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pedrospatch · 5 months

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a safe haven l ten

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: After a long night, Joel and Ellie take you home.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF AN INJURY SUSTAINED FROM AN ACT OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, PREGNANCY, CONVERSATIONS SURROUNDING PREGNANCY LOSS . PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. Ellie and reader are very close to each other, Joel deals with feelings of guilt, Joel and Maria make nice, Joel gives reader a bath and washes her hair, food consumption (i am just gonna apologize to my lactose intolerant folks right now, trust me i must pretend with you), both reader and Joel have some big feelings, reader mentions her deceased father, angst, soft and domestic Joel, fluff.

word count: 5k

a/n: i have not updated this series since october. :l i feel a a mixed bag of emotions updating after all this time, but most of all, i am grateful to know there are a couple of people out there who are still invested in this story. to anyone who has been waiting: truly, it means the world that you have shown me patience, support, and kindness. believe me, i am going to be seeing this story to the end, and it is all thanks to those who continue to show this lil story of mine a whole lotta love. special shoutout to the loveliest human @mrsmando who made me this beautiful mooodboard every single time i got stuck during this chapter, i looked at it and it gave me the boost of inspiration i needed. thank you mimi <33 this chapter is fairly tame, the next chapter is already in the works, and there are a couple of time jumps coming. overall, we are down to the last handful of chapters. let’s finish this story and give these two the ending they deserve, shall we?

“What the hell is taking Tommy so fucking long?” Ellie whines. She’s sprawled out on the couch with her head in your lap, and her arm draped over her eyes. Her feet are hanging, dangling over the edge of the couch at an odd angle after you’d warned her not to get muck from her sneakers on the linen fabric. Despite Joel insisting over and over that she head on back to the house, she had stubbornly refused, not wanting to leave your side. “It’s been over two hours! He’s taking fucking forever, man. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Joel bites back a sigh, masking his own impatience. Or at least, he tries. He’s grown just as restless as the kid, if not more. Much like Ellie, he’s desperate. He’s itching to take you home already, almost too anxious to watch you take that first step over his threshold, and into your new life with him and with Ellie. He aches, aches, to get you settled into the place where you would be spending the remainder of your days with one another, where you would be safe, and loved in the way you deserved to be loved—the place where he would cherish and adore you until his final breath.

“Don’t know,” he answers, his voice sounding rougher, more gruff than usual. Reaching up, he scrubs his hand down the side of his face, adding tiredly, “He might be a while longer, kiddo. It could be another hour, could be more. Like I already told you, s’probably best if you just go on and head back to the house without us, alright?”

“No. I’m not walking out that fucking door unless she’s with me.” She pauses and pulls her arm away from her face for a moment, just long enough to throw a teeny glare his way. “Unless you’re both with me. The three of us go home together, or it’s no fucking deal. Got it?”

He shakes his head in utter exasperation.

“Ellie, we’ll be right here down the fuckin’ road—”

Her hand shoots out and she flips him off.

Just when he’s about to chastise her, he stops himself, clamping his mouth shut. It’s pointless.

Kid’s too goddamn hard headed for her own good, and Joel knows he’s just wasting his breath with her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you reassure them both, weaving your fingers through her hair to scratch at her scalp in an effort to soothe her. “Right, Joel?”

He meets your exhausted, worn down gaze from where he’s standing across the room, and his heart lurches in his chest. As the guilt begins creeping in, he’s forced to look away. He can’t imagine the living hell you had been through over the last twenty four hours alone. And the worst part about it was the realization that last night, while he was fast asleep in bed just a couple of houses up the road, that fucking bastard had his belt wrapped around your throat.

Joel feels sick to his fucking stomach all over again.

Horrifying, vividly real images of you helplessly trapped underneath Luke scratching and clawing at the leather around your neck with trembling fingers, struggling to breathe oxygen into your burning lungs as he tugged it tighter and tighter through the buckle flash in his mind, a gruesome nightmare turned into reality.

Exactly how far had Luke taken it?

Until you had grown too weak to keep fighting?

Until you almost lost complete consciousness?

Until he noticed the life threatening to leave your eyes?

Is that when he had finally stopped pulling on the belt?

Joel shudders, a bitter taste climbing up his throat as it sinks in. He could have lost you—and his unborn child.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He shouldn’t have let you walk away that night.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let you walk away from him that night.

“Joel,” you say his name, quiet and weary.

His head snaps back in your direction and he glances at you, almost missing the subtle shake of your head. It is a silent warning telling him not to go there, though you know by the tight clench of his jaw it’s too late for that.

Joel makes the futile attempt to hide it, but he sees it written all over your face—you know what he’s thinking because you know him like the back of your own hand, and you just know he’s placing all of the blame for what happened to you on his own shoulders.

But can you honestly fault him for that?

How can you expect him not to feel like he is somehow responsible for this? Just how the hell is he supposed to make himself believe he hadn’t failed you?

Joel promised—he had fucking promised you—that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. He had sworn to keep you safe, made a vow to protect you from Luke, but here you are, your soft, delicate flesh marred with the painful evidence of yet another one of his failures.

And it was all because he had let you walk away on that fucking night.

He should have done something.

Even if it meant running the risk of you never speaking to him again—even if you never forgave him, spent the rest of your life angry and hating him for going against your wishes. He should have something.

“Joel—”

“Be right back,” he mutters, lightly shaking his head.

Shoving away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and starts down the hallway. He walks into the kitchen where he finds Maria standing at the counter, tapping her fingers against the smooth, laminated oakwood as she waits for the coffee she’d offered him a few minutes ago to finish brewing. She’d offered to whip up a quick supper, but food was the last thing on everyone’s mind.

“Tommy’s been gone for a couple hours now. Girls are startin’ to get real tired of just sittin’ around waitin’ for him to come back,” he tells her, exhaling the sigh he’d held back in the living room. “What do you think could be keepin’ him so long?”

With her back still to him, Maria reminds him, “Well, he did mention he was going to round up the council and get them together for an emergency meeting.” She lets out a sigh that matches his own—it’s been a long night for her, too. When the last drop of dark roast drips into the glass pot, she carefully takes the pot by the plastic handle and pours the steaming coffee into a speckled, white and blue ceramic mug. “Do you take it with milk and sugar?”

“No thanks, that’s alright,” he declines as politely as he can.

“I also have cinnamon if you’d like?”

“Plain black’s just fine.” He gives her a nod of gratitude when she hands it to him. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean the coffee, but for, uh—for bandagin’ up my hand for me, too.” He clocks the brief look of surprise on her face and almost laughs. He doesn’t blame her for being taken aback, because truth be told, so is he. Since he’d met Maria, he had known she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, a silent agreement they had made to keep each other at arm’s length, to only interact when it was absolutely necessary.

Never did he think he would be standing in her kitchen, thanking her for patching up his hand, and for making him a cup of coffee out of the kindness of her heart.

His brother wouldn’t believe it.

“Don’t mention it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans back against the counter. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“S’fine,” he replies, shrugging. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

There’s a momentary silence. A taste of tension lingers over their heads, and he knows at one point or another, he’s going to have to address the affair, the very reason everything had unfolded in such a terrible manner.

Guess now’s as good a time as fuckin’ any, he thinks to himself with an inward sigh.

Joel lightly clears his throat. “Listen, since we’ve got a minute alone, just the two of us, I was wonderin’ if, uh—if we could talk ‘bout somethin’? If that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Maria gives him the floor.

“I know that she—” Pausing, he shuffles from the heel of one boot to the other, his ears burning hot. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be, regardless of what she already knew. “I know she told you and Tommy all ‘bout us, and ‘bout our relationship. See, the thing is, the first time I saw her—”

Again, Joel stops, the burning sensation now radiating, spreading from his ears to his face and down his neck, flushing his skin a deep, deep shade of pink. Unable to meet his sister in law’s gaze, he glances down into his mug, as if he will somehow find the right words to say somewhere in the depths of his coffee.

“It was never my intention, y’know,” he finally says after a minute. “Goin’ after a married woman. I swear, I never meant to fall for her. I just fuckin’ did. I think I might’ve fallen for her long before I even met her,” he confesses. He feels himself darken to a shade of maroon under her curious stare. “And somehow, for reasons I ain’t all too sure I’ll ever understand, she fell for me too.”

Maria raises an eyebrow at him. “Look, I’m not judging you, Joel,” she assures him, shaking her head. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not judging her, either.”

He looks up at her, blurting out, “You’re not?”

She moves her hands to cradle her swollen middle. “Do I wish you two had handled everything differently?” she answers her own query with a nod of her head. “Oh, I’m sure we all do. But I’ve known her for a long time now. I know the kind of woman she is. And I’m starting to see the kind of man you are.”

“And what kinda man is that, Maria?”

He waits without the slightest clue as to what she could possibly say.

“Since you came back to Jackson, I’ve chosen to keep my distance from you—but make no mistake, I��ve been watching you like a hawk since day one. Waiting for any signs of trouble. Waiting for you to fuck up. Waiting for you to give me a good reason to throw your ass out of this community because I didn’t trust you. Not after all the things I was told about you.”

He snorts. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You are not who I thought you were,” Maria admits, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotten to see a different side of you. You pull your weight around here by doing your job and doing it well. You stay out of trouble—for the most part. And more importantly, I have seen the way that you’ve stepped up to be a father figure to Ellie. It takes a good man to do that, Joel.”

