leave for Kerberos and never come back.

And what’s worse, as if anything could get worse at this point, was that Keith genuinely hadn’t wanted their help. He would’ve insisted he was okay whether or not his injuries were known regardless, but Shiro overlooking him in the heat of the moment had only fueled his warped view on taking care of things himself. It made him think he didn’t deserve any help, like he was being selfish for even suggesting he might not be okay when Pidge was also hurt.

It wasn’t true. But Lance knew that Keith couldn’t always decipher those kinds of things, the subtle messages in tonality that other people would’ve instantly picked up as, ‘no, I don’t actually hate you’ but completely eluded him.

Because Keith was extremely literal. He was also a self sacrificial idiot. Kinda like Lance. Not the literal thing, Lance almost never spoke literally.

But Shiro knew that, he knew that Shiro knew all of that about Keith and yet here they were.

His eyes were glossy and he was livid. It didn’t make any sense. They were supposed to look out for each other. It was Shiro’s whole philosophy and here he was, a complete hypocrite.

Pidge let out a strangled hitch then that broke Lance’s focus on analyzing whatever the hell had gone down on that mission.

The guilt was raging an almost identical fire in her chest, licking at her lungs like there was lighter fluid on them and threatening the sinews that had just barely latched across the chasm in her abdomen.

Hunk wished he could cry, wished he didn’t have to be so close to the terrible mess that was his friends’ back or the sounds he was making.

He didn’t know how many more he could stand to hear. How many more times he could handle the pang of terror in his chest when one escaped the lips of either of his friends.

Anytime anyone was hurting he felt like he was too. Like he had an access pass to their pain or some wicked ability to envision exactly how it must feel. And between Keith bucking beneath his hands and the guttural groans smothered by the towel, Hunk’s stomach was flipping dangerously.

Keith’s strained huffs had turned into hysterical shouts.

“Coran,” Allura deadpanned, her voice low and deadly.

They’d started off with a sort of restraint but it hadn’t taken long for them to raise in volume. He hated it, he was too tired to be so vocal and his throat was aching, but he couldn’t help it.

If it was up to him he would’ve just relaxed and taken it. He was used to simply enduring in the moment and compartmentalizing as he went. He had no experience in allowing such real reactions, in being so vulnerable against his every will.

Taking it silently would’ve been just as painful, there was no changing that, but maybe then he wouldn’t have had to see everyone so upset.

But he couldn’t relax. And he couldn’t use his twisted reason to logic himself out of it.

“This is cruel-I can-I can ease his suffering with my powers, move aside and let me—“

“Princess.”

Coran sounded distressed, almost pained. It was the first hint of emotion he’d shown since they’d dragged Keith into medbay.

“You couldn’t heal him without going into a pod first or it would start depleting the quintessence of your life force... we don’t have time for that, you know what my answer is—“

“But it’s worth it! Just a second, even just a touch would make the world of a difference, please—“

“Allura... come on, let him work.”

Lance looked angry still, and Shiro wasn’t sure he blamed him anymore, but the princess’s voice was shaking and his hand on her arm was pulling her away from Coran gently.

And she let him, the sob that erupted from her throat startling everyone. But Lance was there, the usual smirk he wore when speaking to the princess noticeably absent as he braced his her shoulders because they were shaking too.

Shiro is pressing Keith’s chest down flat where Lance had been after he Coran hissed at the heat of the tool while he continued to thrash.

The energy in the room was so dark and heavy it was almost sinister.

But the worst part was seeing it on his face. The desperation in his expressions was gutting. It felt like a sort of betrayal, which in a way it was, but so was the alternative.

Shiro tried to keep up his rambles of assurance but found the sentiments catching in his throat.

It had become wildly apparent that they were more comforting to him than they were to Keith, but he repeated them still, the same nonsense over and over again like a prayer. The swipe of his metal thumb clearing the endless stream of tears out of his eyes was the only constant other than the sound of his own screaming sobs.

And the pain.

His sobs and the pain.

It was blinding and it was everywhere. He couldn’t get away from it. Couldn’t get away from himself or the terrible sounds he was making.