“Think that’s the nicest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses, setting his mug down on the counter. “I stepped up because I love her. I love them both. Those two, they’re the best parts of me. They’re the reasons I keep goin’ and now I’ve got another reason on the way.”

Maria smiles, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Catching her hesitance, Joel asks, “What? What is it?”

“What comes next is not going to be easy,” she warns him, lowering her voice. Even with the living room a fair distance from the kitchen, she doesn’t want to run the risk of you overhearing her. “For as hard as we’re going to try to contain the fire, it will spread, and everyone in this town will find out about everything—including the affair. People are going to talk, and believe me, they’re going to have a whole lot to say about it, Joel.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Think I can handle some fuckin’ gossip, Maria.”

“I know you can. But I’m not sure if she can,” Maria tells him, quietly. “It worries me. She’s been through a lot in just one night alone. I don’t want her stressing anymore than she already has. She is in a very delicate stage of her pregnancy right now, Joel. If she’s not careful, she could have a miscarriage. She had one about two years ago when her father became sick—” Observing his lack of a reaction, she realizes, “You knew that already.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He knows where she’s going with this. “I did. She told me ‘bout it.”

“It makes her chances of having another one higher—”

Joel doesn’t even allow himself to think of it happening to you again. “I get it,” he interjects, trying not to sound too curt. “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy, alright?”

Lifting a hand off her belly, she reaches out and takes a hold of his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Promise me something, Joel. Promise me that you’ll look after her,” Maria pleads him, gently. “Please. After everything she’s been through—I need you to promise me that she’s going to be in good hands with you.”

He nods. Without thinking, he places his hand over hers in an unexpected token of affection and reassurance. “You have my word, Maria. I’ll take good care of her.”

She gives his arm a grateful squeeze, then glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We don’t know how much longer Tommy’s going to be with the council. Why don’t we just go ahead and call it a night?” she suggests. “We can all get together first thing in the morning at your place to talk about it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agrees. “She really needs to rest.”

Maria gives his arm another squeeze.

“Go on then, Joel. Take your girls home.”

“Finally!” Ellie exclaims with a dramatic flail of her arms as she shoves through the front door.

“Alright, kiddo. Get your behind upstairs and into the shower,” Joel instructs her, flipping on the lights in the foyer. “Y’smell like fuckin’ horse shit.”

She lifts the collar of her shirt to her nose, takes a whiff, and makes a face. “Yeah, I won’t argue with you there,” she mutters. She toes off her dirty sneakers and leaves them beside the door before dashing up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

He shouts after her, “And don’t use up all the hot—”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know the rules, dude!”

Moments later, you both hear the shower going.

“Little shit,” he grumbles.

You exhale an amused huff through your nose.

Joel withdraws his arm from around your shoulders and reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, darlin’.” He guides you up the stairs and down the hallway into his bedroom where he switches on the light before proceeding to lead you over to his dresser. “I’ve got a bunch of shirts in this top drawer here,” he says. Dropping your hand, he pulls it open for you and gestures to it with a jut of his chin as he takes a step backwards, moving out of the way. “Go ahead and pick one to sleep in tonight. Want you to be comfortable, so help yourself to whichever one you want, sweet girl.”

Nodding, you begin to rummage through the drawer, unaware of the moment he slips away. You reach for a t-shirt, but then a plaid green flannel catches your eye. You pluck it from the drawer, running your fingers over the soft, warm fabric. “Is it alright if I wear—?” You turn around, stopping mid sentence when you realize he’s no longer standing behind you. Puzzled, you follow the sound of running water into the bathroom where you find him kneeling beside the tub. “Joel? What are you doing?”

“Runnin’ you a bath.”

You notice the bloodied bandage beside him on the tile floor. “Joel, are you serious?” you scold him. “Maria just patched your hand up for you.”

“S’okay, peach. I can rewrap it when we’re done.” Joel sticks his injured hand under the faucet to check the temperature, the cold water soothing his cuts. Once it turns warm, then hot, he pulls out his hand, waiting for the tub to fill halfway before shutting the faucet off and rising to his feet. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, then beckons for you with both of his hands. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You remain standing by the door. “Joel, you don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know.”

“I’m capable of washing myself—”

“Yeah, I know that too,” he says, chuckling. “S’only fair, darlin’. Don’t you think?”

That’s when it hits you—how this moment is mirroring that night you had cleaned Joel up after you and Ellie had brought him home from the clinic with an injured shoulder. He allowed you to take care of him, and now, he was looking to do the same for you. And all you had to do was let him.

“But your hand—”

“Will be just fine,” Joel persists, stubbornly. “It’s nothin’ but a few cuts and scrapes. C’mon—or else I’m gonna march right over there and get you myself, peach.”

Knowing Joel, you certainly wouldn’t put it past him to throw you over his should and carry you to the bathtub.

“Fine,” you relent with a small sigh of defeat.

Setting his shirt down on the sink, you slowly walk over towards him and whirl around, letting him help you out of your knitted cardigan. You finish undressing yourself, inhaling a deep breath as you muster up the courage to turn back around and face him—when you finally do, it feels like a punch to the gut to see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes, the subtle tremble of his bottom lip. You don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror to know it looks about a hundred times worse when you’re not wearing clothes.

Keeping your arms down at your sides, you fight every urge to cover yourself up. You’ve never felt so fucking vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, Joel holds out his hand. “C’mere.”

You accept it, and he helps you into the tub.

“How’s the water? S’not too hot, is it?”

You shake your head and he leans forward, kissing your temple so sweetly, your eyes flutter closed.

He washes your hair first, then takes a clean washcloth, lathering it up with a bar of milk and honey soap—the same soap he would smell on your skin all those nights. Admittedly, Joel preferred castile soap, but switched it when he found himself missing you during those weeks you were apart from him, when he needed the comfort of your scent. He is gentle with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands.

As he lightly drags the washcloth up your back and around your neck, you stiffen, prompting him to freeze too. “Fuck. Baby, did I hurt you?” he asks, and you hear the slight panic in his tone.

“No,” you say quickly, desperately trying to swallow the lump rising in your throat. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just—” Every overwhelming emotion slams into you all at once, and you can’t seem to figure out which one to feel first. Humiliation? Fear? Relief?

The water sloshes around you as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around your knees, giving yourself permission to feel them all. Bowing your head, you begin to sob quietly, hoping that Ellie, who is just down the hallway, won’t hear you crying again.

Joel says nothing. Washcloth still clutched in his hand, he leans forward over the edge of the tub and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, or at least, as close as the barrier between the two of you will allow him.

“Joel,” you choke, trying to push him off. “Stop it. Your clothes, they’re getting all wet.”

“Hush. Don’t fuckin’ care ‘bout my clothes,” he croaks, and for a second, you swear he’s about to cry too. But he doesn’t. He holds himself strong. Tugging you closer against his chest, he buries his nose into your soaking wet hair, whispering his reassurance. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe, my sweet girl. I’ve got you, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, dipping his hand into the water, placing it on your lower belly.

You look down, your eyes glazing over his bruised and battered knuckles. Proof that Joel Miller really would do anything for you.

“I know you do,” you say, softly. “I know you’ve got me, Joel.”

A while later, you’re dried, dressed, and composed. You follow Joel out of the bathroom and back into his room, where he has you take a seat on the bed. Noticing you had missed a button on his flannel shirt, he does it for you. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Give me a minute while I change.”

He peels off his wet clothes, being careful so as not to further agitate his sore, injured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you’re sitting in bed underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy—and it smells like you. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home. Alright?”

Home.

You’re home.

He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and then draws himself back up to full height. “There’s somethin’ that I’ve gotta take care of downstairs, peach. I won’t be too long,” he promises.

It’s almost midnight. Joel goes about the kitchen and he prepares you the quickest meal that he can think of. He plates the sandwich he’d thrown together and pours a glass of cow’s milk—he’s always sure to keep a pint of it in the refrigerator to make the kid her oatmeal in the mornings.

He heads back upstairs, only to find that while he had been gone, Ellie had joined you, making herself a little too comfortable on his side of the bed. He stands there at the door, watching the two of you.

“Hey, so is it true babies can hear stuff while they’re in there?” Ellie questions you, curiously.

“Mhm,” you reply with a nod. “They can hear music, for example. Voices—”

“Voices?” She smushes her face into your stomach and he hears a muffled, “Hey, dude!”

You giggle. “Ellie, I think it’s still a little too early.”

“When do you think it’ll be able to hear me?”

“I’m not too sure. In a few months, maybe?”

Ellie lifts her head, humming. “You know, I bet there’s baby books in the library,” she tells you as she sits up. “I’ll have Dina help me look for one tommor—oh shit.” She stares at you with wide eyes. “Dina! How are you going to tell her and Talia about Luke?”

Joel grimaces. He hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I—I’m not too sure.”

“You have to fucking tell them. Dina has to know about him. She has to know what a piece of shit he is, and so does Talia.”

Sensing your discomfort, Joel steps into the bedroom and intervenes before she can say another word. “Ellie, get to bed. S’late.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns her, sternly.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” She climbs off the bed and on her way out, she eyes the plate in his hand. “That chicken?”

“Turkey. And it ain’t for you, it’s for her. So scram, kid.”

“Couldn’t have made me one while you were at it, old man?”

“Ellie, if you don’t get outta here right now—”

“Alright!” Ellie holds her hands up. “I’m leaving. Jesus.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over and carefully perches himself beside you. He hands you the plate. “Here, darlin’.”

“Joel, I appreciate this, but I’m really not very hungry.”

“Maybe not, but y’gotta eat,” he insists. “Baby needs it.”

Thankfully, you accept it without further protest.

“I’ll have Ellie get your things tomorrow,” Joel states as you’re eating. “Maria can go along with her since she knows the house. They’ll get your clothes and whatever else you might need outta there.”

“My father’s belongings.” You accidentally talk through a mouthful of turkey and bread. Swallowing, you tell him, “I have some boxes of his stuff in the basement. But they’re way too heavy for either of them to carry.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.” He reaches up, wiping a breadcrumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “I can ask Tommy to give me a hand. Don’t you worry, peach. We won’t leave your dad’s things behind, I swear it.”

Relieved, you shoot him a grateful look, then polish off the last few bites of your sandwich.

“Here,” he says, offering you the glass of milk. “Figured it’s good for you, and good for the baby. Y’know, since it’s got calcium and…stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly, no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Vitamins, right?”

Nodding, you grab the glass and take a reluctant sip.

“You hate milk,” Joel realizes, raising an eyebrow.

“I do,” you admit with a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s good for both me and the baby, so cheers.” And with that, you somehow force the entire glass down.

He sets the dishes aside on the nightstand, figuring he can take them downstairs first thing in the morning.

Without bothering to rebandage his hand like he’d told you he would, Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you. “All those nights wishin’ I could bring you home,” he muses as you curl into his side. “Wantin’ nothin’ more than to hold you in my arms in this bed. In our bed.” His arm slips around your shoulders, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “Almost doesn’t feel real, darlin’.”

Tilting your head, you nuzzle your nose into the scruff of his beard, prompting him to laugh again. Then, he remembers his conversation with Maria, and his smile fades from his face, his lips pursing together.

You catch the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Joel? What’s the matter?”

“M’fine, baby. It’s just—” He hesitates. “From this point forward, I need you to let me handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you gettin’ all stressed out, alright? I don’t want to run the risk of you—” He’s unsure of how to say it.

“Of me losing the baby,” you finish for him, quietly.

Joel winces, knowing he was wandering into sensitive territory. “Yeah. I—I really don’t want that to happen.” He pauses. “Maria mentioned to me you’re in a delicate stage. When do you reckon you’ll stop—how long until you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it?”

“After twelve weeks, my risk isn’t as high. If I make it to the second trimester in six weeks, then my chances of having another miscarriage are lower.”

Though you speak calmly, he clocks your anxiousness.

You’re worried, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fucking worried out of his mind too.

Being a father at his age wasn’t ideal, but he wanted this child. It was part of him, and more importantly, it was a part of you.

Joel squeezes your shoulders. “I only ask ‘cause I was thinkin’ that, y’know, once we get to that point, maybe I can go ahead and start buildin’ the baby’s crib.”

“You’re going to build the crib?”

He nods. “And the highchair too. I can even make you a diaper changin’ table if y’want one.”

“Joel.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Our worlds were just turned completely upside down. You just found out that I’m pregnant, and you’re already thinking about building furniture? Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Hey, those things take a whole ‘lotta time,” he says in defense of himself. “Besides, winter’s right around the corner and I don’t wanna be out in the garage freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off. If I can get a head start now, I can have them all done in the spring by the time the baby comes.”

You fall silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m really scared of losing it,” you confess. “When I first took that pregnancy test, I wanted nothing more for it to be negative. Now, I’m terrified I won’t make it past my first trimester again. I really don’t want to lose it. I want this baby, Joel.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes in the silver light shining through the lace curtains over his window. “S’why you’ve gotta let me handle things, darlin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, my sweet girl.” Joel presses his lips to yours, murmuring against them, “I love you.”

His declaration comes with natural ease.

And so does yours.

“I love you too, Joel.”

#fic: a safe haven #fic: ash #tw dv #tw domestic violence #tw pregnancy #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller series #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction

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chelseeebe · 2 months

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cold as ice

sooo it’s been a long time coming.. steve’s grand return to my blog!! now i’m not really one for hockey romance or wtv but i saw this one picture on pinterest and it just spurred me on to write this.. whatever this is

18+ mdni! smut. violent themes. eddie is r’s brother though descriptors are not used so take that relationship as you want! steve harrington x female reader. hockey au.

the rink is cool, the clattering sounds of skates and sticks hitting the ice fill the arena.

it’s too early for steve to really give a shit about practice, waiting for the moment he’s allowed to crawl back into bed again.

the arena’s usually empty at this time of the day, not many people were keen to watch them scream at each other over failed passes.

but today, you sit in one of the seats, quietly watching as they warm up.

steve’s still fairly new to the team, only recently drafted, though things were looking a whole lot better if he knew you’d be showing up to practice regularly.

“who’s that?” he nods, sliding up to the small group congregated at edge. he’d just assumed you were somebody’s girlfriend dragged to practice.

“munson’s sister,” jason smiles, thumping him on the back, “don’t even think about it man.. not gonna happen.”

steve’s features crumple, confusion echoing his face, “well why not?”

they laugh, sharing a knowing look between them, a joke he wasn’t in on. tommy steps forward, clapping his hand on his shoulder, pitying almost, “you think we haven’t tried? eddie doesn’t play about her.. i wouldn’t even bother.”

his eyes travel back to your solemn spot in the bleachers, cocking his grin to the side.

he wasn’t one to ignore a challenge, and he certainly wouldn’t be now.

lucky for steve, the only reason you’d tagged along to practice was to use the rink after the guys had left. making use of the quiet hour between them practicing and the public flooding in.

he was smart, waiting for eddie to leave before sliding his skates back on, venturing out onto the ice to interrupt your peaceful routine.

“hey,” he calls from across the ice, slowly making his way over without startling you. “what’re you doing?” moving alongside you slowly.

“practicing,” you reply rather bluntly, ignoring him to spin around the cool rink, speeding off into the distance.

steve grits his teeth, just about skating fast enough to catch up, wrapping his arm around your waist and knocking you back into the plexiglass, all in one fell swoop.

“oops,” he smirks, mere inches from your face, “i tripped.”

you smile, a contained, coy grin that you’d hoped wouldn’t boost his ego too much, turning your face away from his.

“i don’t think we’ve met,” laying on the charm thick and heavy, just as he meant to go on, “i’m steve, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“i know who you are,” narrowing your cold eyes, “eddie told me you’re bad news.”

steve’s not shocked, not one bit. eddie hasn’t been particularly welcoming since his arrival, though he’d put it down to new team rituals or whatever.

his throat vibrates, humming his response, “i’m sure he did.”

how rude of eddie not to return the favour and introduce you to him too.

“i’m gonna ask you out,” poking his tongue into his cheek, “and we can either do it the easy way or we can do it the hard way, it’s your choice,” quirking his head to the side.

“steve,” you warn, dropping your gaze.

“so you choose the hard way, that’s fine,” keeping his hand firmly on the plastic, pinning you in place, “what’re you scared of? eddie?” blowing the air out of his mouth, “he’s not gonna know.. don’t worry.”

you hum, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, “he’ll kill you,” jutting your chin out, “i don’t think you want that.”

the words melt off of his tongue, resembling butter and all things sweet, “for you, i’d risk it,” a true smooth talker, knowing exactly what you wanted to hear.

your eyes roll back, dipping your chin, presumably to hide the flush he’d bought to your cheeks. worked every time.

“we can have dinner,” finding enough pride to meet his gaze again, forcing faux reluctance into your tone. he’s aware that it’s all a game, he’s rolled this dice a thousand times and knows exactly how it’ll land.

“tonight,” ordering, not asking, “i’ll pick you up, yeah?”

your lips purse, “fine,” the bright lights shine from your eyes, highlighting the flustered glow of your cheeks, “eight o’clock,” a feeble attempt to gain some control over the moment.

steve gleefully releases you from the makeshift cell he’d held you in, slowly moving backward along the ice, “wear something pretty for me,” flashing his teeth in a over bearing grin, darting off of the rink before anyone had the chance to spot you together.

he’s there at eight on the dot, nonchalantly eyeing the door, playing off the excitable beating in his chest.

you don’t emerge until the time on his dash reads 8:09. perhaps another attempt at flipping the ball into your court or maybe you were just late.

steve didn’t mind either way.

he leaps from the chair, making his way around the car before you even got to the road, opening the door with a grin.

“you look great,” he purrs, hanging onto the door as you step inside, lingering inches from his face, cocking your head to the side to thank him before sliding in.

he’s almost vibrating on the drive over, fingers nervously tapping the soft leather wheel, no doubt making himself look insane.

the drive seemed too long now, having chosen a restaurant out of town in fear of prying eyes that would guarantee he would never see you again.

you’re unconcerned with the food, hanging onto his every word, lapping up the barrage of compliments just dripping off his tongue.