All of it was suffocating. The fire poker dragging against his already charred skin, the hands holding him still, Shiro’s words, his own cries, all of it.

The air was filled with a bitter and nauseating heat, the smell of his own flesh burning permeated it and made him cry harder.

He wanted to throw up, wanted to pass out, hell if he died right there he wouldn’t have even minded.

He just wanted everything to stop.

He didn’t think he could stand much more of it but his body wouldn’t give in. His screams had morphed into one piercing and continuous wail as every limit he had was tested and shattered.

Keith thought he could handle pain fairly well, but this was absurd. This pain was otherworldly.

It’s only when he spits the rag out for the millionth time and begins chanting his own prayer that Shiro really wavered, his hand halting abruptly as he went to put it back between his teeth before they tore through his tongue the next time Coran moved his tool.

But Coran had taken the glowing metal away for a moment and was fiddling with something, so when Shiro leaned in to replace the cloth he could finally make out what he was saying.

“...D-d-d-da-dad... pl-please, dad... dad m-make it st-stop... dad...”

The words were slurred and barely audible with how wrecked his throat was, but there was no denying it.

“Oh, Keith...” Shiro breathed before his jaw was working to muffle his own pitiful sounds.

He was in such a delirium that he was calling out for his father, the man who Keith hadn’t called out to in years because he was dead. He’d left him in the most final way someone could leave.

Shiro didn’t know how many promises his death might’ve broken, just that the words Keith was uttering were what finally broke him.

Allura’s cheeks were still wet with tears but stepped forward anyway and moved the towel back into place, her hands running through and smoothing down Keith’s wild locks all tossed out of place from writhing.

She bent down to speak softly into his ear, Shiro didn’t catch much over the ringing in his own while his eyes locked into place on the towel in his mouth and the blood staining his chin and neck, though he thought he heard something about him being strong, him doing so well...

“Shiro.”

The hand on his arm didn’t make him jump because he couldn’t feel it. The room was expanding and he was shrinking because Keith’s whimpering was beginning to sound like the despairing cries before someone or something died in the arena.

The arena...

His eyes open wide and flit around wildly, the room abruptly fitting back to size.

“Huh?”

Shiro was good at snapping himself back to reality when he needed to, good at functioning at half capacity just to see through whatever he was in the middle of until it was safe to let the lights of the arena bleed into his present.

Not that acknowledging his memories was ever safe. And not that reliving them in his cabin was any safer.

Just easier.

“What is it?”

“I’m starting again...”

He hadn’t noticed that he’d backed up into Pidge’s bed or that her tiny hand had wound its way into his.

“...and he’s asking for you.”

“Right.”

His voice was sturdy again, hands no longer trembling. He could do this.

The whirring of the tool sounds too much like his metal arm, it glows orange instead of purple but that doesn’t seem to matter because it’s cutting into Keith’s skin all the same and the screams that escape his mouth cut into Shiro just as bad.

But he pushes it all away. He can unpack the emotions that rise up with it later but Keith needed him now.

The initial twitches that wracked his brutalized frame when Coran brought the tool back down had Allura turning away and the smoke that rose up with the first slice had Hunk clamping a hand over his mouth and nose. But the princess’s hand never stopped brushing through his hair and Hunk kept the grip on his shoulder firm.

They could feel his muscles loosening, could feel the power of each jerk dwindling.

And then they watched with heavy consciences as even his steady cries quieted, his body finally waving the white flag.

“I’m sorry...”

Shiro chanted it so many times that the syllables blended together and turned into something else altogether.

Keith’s breathing was more erratic than it ever had been and it didn’t seem like he could see straight anymore so Shiro lowered his forehead to Keith’s and draped his metal arm over his neck.

Both were damp with sweat that created condensation on his hand, his hair wet with it and plastered all over, but Shiro couldn’t find it in him to care. He needed him to know that he was there, that he hadn’t left.

“I’m here, Keith. And I’m sorry...”

But his cheeks were flushing with something other than straight up exertion. And Shiro felt it, felt his hand go cold while all the blood raced to his head. He knew what was happening but he wasn’t worried.

He was relieved.

“I’m so sorry...”

The rag falls out again because his jaw had gone slack and his eyes were rolling to the back of his head. Shiro didn’t move to fix it.

His breathing still irregular but falling into a more even rhythm.

Lance looks stricken and Hunk is rather green when they let go and step back.

Pidge had finally found the ability to relax abs was slumping into the bed, eyes glued to Coran’s hand who was still not done.

Still not okay. Still not in a pod, but no longer in pain.

Hunk took exactly one deep breath before devolving into tears. He was done being strong, but Lance never seems to get the luxury and was pulling him into a hug that didn’t have him standing any straighter or have his chest working any less, but it was something.

Coran’s hands move slow and he doesn’t seem to feel the red welts on his fingertips from wrestling with his tools. But he looked more at ease with Keith blissfully unconscious, like he was breathing again.

Shiro was still holding Keith’s hand. It was ice cold and looking sort of blue with the white blotches dotting it. He leaves his other hand on his neck where his skin is hotter, figuring if the cool metal could be useful for anything other than killing, it might just be that.

Lance eyes the distance in Shiro’s gaze, the rigidity in his movements, and he thinks he understands. He thinks he can overlook his anger to remember that the guy is still human.

He’s almost scared that he was speaking out loud when Shiro rakes his grey pinpoints around the room, not appearing to actually see any of it before passing over Lance’s briefly. Hunk has his head burrowed in his chest as he fights to regain his composure but he musters up a small smile for him despite being otherwise occupied.

It’s a peace offering. A sad one at that, the corners of his mouth barely perking up, but it’s something.

Shiro wasn’t sure if he returned it but his heart felt lighter once Lance did that.

The energy in the room was still buzzing but it was less stifling, not as heavy as it had been moments ago.

The artificial sunlight starts to turn purple again and he can hear desperation mix into the buzz and for a second Shiro is worried that Keith has woken up. In a bit of a panic he drags his gaze back down to find his eyes still closed and his face still scrunched up like he hadn’t escaped the pain entirely with sleep.

But that was infinitely better than him sounding like them, the dying things he was hearing.

He vaguely wondered if the medbay was a safe enough place to let the purple flood in and ultimately decided that it didn’t matter.

He’d staved it off long enough, was strong for Keith when he needed him to be.

And so he lets himself drift.

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foilfreak · 3 years

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BEAUTY AND HER BEAST: Chapter 9 (temporary 1-2 week hiatus being taken from his fic, click ao3 link and read end notes to find out why. I WILL BE COMING BACK!!!)

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 link below)

Despite the shrill echo of Nadine’s terrified voice being something Salvatore has prepared himself for since before the young woman even arrived in the reservoir, the real thing was still somehow 100 times worse than he could have ever imagined it being.

Chaos followed as Salvatore frantically left his hiding spot, crawling across the floor as quickly as his mangled body would allow, as a loud crashing sound vibrates the whole room once Nadine’s body finally lands, quite uncomfortably I might add, on the hardwood of the floor. The sudden frantic and terrified swinging of her arms following Salvatore’s verbal slip knocked the poor woman off balance, sending her right back down to the floor for a second time.

Staring at the writhing figure of Nadine from the other corner across the room, Salvatore sniffles pitifully to himself as tears cascade down his face. Oh how appropriately cruel, that the universe wouldn’t even give Salvatore the decency of a proper meeting with Nadine, much less a chance at friendship and even less at anything past that. It makes perfect sense that this would be the way Nadine found out how disgusting and pathetic he is. Sitting alone in a dark and dingy room, watching old romance films because he has no one of his own to hold and love like the men in the movies do, and eating entire blocks of cheese all on his own, because nothing pairs with unending loneliness like the tang of sharp cheddar and the horrible stomach ache that follows it.

Putting his hands up to cover his face, a final effort to hide himself away from the beautiful woman’s gaze, Salvatore merely sat in his new corner, his shoulders shaking with sobs of agony and his body trembling in fear as Nadine’s gaze finally locked on to him, and him alone this time, in the dark silence of the room.