“eddie can’t be that bad, can he?” steve asks, completely naive to the lengths your brother would go to keep him away.

you laugh into your glass mid-sip, flashing him a look that can only be taken as a warning. “you don’t get it,” mocking in the way you shake your head, “he’d eat you alive,” a scathing review of what he was getting himself into.

“i think you’d be worth it darlin’,” flashing his teeth in that trademarked steve harrington grin.

but it works, ducking your head behind your glass though it fails to conceal the crinkle by your eyes. a dead giveaway that his syrupy words were working.

“y’think?” emerging from behind the transparent glass.

“i do.”

steve had an abundance of confidence, maybe too much depending on who you asked. but it didn’t half work in his favour.

you were putty in his hands and he hadn’t even finished his spiel yet.

“you talk a lotta shit, steve harrington,” biting the inside of your cheek.

“but you like it, don’t you?”

your mouth twitches, biting at your bottom lip, reluctant to nod but you do anyway. relinquishing any and all last embers of self-respect you were desperately clinging onto.

he’s already eager to get you out of the restaurant and back into the passenger seat of his car.

there had been no doubt in his mind that he would win you over. what was a disgruntled older brother to him anyway?

nothing more than a tiny blip that steve could rather easily ignore. especially when you were the reward.

there’s inconsequential chatter on the journey back, words full of nothingness while all his mind can fathom is the feel of your lips against his.

he pulls into the tiny lot in front of your building, though you don’t get out, stewing in the passenger seat, waiting for him to make a move.

so he does.

steve leans over the console, his forefinger and thumb encasing your chin, tilting your face toward his. you take your lip between your teeth, stopping him before he can smash his lips to yours.

“you have to promise me..” you murmur, gazing into his eyes though they remain on your lips, “eddie can’t ever know.”

he hums in anticipation, almost drooling with excitement, “yeah.. i promise,” before moving in to finally touch you.

your finger jabs into his chest, mere millimetres away from sealing his fate, “i mean it, steve.. never ever.”

“never ever,” he echoes, still waiting for your permission to close the gap.

your head nods slightly, “oka-,” interrupted by his lips mashing with yours, taking your bottom lip between his teeth, adamant to not waste any more precious time.

your hand rests against his heaving chest, barely curling around the fabric, just enough to keep him close.

steve breaks away first, just to look at you with lovesick eyes. he knows that this will inevitably only end one way, but that’s okay. if being with you in the meantime is the prize, then the eventual fallout is negligible.

“shit,” he breathes, keeping the distance small and easily shortened, “you’re so beautiful,” fully meaning it but really only saying it to watch you squirm again.

“stop it,” abashedly hurrying to connect your lips again, noses knocking against one another with your careless action.

you taste like sweet wine and spearmint, delicate with the way your tongue swipes over his bottom lip, a soft murmur escaping your throat when his hand finds your thigh.

a welcoming new addiction, one steve wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to escape. ever.

being secretive meant a lot of days holed up in your apartment. unless of course both of you were needed at the ice. that’s when shit got really fun.

every single person on that rink truly believed your eyes were on them but only steve knew who you were actually looking at.

eddie was completely non-the-wiser, ignorant to the fact you and steve arrived just minutes apart, blissfully unaware of the violet markings trailing down your neck.

the thrill of having something to hold over him. no matter how loud he’d scream at steve or how hard he’d knock him down, steve knew that at the end of it all, he was going home with you.

personally, steve thought the tension was

palpable. that every single person in this building could tell that he couldn’t wait to get home to touch you again.

one particular eve, sprawled out next to you in bed, as you had been for days at this point, steve jumps up, grabs the clunky polaroid camera and starts coaxing you out of bed.

“come on,” he orders, wrapping his fingers around yours, “i got an idea.”

tossing his jersey in your direction, just barely catching it before it fallls to the ground again. “take this off,” running his fingers around the hem of your shirt, “and put this on,” he barks, already helping you lift the fabric over your head.

you grab onto his hand, furrowed brows, “what’re you doing?”

“i wanna take a picture,” having already noted the polaroid camera that sat on your shelf. he’d been thinking about it for weeks, only just comfortable enough to ask.

you hesitate but do as he says says anyway, letting the jersey fall around your body while steve watches with his jaw detached.

he nods towards the bed, in quiet amazement as the jersey falls around your bare thighs, riding higher when you move.

you lay back, steve crawling onto the mattress behind you, knees pressed together as he looms above. so perfect, sprawled out on the bed with his jersey on.

he gives no warning before snapping the picture, grinning to himself behind the plastic camera.

“i wasn’t looking,” you frown, grabbing ahold of his wrist before he can take another.

“that was just a practice one,” he coos, looking at you rather than through the viewfinder.

what he truly wanted was a picture that only the two of you would ever see.

“can i?” asking cautiously as his large hand lays on your knee, waiting for that small nod before spreading them apart, closing the space between you.

his hand skirts upward, brushing your thigh until it meets your core, keeping his eyes trained on yours for approval.

“yeah?” steve repeats, the camera still poised in his other hand.

you nod again, chest heaving as you allow him to manoeuvre your body, relinquishing full control over to him.

steve’s thumb traces the lace fabric, grazing your clit and down to your quivering hole. shuddering breath fills the room but you don’t contest it, relaxing into the mattress instead.

his finger hooks around the fabric, yanking it to the side, your soaked cunt waiting below.

“okay?” he reiterates further, dropping the camera onto the bed to pull his boxers, cock aching and starved, leaking with anticipation.

“please,” finally using your voice, a desperate, strangled cry that makes his cock twitch.

steve’s vision is clear, he knows what he wants from this. something that only the two of you will know had happened.

guiding his tip to your eager entrance, gently nudging inside as you wail softly, fingers grabbing at the disheveled blanket underneath.

he scrambles for the discarded camera, wanting to take the picture before completely losing it. the tension is palpable, longing for him to move while he’s adamant on getting the perfect shot.

“a-alright honey,” steve stammers, tugging at the hem of the jersey to cover where your two bodies meet.

the shutter clicks, your two bodies intertwined perfectly and yet completely unknown to anyone that may ever see that picture.

it takes everything in him not to scrap everything and just fuck you into the mattress. a couple more photos and he’d be satisfied.

something about this entire situation was getting him off anyway, your warmth enveloping him, squeezing and trembling as you wait patiently.

“please move,” you beg, a divine temptress with your hooded eyes and wetted lips.

he does so, agonisingly slow, causing your jaw to go slack, pinging perverted thoughts to his fuzzy brain.

his thumb finds your bottom lip, resting on the skin before you get the hint to wrap your lips around it. it’s taking everything for him to not cum right now, his fingers shaking on top of the button, pointed perfectly to capture his thumb between your lips, fingers caressing your warm cheek. cutting off just before the camera meets your eyes, no identifiable features, just in case.

the camera lowers as his hips still roll slowly, your composure slipping away with each gentle thrust. steve thinks that he could’ve asked for anything at this point and you would’ve let him. too drunk, too in-love to really think about it.

but he doesn’t push it, one more picture, just for him.

your cunt, keeping him inside, a picture to be hidden and cherished.

using his fingers to bunch up the soft cotton of his jersey, perfectly framing the meeting point of your two bodies. he fills you to the hilt, drawing a sweet whine from your plump lips.

barely stable enough to snap the picture, hands trembling the entire time before tossing the camera to the side, a flurry of polaroids lay framing your body. to be ignored until after he had made you cum a couple times.

steve thrums his full attention to you, your body even. his fingers still gripping his borrowed jersey, using the fabric for leverage as he thrusts faster, choking on his moans, overcome with the intensity of your cunt squeezing around him.

“so good,” he stresses, further spreading your legs to move closer, staying stood on his knees to watch your expression contort and change with every slam of his hips.

his hand leaves the jersey, disappearing between your soft thighs to find your neglected clit, drawling the sweetest mewl from your lips, eyes squeezing shut with the new found pleasure.

“oh my god steve,” moving your hips against his in slow rhythm.

you’d done something for him and now he was due to repay you fully, thumb circling gently around your sensitive clit, neglecting his own climax to ensure you got there first.

steve thighs burn, the feel of your heels digging into the dimples on his lower back were the only thing keeping him upright.

“c’mon honey,” he coos, ducking his head to watch you wriggle, thighs squeezing together as the sweat begins to pool on your temple.

falling apart at the seams with every nudge of his cock against your sensitive spot, trembling as the waves of your orgasm threaten to spill over.

steve can tell, can feel you tighten around him, desperately clawing the soft blanket beneath.

“that’s it baby,” in a gruff low growl, still teasing your poor clit, “you sound so pretty,” drinking in every delicate whine that left your soft lips.

“shit,” you cry, moving your hips against his in perfect rhythm, your eyes stuck shut as he smirks to himself.

steve’s pace stutters, a mixture of expletives and throaty groans fill the room, moving to clasp onto your hip instead. a mixture of ecstasy and desperation overcome his bones, helplessly rutting into you as you tremble.

“oh.. uhh,” he groans, fingernails leaving tiny crescent moons in the plush skin of your hip, “f-fuck baby, i’m gonna cum,” desperate to unload while you writhe beneath, overstimulated after your own orgasm.

his fist wraps around the base of his cock, leaving your warmth just before he cums, thick ropes of his release paint your stomach, no doubt his jersey too.

it could be cleaned, but seeing you come completely undone in the bright blue shirt again wasn’t guaranteed.

the room is stifling, clammy skin no longer sexy but irritating as he gathers the forgotten polaroids, collapsing breathlessly next to you, sharing one pillow as your sticky bodies mesh.