“H-Hey… are you alright? I’m sorry I yelled like that, I didn’t mean to startle you like that, but you suddenly spoke up out of nowhere and it scared me half to death” The soft voice from across the room asks, causing Salvatore to pause in his moment of self-loathing. Did… did she just ask him if he was alright? Wasn’t he the one who was supposed to ask her that?

“W-what…?” Salvatore chokes out, peering out slightly from behind the cover of his hood in confusion. The sight he’s met with is one that steals his breath away, much like the first time he laid eyes upon the stunning beauty this tiny woman held. However, unlike their “first” meeting, that took place back in Mother Miranda’s lab, this time there was no metal pod separating the two, Salvatore realized, as the sight of Nadine, slouched tiredly on the ground barely a few feet away from where he cowered in the corner, registered in the mutant man’s mind.

Next, of course, came her actual appearance. Black strands tousled messily across her forehead framed her round face and golden eyes perfectly. Her long white dress bunched up around her upper thighs, revealing the curves of her large, but muscular legs, that had previously been obscured by the material of her dress. Slouched shoulders and heavy breathing caused the material of Nadine’s nightgown to slowly inched its way down the front of her chest, not exposing her necessarily, but definitely revealing more and more of her lusciously plump breasts with every harsh up and down of her shoulders.

Tears continued to fall from Salvatore’s eyes even as saliva began to fill his mouth and his fear and self-loathing slowly gave way to the growing fire beginning to kindle in the pit of his stomach. The sound of his muffled sobs of anguish and arousal escaping from behind his hands causes Nadine’s face to immediately fall, agony replacing the previously wild look her face held.

“N… N-no. No no, please don’t cry. It’s alright. I-I-I’m not going to hurt you… I mean it… see… I don’t have any weapons on me” Nadine says hurriedly, standing up and doing a spin to show that nothing that could pose potential harm to Salvatore was hiding between the folds or frills of the thin garment. “See! Nothing to hide.”

Salvatore merely closed his tear soaked eyes and shook his head, the motion moving his whole body along with it. “Nooooooooooo… y-you d-don’t… under-s-stand…”

“What do you mean? What don’t I understand?” Nadine asked, kneeling back down to the ground, moving slightly closer to Salvatore than she was before, a terrifyingly genuine look of concern and worry etched into her beautiful features.

The mutant man fought back a wave of nausea and choked on a sob at the angelic sight. Hoards of hormones equating to despair and arousal battle within the hellish confines of Salvatore’s brain. The mutant man was filled with so many mixed emotions that he genuinely couldn’t tell if he wanted to tear himself apart until not a scrap of evidence of his existence remained, or if he wanted to just spring forward and consume the delectably dangerous morsel that sat so prettily before him, like an octopus latching itself upon the almighty great white shark as it just passes above their home, pulling the now helpless and unsuspecting predator down into the depths of a true monster’s domain.

“Hey, come on now. It sounds like you’re having a hard time breathing. Why don’t you come out of the corner where the air’s a little fresher, ya?” The young woman coaxes gently, moving ever so slightly closer to Salvatore as she speaks. The movement does not go unnoticed by the hooded man, nor does the way it pushes her dress even further up her already decently exposed thighs, but with little ability to stop Nadine’s incremental advances, Salvatore merely buries his face into his hands, blocking as much of his disgustingly bloated maw as he possibly could, even as the young woman attempted to change her angle to get a better look at him.

“P-p-please… jus-just stop!” Salvatore commands, suddenly filled with a wave of confidence that abandons him just as quickly as it arrived. “j-j-j… j-just… g-go… please…”

A light mist has become visible in the light reflecting off of Nadine’s eyes, the young woman looking truly saddened by the strange man’s utter rejection of her. Whether it was out of pity for Salvatore’s sake, or fear of her own impending isolation should the likes of Salvatore even reject her company, the hooded man could neither tell, nor did he really want to know.

“Well that’s not a very nice thing to say to someone trying to be your friend now is it? I might not look as normal as I used to but I’m not here to cause any trouble” Nadine scolds lightly, her voice strong, though even Salvatore can detect a slight wobble. “But… if you can give me a valid reason why I should leave, then… then I’ll do it, no questions asked.”

A valid reason? What other reason did she need than to get away from him?