“oh god,” choking on your words, harshly thrown back into reality, “i don’t think i wanna see those.”

steve tuts, holding the small pile above your faces, “you’re amazing.. i like that one,” flashing the image of your lips wrapped snug around his thumb.

“euurgh,” you complain, “you can keep that one.”

his eyes roll back as he flicks through, tracing the outline of where your two bodies meet, “that one’s my favourite,” turning his head to watch your grimacing face.

your fatal flaw was your humility, not wanting to own how earth-shatteringly beautiful you were was really his only issue.

“you can keep that one,” you murmur, coming to face him, “actually, you can keep them all.”

steve ponders for a moment, taking in the soft curve of your lips, the way your eyes seemed to fill with stars when you looked at him.

“thank you for doing that,” completely sincerely, “i’m gonna keep that one in my wallet,” showcasing the one where your two bodies met, entirely undetectable to any poor soul that may open his wallet.

“you’re so gross,” shoving the stack of pictures out of your site, rolling out of the bed as you go, “i’m gonna shower.. you coming or are you just gonna perv at all your weird photos?”

“say less,” steve beams, leaping up, dragging you along towards the bathroom with a chorus of shrieks and giggles.

steve shuffles in the soft dawn light, reluctant to leave the warm cocoon of your bed for the icy rink and brutish behaviour of his teammates.

he groans while getting ready, it never getting any easier to leave you comfortable in bed.

the doorbell shrieks from the hall, your eyes meeting in a panic.

fucking eddie.

“eddie,” you frown, leaping out of bed, “he’s early,” scowling at the clock, “he wasn’t supposed to be here until seven,” gritting your teeth as you pull discarded clothes back onto your body.

steve looks at the window, a little far down to throw himself out of it before his eyes dart back to the bed, wondering if he could shove himself underneath.

you spin as the door pings again, shoving steve to the other side of your room, “just stay in here and don’t say anything, okay?” rushing out as your bedroom door slams shut.

the door opens and eddie waltz in, shoving the last of his bagel into his mouth as he makes his way into your apartment.

“you’re early,” you scold, worriedly looking around the messy room, praying your brother wouldn’t notice.

“was getting breakfast.. thought you’d be ready,” he mumbles through chews, eyes leaving yours to also glide around the room, at the clues of there being another person in this apartment. “is someone else here?” eddie asks, finding steve’s sneakers left neatly by the door.

“no,” you rush, furrowing your brow, “i’m the only one that lives here eddie,” only half-a-lie. steve hadn’t moved in officially, but it was pretty damn close.

eddie smirks, noting the two mugs sat in the sink waiting to be washed, “no? are you sure about that?”

“what’re you even talking about? i’m not in the mood for this,” sighing heavily.

“i don’t care if you’re dating someone,” he laughs, “you can tell me, you know?”

“i’m not.. you’re just, you’re being stupid,” standing with your arms across your chest, disapproving of his early morning nonsense.

“alright.. alright,” shaking his head, “whatever. if you don’t wanna tell me, that’s fine.”

you think fast, tempted to pull the fire alarm just he’d have to get the fuck out.

“i’m not coming today, i don’t feel great so.. you should go,” eager to usher him out of the door and far, far away from all of the shit you’d mistakenly left out.

he does as you ask, walking towards the door but not before stopping right before steve’s shoes, “nice shoes,” unable to keep his snarky remark to himself of course.

your eyes fall down to the large pair of sneakers sat by the door, obvious that they weren’t ever meant for you, “they’re.. they’re.. can you just leave please?” pushing him through the door, dismayed by his lack of care for your embarrassing time.

“see ya tomorrow?”

“yeah yeah tomorrow.. bye,” abruptly closing the door in his smug face, relieved to not have witnessed your brother beat your boyfriend to death just yet.

steve breathes a silent sigh of relief at the door clicking shut, unsticking himself from the wall to make his way to your bedroom door, only waiting for your signal to come out.

“oh my god, oh my god,” you exclaim, barrelling into the room, “too close,” steve’s hands catch your frantic shoulders, slowing down the panic in your eye.

“i know..” he affirms, keeping you steady, “but he’s gone, okay? it’s fine.. he doesn’t know and now next time we’ll just.. we’ll be more careful, yeah?”

your breathing slows, nodding along with his calming words, “okay.. okay,” leaning into his palm as his hand caresses your cheek, “you should go, i don’t want you to be late.”

what did that matter if you weren’t okay? hockey would come and go but he was intending to keep you forever.

“you gonna be okay? i’ll be back as soon as we’re done,” thumb tracing the indents by your mouth, wishing he could just bundle you along with him.

“yeah.. i’m okay, go,” breaking free of his clasp though your palm stays atop of his hand, nodding encouragingly.

so reluctantly he does, leaving you for a frosty morning on the ice. a couple of hours of really testing his ability not to pummel your brother into the ground.

“why’re you late?” eddie spits, damn near slobbers, standing from the bench to approach steve, without an ounce of intimidation in his body.

steve just scoffs, “two minutes.. you’ll survive,” ignoring the stiff man to shove his bag into his locker, slamming the door shut to find eddie’s stoic face just inches from his.

“you’re always fuckin’ late,” his eyes falling slowly to the floor, a disconcerting expression overcomes his features.

through gritted teeth eddie bites, “fucking asshole,” grabbing steve by the scruff of the neck and subsequently throwing him violently back into the lockers. his spine and head, colliding loudly with the metal, a groan escaping his lips at the sudden searing ache.

“what the fuck?”

“stay the fuck away from her!” bellowing into steve’s face, completely unnecessary for the distance between them.

the bridges connect in his head, albeit slowly. realising that ‘her’ was in fact you.

his shoes.

he’d kicked them off by the door last night like he always did, without much thought about the consequence of your brother spotting them.

steve shoves him backwards, unpinning himself from the lockers, letting his anger take over.

“so fucking what?” pushing him further back, “you gonna punch me because i’m dating your sister?” using the opportunity to gain an advantage over eddie, towering above with his brows furrowed.

“no,” eddie growls, “i’ll fucking kill you for dating my sister,” already lunging towards steve, fingertips scraping his shirt as he’s tugged backwards by a both very impressed and yet very frightful jason.

“calm the fuck down!” jason hollers, though his pleas fall on deaf ears as eddie scrambles through his hold, reaching out for steve’s static body.

holy fuck.

you’d told him it’d be bad, and yeah, maybe he had expected a black eye or a bloodied lip but he hadn’t prepared himself for this.

a rage so deep, so visceral that even tommy was ushering steve out of the locker room, a fearful glint to his eye that steve had never seen.

“fuck man,” tommy exasperates, holding his jacket between his fingers, “didn’t think you had it in ya..” amazement rippling through his voice, “you should definitely go though.. give it a couple days and.. he’ll be alright.”

steve wasn’t sure that was true.

a couple of days surely wasn’t enough for that anger to subside. he wouldn’t put it past eddie to creep through the window and strangle him in his sleep.

but he goes nonetheless, a slow, contemplative drive back to your apartment. wondering if this was even the best place to go. you’d be wondering, confused why he didn’t come back. you at least deserved to know.

the door cracks open almost instantaneously, revealing your tear stained face accompanied by your wobbling lip, appalled at the sheer sight of him, “what did you do? steve? what the fuck did you do?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington au #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

Text

End Game 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: we're here to boo Andrew.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“So, you’re coming?” Jacob’s voice quavers with excitement. You can’t imagine how he’d sound if you said no. You hate letting people down, it seems to be all you've ever done.

“Uh, yeah,” you say as you steer around the track; opting for some MarioKart over Minecraft that night, “boss says it’s no problem to get the days off. Just have to make it up after. Is... Is everything still good on your end?”

“Oh yeah, sure thing,” he assures buoyantly, “I can’t wait. Did you still wanna split the airBnB?”

“Actually, I got a place to stay for the night then I’ll take the early bus back,” you explain as Princess Peach knocks you off the track, “argh!”

“Right, that’s good,” he says, “good to know you won’t be stranded out there.”

“Mhm,” you use your boost to catch up to Peach and get your revenge. You don’t mention that Kara will be with you at the con. You just want to be sure this isn’t something wonky. “It’ll be nice to get out of town. My grandma will probably be happy to have the place to herself.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “what’s her problem anyway?”

“Just the way she is. She likes her space,” you shrug, “I don’t know, I don’t think she expected to be raising her granddaughter...”

“Ah, yeah, I guess that would be stressful,” he says, “still, seems like you’re not too bad to be around. Got a job, go to school, all that. Think my dad would love it if I put in half as much effort.”

“Yeah? You make him sound like a hard ass.”

“Can be. Lawyer, so kinda his schtick,” he chuckles.

“Oo, fancy,” you snort. Maybe if either of your parents had been lawyers, you wouldn’t be living off your grandma’s resent.

“I guess. Never really see him that much...” he grumbles.

“Hm, well, no winning, is there?” You mutter.

“Not really,” he sighs and hisses, “ugh, Toad!”

You chuckle and cross the finish line. A respectable second. You wait for him to finish and stifle a yawn.

“Tired?” He asks.

“Little.”

“Me too, long day,” he groans, “neck’s killing me.”

“Oh, what’d you do--”

“You know, I’m-- an idiot. Was messing around on my bike.”

“Of course,” you snicker, “well, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna sign off. I don’t wanna keep my grandma up and my head’s starting to go.”

“Sure, I gotta get up early anyway,” he sounds less than enthused. “Good night.”

“You too.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Can’t, work. Day after?”

“Okay, I’ll make it work,” he confirms, “I’m excited about meeting up. Aren’t you?”

“Yep,” you try not to show your doubt. You’re still not really sure about everything.

“Can’t wait,” he rasps and the silt in his tone makes you shiver.

“Yeah, er, bye then,” you hit end session and take off your headset, your ears tender and a bit sweaty. Even if it is awkward, at least you’ll get to hang with Kara for a bit. You haven’t seen her since grad.

🎮

You’re already exhausted and you’re not even inside yet. The line for the convention is bustling and your excitement keeps you going as you and Kara gab away and move with the slow crawl. The sun beams down and has you sweating, though you could easily blame that on your nerves too.

“So, this Jacob... is he cute?” She winks.

“Kara,” you roll your eyes, “it’s not like that. Really. We just game.”

“Oh yeah. But do you want it to be more?” She teases.

“You know I’m not really into all that. I don’t have room for a boyfriend in my life.”

“So boring. Never change, girlie,” she nudges you playfully. “But really, that’s smart. Calvin is too much. I’m thinking of cutting him loose.”

“Again?” You squint.

“Not my fault he keeps coming back,” she giggles.

You peer around, searching out a familiar face amid the ocean of strangers. You haven’t seen Jacob yet. You’re almost hoping he doesn’t show up. Then again, why wouldn’t he? He paid for you to be here. The reminder of the fact strikes guilt in your chest.

You pause as your eyes catch another pair, further back in the queue. An older man with a beard. He stands out among the crowd. He wears a tidy button-up where most wear graphic tees or cosplay attire. He stares for a moment before he turns away and looks down, probably at whatever kid dragged him there.

“Well, what are you going to do if he sees you and falls in love?” Kara asks.

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes.

“If he’s a nerd like you, how could he not?”

“Hey,” you frown.

“What? You’re like the sexy gamer girl type. Isn’t that what dudes want?” She shrugs. “Let me see his pic again. He’s a skinny little thing. He’d definitely be into you.”

“Urgh, stop,” you cross your arms.

“Sorry, I’m only playing. You just seem so nervous, I’m trying to loosen you up.”

“I know,” you puff, “it’s just... I should’ve just said no. This is stupid. I don’t know why I even agreed.”

“To get out of that shithole,” she snips. “Why do you think I hauled ass the minute I popped by grad cap on?”

“Mm, yeah, I just hope... do you think he really wants that? Maybe I gave him the wrong idea. Oh, Kar, I really didn’t mean to lead him on.”

“No, no, I’m sure it’s nothing you did if he does. I mean, he’s probably a virgin so...”

“That’s mean,” you pout.

“What, so are you,” she laughs.

“Exactly,” you shake your head and drop your arms, a buzz jittering your skirt pocket.

You look down at yourself as you slide your phone free. That was probably a bold choice but it’s so damn hot out. Besides, your Pikachu tee is loose enough to counteract the denim sheath. You turn the screen up, shading it with your hand as you read.

‘Sorry, not going to make it. Something came up. 🙁'

You frown and reread the message. Really? You came all the way here, took time off of work, and he’s flaking?

“What’s up?” Kara asks as she clicks her manicured nails impatiently and stands on her toes, trying to see past the bodies ahead.

“He just cancelled,” you mutter and type in your reply.

‘Oh no. Hope it’s nothing bad. Maybe another time.’

You hit send and drop your shoulders. You’re surprised how disappointed you are. More so about the wasted effort than anything. Even if you are a bit relieved, it’s shitty.

“Ah, bullshit!” Kara sneers, “what the hell? What did he say?” She reaches for your phone and you hold it out of her grasp. “That fucker.”

“It’s probably not his fault. Shit happens.”

“Babe, you’re gonna settle for a lot of nonsense if you keep that attitude. I’d be friggin pissed if I was you. He brings you all the way here and now he’s too good for you. I bet he saw some cute girl in line and she smiled at him once so now he’s ditching,” she scowls, “I hate boys.”

“I’m sure... it’s nothing,” you say glumly as your phone vibes again.

‘I’m real sorry. I hope you still have a good time. Take lots of pictures.’

You don’t respond. You lock your phone and put it back in your pocket. It never feels good to be stood up. Even then.

“You know what, screw him,” Kara snarls, “let’s go in there and buy you the cutest plushie you can find. Hell, maybe you can find an even cuter guy.”

“Kar,” you warn her.

“Fine, just the plushie. Maybe two,” she trills, “forget that loser.”

🎮

The chaos of the convention wipes away the dark cloud over you. You’re almost thankful that Jacob gave you the opportunity to catch up with Kara. You didn’t realise how much you missed her. It’s perfect day where you can forget about your grandmother and your lame job and everything else.

You rush around from booth to booth. You look at fanart, handmade figures, and stuffies. You’re mindful of your wallet and how empty it really is. You’ll get one thing and a snack. That’s all you can afford.

As the hours roll by, your early morning bus ride and time spent standing out in the hot sun catch up to you. You feel your muscles starting to ache and your eyelids turning fuzzy. You yawn as you shuffle behind Kara as she waits in line to get a signature from the one D-list celeb she’s heard of. You’d get one too but it’s way too expensive.

“Hey,” you rub your cheek, “mind if I sit and wait? I wanna grab a soft pretzel anyway.”

“Sure,” she agrees easily, “looks like it’s gonna be a while.”

“Want me to bring you a drink or something?” You offer.

“Nah, just text me where you are so I can find you,” she says.

You leave her reluctantly. You’d rather not be wandering alone through the hordes but your feet are killing you and your stomach’s been roaring for the last hour. You stand in line for the pretzel stall and get yours with cinnamon sugar and syrup. Messy but delicious.

You find a table in the corner and settle in. You put your phone beside the napkin and tear apart the doughy goodness. Your phone lights up with a notification from the merge game you like to play and you see several other icons; missed messages.

You focus on your snack, savouring each bite, as your eyes drift around the crowded centre. You can barely see some of the booths as hordes cluster around. Some cosplayers bat at each other with toy swords as children fight over the arcade machines. You’re overwhelmed by the sheer amount of activity all around.

You put your head down trying to block out the lights and noise. You feel yourself getting overstimulated. It’s like when you’re in the lecture hall and suddenly you can hear every sniff, sneeze, and keystroke. You close your eyes as you wipe your fingertips on the edge of the napkin, only half-finished your pretzel.

“Looks good,” a deep voice cuts through the blaring din.

As you recognise the timbre, your heart squeezes and the world pinpoints at the centre of your skull. You open your eyes and slowly raise your head. You blink dumbly at the unfamiliar man stood in front of you. You think you’ve seen him before, or at least he sticks out from the typical convention attendee.

It isn’t that he’s too old, there’s lots of older geeks hanging around but they have neckbeards and greasy combovers. His hair is tidy and his beard trimmed close. His clothing also lacks the typical Dorito dust or anime character. You remember, he was outside in the line.

“Uh, hello?” You utter.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says as he pulls out the chair across from you. He sits as your insides plunge. You know his voice.

“Jacob?” You murmur in shock. How? Why? This isn’t the stringy teenager you met online.

He nods, his jaw tensing, and he crosses an arm over the table, pointing to your half-eaten pretzel, “what’d you get on yours? I can’t decide between sweet or savoury.”

“Who... are you?” You croak, head spinning as your eyes prick. You knew something was weird. You knew you weren’t talking to Jacob or whoever that boy was in the pictures.

He takes a breath and lets it out slowly. As his chest deflates, you do too. He’s older than you, bigger than you, and by the looks of him, a lot better off. Why the hell would he be chatting with you? Why would he lie to you?

“You’re right. I’m not Jacob,” he confesses, the colour draining from his face. He steeples his fingers and considers his next words carefully. You sit back and hug yourself defensively. This is fucked. “My name is Andy, Jacob is my son.”

“Your son?” You eke out, “why-- why would you lie?”

He cringes and takes another breath, ��he was my son,” he corrects himself, “he... passed.”

You feel like you’ve been struck. Your mouth falls open, stunned. Not only did he hide behind his son’s photos, but his dead son’s. Oh, god. You feel sick. No, you feel stupid.

“Look, please, just hear me out. I just—it wasn’t meant to go on this long. When I first lied to you, it was supposed to be that one time. I was... I was lost. I just lost Jacob and I was going through his things. I started playing because I missed him. I wanted to feel like he was still there--”

“No, no, you got on discord and you started talking to me. As him!” Your voice shakes and your eyes tinge. “That’s not just missing him.”

“I know, you’re right. I lied but... I got lonely playing by myself so yes, I went onto that discord. You were nice. You didn’t call me a noob or whatever. And... and after work, looking forward to hearing your voice, it got me through a lot of pain. Being alone in that house after so long, I couldn’t cope--”

“So you lied to me?” You stand and snatch your phone, nauseous to the core, “you manipulated me. How do you know—if you had just been you that I would’ve been any different? If you just wanted to play games, to be friends--”

“I was scared--”

“I don’t care if you were scared,” you hiss as you stomp forward. “You’re an adult.”