Salvatore takes a moment to wipe away some of the tears that coated his face, slightly peeking out to look at the younger woman once again before speaking. “Y-you… you can’t… s-stay here… th-this place… it i-isn’t… isn’t g-good enough f-for you… it’s… i-its not w-worthy… I-i… I’m… n-not worthy… of you…”

Nadine shifts slightly closer once again, a pained look cut into her face like a raging storm cuts through large waves out in the open ocean. Her whole body was a sea of turbulent waters as she gingerly reached her hand forward, slowly but surely inching her way closer to Salvatore, until her wine dark fingers just barely brushed against the thick, rugged fabric of his overcoat.

Silence befell the two mutants, permeating the room with tension so thick and heavy Salvatore thought he might suffocate.

The cornered man could not bring himself to look up as Nadine’s delicate fingers gently latched on to the article of clothing covering his wretched and disgusting form. Salvatore shuddered as he prepared himself for what was inevitably to come once Nadine removed his overcoat: the biting cold of the surrounding area pinching and nipping at his thick, but sensitive flesh; another shrill shriek of fear and terror that would pierce him to his very core; the sound of Nadine, beautiful, gorgeous, perfect, immaculate Nadine, fleeing not just the underground tunnels that had lead her to discover this place, but also the reservoir, never to be seen again.

Salvatore wouldn’t blame her for this choice, of course. After all, it’s what he would do if he found himself trapped with a wretched creature as grotesque and pitiful as he himself was. Death wasn’t an option Salvatore had the luxury of entertaining, but he never blamed others if they chose it over him.

He would too, if he could.

Despite his earlier expectations, the hand on his coat never moves to take the garment off the trembling man, instead, moving to gently run along the side of Salvatore’s head, down his shoulders, before resting itself softly, but firmly, along the area of growths that covered the small of his back. After taking a moment to allow the violent trembling of Salvatore’s body, in response to the young woman’s gentle caresses, to calm down to something more manageable, Nadine slowly lifts her left hand and rests it on the opposite side of the hunched-over man’s head, yet she makes no move to try and take his cloak off or remove his face from his hands.

Stillness and silence return for a brief moment, almost as though Nadine were waiting for Salvatore to raise objection to her advances and stop her, as if he had the power or control to do anything but cower in the corner and cover his growing excitement in shame. With no explicit objections voiced, the hands resting gently around Salvatore began to slowly pull him toward Nadine’s body.

“Come here” Nadine’s soft, heavenly voice commands lightly, as Salvatore’s body does as instructed with no resistance whatsoever. A broken sob of humiliating arousal escapes the hooded man when he gently falls forward into Nadine’s lap, her arms quickly moving to wrap around and hold the hooded man against her soft, warm, and strong body.

“Shhhh, it’s alright. There’s no need to be so worked up. You have nothing to be afraid of, here” Nadine coos soothingly, as her hand gently caresses his thin, leather covered arm.

Salvatore cries pitifully as the painfully comforting words and actions make him want to vomit from overjoy. “Y-you… you d-dont unders-s-stand…” the hunched man weeps, his voice slightly muffled by his knees as he continues trying to hide his face by shoving it as far between his legs as he’s physically capable.

“What don’t I understand? Could you explain it to me?” Nadine asks, patiently holding the sobbing mess of a man firmly against herself as he collects himself enough to answer.

“I-it isn’t… you… th-that I f-fear…” Salvatore begins, trailing off as another wave of cold dread and fiery desire collide violently somewhere deep inside the hooded man’s chest.

“What is it that you’re afraid of then? If not... me?” The young woman’s angelic voice questioned, the slightly fearful and worried tone of her voice toward the end of her question, as if what Salvatore thought of her was even worth her precious time to worry about, made the mutant man’s stomach wretch sickeningly.

“I-I… I f-fear… oh god-” Salvatore began, before promptly shutting up and shoving Nadine as far away from him as he could from that angle, throwing himself to the floor, on his hands and knees, in the opposite direction just as a wave of acidic bile forces its way from the confines of the man’s mouth and out onto the floor in front of him. His own hideous reflection stares back at him in the growing puddle of stomach acid once he’s done.