He stands and blocks your path. You recoil, put off by his height. He’s a lot bigger on his feet.

“Please, move or... I’ll scream,” you breathe.

“You don’t have to do that. Just hear me out,” he pleads.

“I don’t want to hear anything else from you, Jacob. Or Andy. Or whoever you really are,” you sneer, “move.”

He shudders and hangs his head. He makes himself seem small as his shoulders round and he backs out of your way. You bite down and march past him.

You need to get to a bathroom. Now. You’re going to spew up your guts. More important, you need to get yourself together before you go find Kara. She can’t know this happened. It’s too embarrassing.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #defending jacob #end game

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delicatebarness · 4 months

Text

cry baby | chapter nine

Summary: The makeover.

Warning: ???

Word Count: 939

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A/N: She's a short one but I hope it's okay! Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Each day that followed that evening in the bar, you battled to maintain your composure at work or amongst your friends. Your anxiety was only fueled by the continued whispers of accusations and suspicions. You needed a distraction, something to pull you out of the spiral of worry and guilt. And, you knew the ladies just for the job.

One evening, after a long day, you sent a text to your group chat consisting of only you, Natasha, and Wanda. You missed your girl's nights in with them, the times you shared laughter, stories, and secrets. As you typed out your text, an idea struck you - a makeover. You could use a refresh, something to break free from the cloud that loomed over you.

The next day, you arrived at their apartment with excitement and anticipation. “Ready to become a new you?” As you entered the apartment, Natasha teased as she gestured toward the many outfits and makeup products in the living area.

The apartment was cozy and inviting, the rooms filled with colors and their personal touches.

“Let’s get started!” Wanda exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as she entered from the kitchen, drinks in hand. “First things first, we need to pick out some outfits!”

You spent the next couple of hours trying on clothes, you laughed as your friends debated which of their styles suited you best. After some compromise between them, they settled on one of Wanda’s sleek, red leather jackets paired with Natasha’s dark jeans and a pair of combat boots - a look that you thought screamed confidence and strength.

You sat down as they got to work with your hair and makeup. Nat worked on your hair while Wanda focused on your makeup. “You know,” Natasha began, her voice gentle as she brushed your hair. “This isn’t going to make you any stronger, you’re already the strongest out of us all.”

Wanda nodded in agreement. “You’ve handled everything with grace, this is just for fun, okay?”

As they continued their work, you tried to stop your eyes from welling from their words. You knew this wasn’t about your physical changes, it was about embracing a new mindset, one where you could face the world without crying.

When you were done, you hardly recognized yourself. Your hair was styled with braids and a bandana, and your makeup accentuated your features. It gave you a bold, darker look. You felt like a different person, like someone who wouldn’t have trouble saying no to anyone.

“I don’t even know what to say,” you murmured, turning to face your friends. “Thank you,”

“Don’t thank us yet,” Natasha grinned. “We’ve got one more surprise for you.”

She led you to the front door as Wanda picked up an extra helmet and her keys. “We’re going to the bar,” she said, gesturing you to follow them. “Time to show off your new look.”

A hush fell over the bar as you stepped into the familiar room. An intensity rose as all eyes turned toward you and your friends. They flanked you as you walked toward your usual booth, their presence giving you an extra boost of confidence.

You noticed Steve, Bucky, and Sam were already at your booth. Their eyes widened in surprise as they saw you. The rest of the bar had similar reactions, quiet gasps and murmurs of appreciation filled the air.

“Wow,” Steve said, standing up to hug you. His expression shifted as he noted the lingering stares from the others in the bar. His protective instinct reveals itself. “You look amazing, Sis,”

Sam nodded in agreement, a playful smirk spreading across his face.

You blushed, “Thanks, it’s all thanks to Nat and Wanda.” Giving your friends a small smile, you gestured you were going over to the bar.

As you settled by the bar, Bucky’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the attention you were attracting. A group of men at the bar began whispering, and he noticed their glances toward you. He stood up and walked over to you, his large frame looming over you.

“You okay with all this attention?” he asked, his voice low as he leaned in closer. His gaze flickered back to the men, his jaw tightening.

You nodded, trying to keep your eyes dry.

He sighed staying by you as you ordered drinks for your group. The scanning of the room from Bucky didn’t stop, he sent uneasy glances toward anyone who looked your way.

You tried to explain to him how the makeover had made you feel like a tougher version of yourself, more like Natasha and Wanda. You hoped that maybe not looking like the ‘weak link’ would make you no longer be, just that.

After what felt like a while, he leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper. “So, you’re telling me,” he muttered, his breath warm against your ear, “you’re not going to cry if someone like… Rumlow came in here now and got this close to you?”

His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, and a shiver involuntarily rushed down your spine. “Bucky, I…”

He didn’t let you finish, your gaze locked with his as his face was mere inches from yours. Your heart raced at the intensity between the two of you. “What about this close?” he asked as he moved his hand lower, grazing his fingers lightly over the exposed skin on your neck.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your emotions. “No… I know you’d never let him this near.”

A smile spread across his face, his expression softening. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, “That's my girl.”

---

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#cry baby series #cry baby #bucky barnes x cry baby #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #biker!bucky #biker au #steve rogers x sister!reader

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essentiallyleaf · 11 months

Text

day 20. cockwarming. with. jisoo.

1105 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, cockwarming, angst, i don’t even know anymore, possibly the coldest cockwarming fic to ever exist, so much angst and for what.

notes.

short and a little rushed. sounds just like every day of my life. exhaustedly, leaf.

You plop down on the bed, barely able to take your black dress pants off before the dizziness gets the best of you. Jisoo is there, laying still, facing away from you and towards the cloud-shielded moon outside of the open window, like she always is. You can’t really tell if she’s awake or not, and the alcohol certainly doesn’t help.

This must be what they mean when they talk about magnetic fields. We’re immersed in them all the time, but we can’t see it, something about a wavelength our eyes are not tuned to. It’s like even when it’s past your bedtime (which on a weekend night like tonight is at least three hours after your regular bedtime), the sky completely starless, when you zig-zag through the streets and keeping your balance requires a voluntary effort, when your white shirt has more than one almost fully dried Bordeaux stain on it, you don’t know why or how, but your red needle always points back home, back to her.

You always manage to find your way to your shared bed, well, shared right in this moment, but often, too often one could easily argue, the bed feels hollow and freezing as Jisoo’s in it alone. Maybe that’s why the first thing she does when you lie down on it, is take your strong arm and wrap it around her waist to hold her close and share some of your alcohol-boosted warmth, and keep her own arm over it as if to ask you to never let go, never leave her again. She’s awake. Your natural response is to use your other hand to brush her long, silky black hair and watch it flow through your fingers, but as she feels your breath caress her shoulders, she knows that you can’t promise much more than that.

This shouldn't work. Well, to be fair, it isn’t working. But throwing stuff away, whether it’s dropping old photos in the fireplace, or leaving an entire relationship behind you to possibly never see your special person again, that hurts. It’s not just about the value of it, no, if that was the case, if that thing you’re throwing away still brought value to you, then you wouldn't be getting rid of it, right? It’s about admitting that something went wrong along the road, that things didn’t work out, that a wrong turn was taken, and that maybe, you were the one who took it. So the only thing you can do is turn away, keep going down that road, and if you ever happen to look back in a moment of accidental lucidity, justify your own mistakes.

So Jisoo reaches back and starts rubbing the outer side of your naked thigh, slowly traveling up to your ass as you lay a trail of quick kisses on her shoulder. Once she starts fiddling with the hem of your boxers and pushing her own butt back towards you, you get the message. You take your underwear off and stroke your dick a couple times before her nightgown is hiked up and her cheeks fully envelop your length. Your pecks take a trip up to her neck while both of you start shifting your hips up and down, back and forth against one another’s, a couple of low moans leaving your mouth.

It was your fault, but what if it wasn’t? What if that girl, what was her name even, hadn’t asked you for a lighter? What if she hadn’t looked at you all night with those warm brown eyes, what if she hadn’t asked you for a ride home? Any of those would’ve fixed this. The nights of yelling at each other’s faces and the nights of dead silence, the feeling of unbridgeable distance even when holding hands, the cool air of beach days in the middle of August. Maybe invisible walls are the best solution in some cases, and fuck it if they break some people’s immersion, as long as you can see the sun rise in the distance, you can live with not being able to touch it.

Jisoo suddenly stops her motion just to raise her thigh a little, suggesting you to enter. You align yourself with her slit and penetrate her warmth, her slick coating easing you through her walls and quickly letting you bottom out inside her, but as soon as you try to retreat, she puts a hand on your hip, halting its movement. She just places her thigh back down and stays still for a few seconds. A few seconds that enclose some kind of understanding, or, a feeling of understanding, at the very least. Most of the times when you have a revelation, an epiphany, you have no idea what the fuck is being revealed to you, you only see the light bulb turn on. Your kisses get wetter and longer, traveling from her upper neck to her ear and to her jaw, your hand finds itself on her soft, perfectly sized mound. She starts contracting her abdominal muscles repeatedly and rhythmically, squeezing your shaft between her tight walls, your pelvis still fixed in its place. You see her skin glow more than usual under the faint moonlight, and you think you taste a little salt as your tongue brushes her cheek, which you can’t help but groan on every time Jisoo tenses around you.