A spiteful reminder from the universe of what he was and why he lived the way that he did.

Drunkenly reaching his hand forward to smear the vomit puddle around so he at least didn’t have to look at himself AND sit in his own filth while he gathered the energy to get up and wash off in the lake, Salvatore missed the way Nadine’s eyes narrowed in confusion at the man’s clumsy movements, before suddenly widening as she realized what the hooded man was doing.

“No, wait! Don’t touch that, it’ll only make you feel worse if you fiddle around with that nasty stuff” Nadine says hurriedly, as she rushes forward to take Salvatore’s moving hand in her own and presses it firmly against her bosom to prevent the man from playing around in his own throw up. She gasps in shock and her grip tightens around Salvatore’s hand, as though she’d suddenly remembered something important she’d forgotten about and Salvatore’s hand had brought it back to her conscious mind, before shaking her head and pulling herself from her thoughts.

“Oh, you poor thing! Here, let me wipe your face for you, and try to take deeper, slower breaths while you’re at it. You’ve managed to work yourself into such a panic that it's no wonder you’re throwing up all over yourself.”

The room is spinning far too fast and in far too many different directions for Salvatore to really be sure what’s going on, however the feeling of Nadine’s skin pressed against his own as she tenderly raised the edge of her pristine white dress to wipe away the lines of green acidic bile that had been left on Salvatore’s lip, was a sensation of euphoria unlike anything the hooded man has ever felt before in his entire life.

Not even Mother Miranda’s own embrace felt quite as… ‘brutal’ wasn’t the appropriate word to use based on its true definition, but in that instance it's the only word that Salvatore can think of to describe how intense everything around him, Nadine especially, feels at the present moment. Her touch, her scent, her warmth, her weight, her firm grip around him, the constant rhythmic thrum of her heart beat against his cold, bony hand, all of it was so intensely brutal that it was a wonder how the combined effect didn’t beat him into the floor. It was too much for Salvatore to handle all at once, and yet he knew that if the kind angel sitting next to him retracted so much as a single one of those sensations, he’d lose himself to insanity like careless swimmers lose themselves to sudden rapid currents.

Salvatore threw up 3 more times before his stomach finally allowed him the relief the hooded man had desperately been craving. The floor was an absolute mess by this point, but thanks to Nadine, who’d managed to keep his upper body upright the whole time, Salvatore hadn’t made nearly as much of a mess of himself as he normally did, though that still didn’t fix the primary problem that had resulted in all that vomiting.

“There we go. That must feel a lot better, huh?” Nadine asks calmly, pulling Salvatore in to rest against her chest once again, his face still turned downward and away in avoidance.

Although Salvatore does not grace her question with a response, the hooded man has long since given up trying to get away from the young woman, at this point just allowing her to move him however she pleased, taking in as much of her kindness and affection as he possibly could, before she inevitably hightails it out of here, of course. It was only a matter of time, at this rate.

“You know… you’re a lot bigger than I expected you to be” comes a sudden declaration from Nadine, breaking the silence that had permeated throughout the room and immediately pulling Salvatore from his dejected whimpering.

“I mean… I suppose I should have expected that, especially since most middle schoolers are taller than me, nowadays” the young woman continues with a lighthearted chuckle, “but you looked so small and stump-like from all the way up in that stupid pod that I couldn’t help but be a little surprised when I felt you had arms and legs. You could have very well had a snake for a body for all I knew and I still don’t think I’d have been as surprised, though this huge coat you're wearing certainly doesn’t make getting a good look at you very easy.”

“Th… that’s th-the point…” Salvatore mumbles, though seemingly more to himself than anyone else.

“Really? And why is that?” Nadine asks curiously, clearly having heard the older man’s muttering.

“I-if… if you k-knew me… you’d know… th-the answer to that q-question” Salvatore replies sadly, fresh tears beginning to prickle along his lower lid, threatening to spill over as the depressing reality of his meaningless existence makes itself more than obvious.

He was a filthy monster who deserved to spend the rest of his life alone and miserable, because why would something as unholy as him ever be worthy of anything else?

“Oh, now I don’t think that’s true at all. After all, I’d like to think I know you pretty well, and I still want to see what you look like” Nadine counters, her words shocking Salvatore beyond belief.

She… knew him? How? When? In what ways? What?

The only other time they’ve ever interacted was back in Mother Miranda’s laboratory. While the hooded man supposed his gifts could be aiding in Nadine’s surprisingly positive impression of him, he hesitated to call receiving a dress and a necklace from a random stranger “knowing” someone. How on earth could she say she knew him when, for all intents and purposes, they’ve only just met?

“B-b-but… h-how… how d-do you k-know… m-me? Y-you have… t-trouble… seeing… d-dont you? D-did… did y-you see me… b-back in the l-lab?” Salvatore asks, tears belonging to an unspecified emotion once again beginning to fall as a hand moves to gently grasp at the bones lining the top of his hood.

“Unfortunately no, I wasn’t able to get a good look at you before, hence why I was trying so hard to catch a glimpse of you earlier. You are, however, right in the assumption about my eyesight. I have severely impaired vision, yes, but it's manageable with a strong enough prescription; not that I see myself getting to an eye doctor anytime soon for a new pair of contacts. But even without my contact lenses, I can still make out general movements, as well as general shapes and colors, pretty easily from far away, it's just fine details from a distance and darkness that give me the most trouble. My vision is actually perfectly normal so long as whatever I’m looking at is within a few feet of me. If I looked down right now, I’d probably be able to see your face normally. Do you hide your face away from everyone around here?” the young woman asks curiously, gently pulling the dark fabric of the hood back, slowly revealing Salvatore’s face to the dim light of the room, even as her gaze remained locked on the wall behind them.

“N-not… e-everyone… th-there’s a f-few… who… who I sh-show my f-face to… regularly” Salvatore chokes.

Really?” Nadine asks, “like who?”

“M-my… siblings.”

“Oh, so you’re not the only one around here then? Are your siblings here in the reservoir?”

“N-no… th-they live… in o-other places… of th-their own… a-around the v-village.”

“Wow, so there is more of this place to explore, then!” Nadine states excitedly. “I’d love to get out and see more of the area for myself at some point, though I doubt that’s very wise given the amount of howling I’ve heard the past few nights and the fact I don’t know my way around this area... though, even if I did, that memory is probably long gone along with the fucking rest of them… not that I would have wanted to hold onto them anyways, I don’t think.”

Salvatore’s attention is caught by the last bit of Nadine’s statement, confusion filling him over what the younger woman could possibly mean by what she’d just said. “‘G-gone along w-with the rest o-of them?’... W-what… d-does that… what d-do you m-mean?”

Nadine remains silent for a moment as she continues to absentmindedly stroke the side of Salvatore’s head, the hooded man unable to tell what she could possibly be feeling right now without risking exposing his face to her.

Thankfully, Nadine resumes speaking before Salvatore loses patience and gets too risky. “My memory of the life I had before waking up in that damn pod is foggy at absolute best, but I don’t need my memories to know that I wasn’t very happy with my previous life and that I was actively trying to get away from it somehow. What exactly was I even running from and where was I going? Who knows, and frankly I don’t care to relearn it either. I do think it's quite funny that you were talking about me needing to go somewhere else because this place isn’t good enough for me though, because honestly, even if I could somehow get the hell out of here, it's not like I’d have anywhere else to go. Getting away from the shitty life I had before is probably how I ended up here to begin with, though if I’d known this was how things would end up I might have reconsidered throwing it all away so suddenly.”

Had it not been for Mother Miranda being there for him throughout the years, Salvatore would probably think much the same way as Nadine about the whole situation, but having Mother meant he always had a purpose and a goal to work towards, so it didn’t matter that Salvatore couldn’t return to his old life. What shocked the deformed man the most however, was the fact that Nadine appeared to not only already accept the fact that she couldn’t go back to her former life, but seemed to actively be searching for something, anything new to try and fill the void that had been left behind by the life she’d, more or less, willingly gave away to come up here.

Could… could this mean…?

“Thankfully my ability to make new memories doesn’t seem to have been fucked up at all, which I’m quite happy about since I'll be needing to make a lot to fill in the empty spaces in my brain. We met for the first time in the underground laboratory I was being kept in, though I suppose it was less ‘meeting’ and more ‘seeing’ for the first time, but… still. I don’t know why you were there, or who was with you at the time, but I remember waking up just before you were about to leave. There were a couple others who’d come, before you, to look at me and a couple others for some reason, but you were the one who stuck out the most, to me. You were… special!”

Shock and dumbfounded awe nearly choke the life right out of Salvatore. He could barely comprehend a single word the young woman was saying to him, yet he clung to every heavenly syllable she uttered like they were the foundations of the word of god itself. The pain and agony he normally felt due to his cadou mutations momentarily paused, slowly weaning from its usual constant thrum to a dull numbness that felt surprisingly euphoric in all it’s nothingness.

“S-special? Me?” Salvatore breathed, almost unable to believe the words, even as Nadine hummed in affirmation of their truth. “B-but… how…?”

The giddy chuckle Salvatore’s mundane question pulled from Nadine shook the deformed man to his very core. Her girlish laughter rattles violently around inside the deformed man’s head, playing the sweet, holy tune over and over again, like a broken record that Salvatore would happily go insane listening to for the rest of eternity if he could.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’d have assumed you knew exactly what you were doing with how sweetly you talked back there, why it's almost criminal how suavely you stroked and tugged at the strings of my delicate heart. All the others were so rude, boring, and/or annoying that I thought I might die if I ended up stuck with one of them, but then you came in and swept me right off my feet. It was like nothing else I’ve ever felt before and immediately told me that you weren’t like all the others, you were a kind man and if I ever ran into you I could tell I’d be able to trust you…” Nadine trails off for a moment. “When I learned that we were being moved out of containment and onto our “permanent homes”, I hoped and prayed that I’d be lucky enough to end up wherever you were, but I didn’t want to get too excited until I found out for certain.”

“Th-then how did y-you know… it-it was me?”

“How could I possibly not? You set yourself apart from all the others right out of the gate. I'm honestly shocked you don’t remember it yourself. But there's not a single doubt in my mind that I know exactly who you are… er- well, I suppose a more appropriate way of putting that would be “I know exactly who you are to me”, not that what other people say or think has ever really been something I’ve taken with more than a grain of salt” Nadine giggle beautifully, smiling kindly as she cradled Salvatore’s hoodless, tear soaked face against her, like he were the most precious thing she’d ever laid eyes upon and wanted to hold and protect him until the end of time.

Unable to look away any longer, Salvatore allows his head to rise from his knees until it settles upon the face of the woman currently cradling him in her arms. Her gaze remained turned away from Salvatore for a moment, though for some reason the hooded man had a feeling that it was more out of respect for him and his boundaries than a lack of desire to see his face.

What a strange thing, to be treated with more kindness, love, and respect from a complete stranger than from the majority of people you interact with.

Salvatore wanted to cry when Nadine’s golden eyes finally lowered to him, her face slowly shifting downwards until their noses were little more than an inch apart from one another, though whether his tears were from agony or ecstasy, even he couldn’t properly tell at the present moment. Only one question was on his mind and the deformed man would stop at nothing until he got an answer for it.

“W-who… who am I-I… t-to y-you?” Salvatore asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he forces himself to stare directly into the endless pool of honey yellow swirling around in her irises, wanting-no… needing to know, to see with his own two eyes, what exactly he was to this woman, and whether that answer would spell endless disaster for him and his deep seeded desires, or be the key that unlocks a world of possibilities almost as endless as the spheres of gold that Salvatore finds himself unable, or rather unwilling, to tear his gaze from, lest this be the first, and last time he ever be blessed enough to see them from this close.

A long moment of silence passes as Nadine returns Salvatores gaze, the fondness of her expression only growing as she lowers her forehead to rest against his, a soft, almost breathlessly enamored expression that he’d only seen on black and white screens cast toward men eons more pleasant to look at than he was, slowly spread across her perfect face as she finally answers Salvatore’s question.

“You’re the lovely man who held my hand!”

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