Invisible walls are not meant to be broken. They’re meant to disengage, to discourage. What does it say about us when they manage to do what they’re meant to? Is it sad, disheartening? Does it speak about our sense of agency as a whole? What if you did something different, what if it was your fault? You can’t go back, so what can you do about it now? Another night of getting drunk, another night of having sex, in each other’s embrace but miles away.

Your hand feels up her thigh as hers reaches between your legs from the back and starts massaging your testicles. You can’t hold back anymore. Her abs contract once, twice. You stop counting, she feels too good. Your thigh wraps around hers as you cum inside, letting out multiple guttural moans right next to her ear. You drop load after load of white paint onto her walls and into her womb.

You think you hear a little sniffle. Again, the only response is to caress her hair and leave one long kiss on the back of her head. Not more. Sometimes we hurt people that love us, love people that hurt us. And if it’s true that opposites attract, then likes must also repel.

footnotes.

sorry if this is depressing. how can i help you get back to horny, the superior mood? lunatically, leaf.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #girl group smut #idol smut #female idol smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #idol x reader #idol x male reader #blackpink #jisoo #kim jisoo #blackpink jisoo #blackpink smut #jisoo smut #kim jisoo smut #blackpink jisoo smut

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koliejeon · 7 months

Text

Tainted by You - JJK

╰┈➤ 𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: nerd yandere jk x queen bee reader!

╰┈➤ 𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: who would have thought that being tainted by the nerd Jeon Jungkook would feel this good.

╰┈➤ 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 3.3k+

╰┈➤ 𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: manipulation, gaslighting, dumbification cock riding, fingering, dom jk, sub! reader, cream pie, squirting, size kink, blackmailing, yandere jk, slightly mean jk, degradation.

You're considered the queen bee of your university, the one who's always seen as the epitome of perfection, with everyone admiring how much of a pretty face and a smart student you are. Being looked up to by everyone on this kind of level really boosts your ego, so it's a shame if anyone would know how much of a moaning bitch you are while riding the cock of the biggest nerd in school, Jeon Jungkook.

But It's not your fault that he just fucks you too good...

He’s just too good at it that you can’t help youself coming back for more, even if you fully knew that this would taint your reputation as a queen bee. I mean, everyone’s expecting you to date someone who’s on your level, and not just a nerd dude with a messy curly black hair and thick glasses that just covers his features.

But to your defense, he’s not what everyone is thinking of him of. That boy who’s always shy around people, and just keeps himself accompanied with his books has a totally different persona when it’s just the two of you alone. He’s not shy, he’s actually arrogant, mean, manipulative and hot…

Yeah, hot… like how hot the depts of hell could feel like.

It all started last month when your stupid history professor decided to paired you up with him for a project. You didn’t have a problem with it, you thought that with this project, he might open up with you and to others instead of being that awkward nerd guy that everyone hates.

╰┈➤ 𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙝

The bell rang as a sign that the class discussion has already ended and that it’s now time for lunch. “You may now leave the class, don’t forget to communicate with your partners and discuss the project” Mr. Lim, your History professor, reminded to everyone as they started packing their things to leave the class. Some replied a simple “yes” to him, while some didn’t bother and just hurriedly leave the room before the canteen seats would run out.

“Y/N, hurry up, let’s go now!” Jennie, who’s one of your friends said to you as she’s waiting for you near the classroom’s door. You smiled at here and was about to say something along the lines of “Yeah, i’m coming,” but you got distracted when you saw the boy in one of the backseats, he looks so lonely in there packing his things ever so slowly – probably taking his time since no one is inviting him anyway to go for a lunch, and for some reason you felt pity for him. “Actually, just go ahead first, I remember I have something to do this time” you lied to her, and she simply just agreed to what you said as she quickly tag along with her other friends.

Now it’s just the two of you alone in the classroom, you awkwardly approach him… unsure of how to start a conversation with him. “Uhm… Jungkook right?” you asked even know the answer is already obvious. He looked up at you and stared at you for atleast 5 seconds before responding “Y-yeah that’s me” he managed to mutter that out with a little stutter. You thought he was just shy, and you hate it. This is literally the reason why he’s being made fun of by those bullies. You brushed off that thought as you brightly smiled at him, “Great! I’m Y/N, Mr. Lim paired us up for the project. I suggest if we start doing it as early as possible”

“I’m okay with that” he simply replied.

“I’m free later, are you okay with that? I just don’t know where we can do the project though, My apartment is not that great since it’s small and I’m sharing it with Jennie” You stated, already feeling comfortable in conversing with him even though he’s not literally replying anything and just looking at you. You guess he’s more of a listener rather than a talker. “Aha! How about we do the project at your place?” you suggested out of nowhere. The project has to do with arts and crafts, so coffee shops are not the best place to do the project.

Jungkook eyes seemed to widen from being shock with what you’ve said. He can't even believe it. You want to go to his house??? This is something straight out from his dreams.

“Y-yeah…sure, why not” he was really glad and euphoric that you’ve said that, but his reply came like he was just forced to say yes. “Great! You can send me your address” you said, and he frowned but not enough for you to notice, what do you mean by that? You don’t wanna go with him together at his house later? “Uhm… lets just go together later” he suggested, and you nervously chuckled, no way your gonna go with him after class, people might see you and probably make fun of you for hanging out with a weird guy like him.

“But-”

“It’s kind of far away from here and you might get lost” he explained without stuttering, while straightly looking in your eyes. Those thick glasses might have cover his intense gaze, but definitely not the tension that’s starting to form in the room.

There’s this something from his aura, it’s like a sudden change that you could clearly figure out, but it surely made you nervous as you gulped. You wanted to say something but you were unable to get the right word out of your mouth, so instead you simply just agreed with him “...m’kay” you said while looking at the ground like a child who got declined by your parents to buy the toy that you wanted in the store.

Yeah, you wanted to somehow talk to him, but not like this! You were sulking with the idea and Jungkook found it cute that he smirk at your behavior. He broke the silence by saying good bye to you for now, “So I guess were already settled? I’ll see you at the parking lot”

╰┈➤ 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙥𝙨 - 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙤𝙩

It’s already 6 PM when I headed in the parking lot as I try to spot where Jungkook might be. Classes are already finished at 5:30 PM but I made sure to be late so that no one familiar would spot me getting onto Jungkook’s vehicle. This almost feels like I’m doing some sort of a crime, even though I am not. After a few minutes of searching he spots me and raised his hand to get my attention. I immediately went into his direction and damn… I just don’t know how to feel.

He’s leaning in a black sedan that I suppose is his with his left hand in his pocket and the other hand holding a cigarette. This is the only time that I’ve noticed he has veiny hands. Just what the actual fuck! It feels like I’m looking at the same person from an hour ago! He’s definitely not the typical nerd you get to see everyday. I mean, a nerd with a sedan who’s looking hot as ever while smoking?! I was basically gawking at the new sight, and I only got out from my delusions when he cleared his throat.

“Let’s go?” He said as he throw the cigarette on the ground and stomped on it. “Yeah” is the only thing I was able to mutter as I went to the passenger side of his car. I buckled my seatbelt on, and he started driving. He was wearing a ripped jeans and a grey Calvin Clien hoodie that he later on re-adjusted, exposing his left arm that is covered with tattoos. Do I even fully know this guy??? It seems like all those school gossips about him are just pure lies.

He was not lying, his house was really a bit far from the University, not to mention the slight traffic on the way. His house was located somewhere inside of an expensive looking village.

“You live here?” You asked after getting out of his car. The house was big, and looks expensive with a modern touch to its’ architecture. “Yeah, my parents gifted it to me last year” he replied like it was nothing as he guided you through the main entrance of his house. What kind of parents would gift their child an expensive house?! For fucks sake he didn’t even graduated yet or is about to get married. His parents must be crazy rich like those in the movies.

“I already have the needed materials, is it okay for you to wait here? I just needed to freshen up”

“Ugh… yeah sure. I’ll just play some music in my phone” I said, and he simply chuckled before opening the television for me without saying anything. I feel poor being here., well yeah my parents are also well-off, but not on this level! Waiting for him for at least 25 minutes was boring so I just made myself at home as I watched the movie playing in the television.

“You should take a picture” he suddenly said which caught me off guard

“I- what?”

“You’re looking at me a little too much”

“No I wasn’t!” I tried to deny it even though it was already obvious as my face became as red as a tomato from being so embarrassed, that I choosed to look on the floor, being shy to even look at him” Inside of my head, I was scolding myself for acting that way, he must have now think of me as a pervert!

He started approaching me, and before I knew it, he lifted up my chin as he cupped my face with both of his hands so that I would look at him. We we’re both looking at each other’s eyes, and then everything just happened so fast, I didn’t even know why I let It happen, but we we’re now passionately kissing as both of our tongues fought for dominance in which he obviously won. We were now in his bedroom but before things could get even more heated, I tap his shoulder thrice as a sign that I want it to stop. Gladly, he accepted my request and pulled back, “This is wrong” I simply told him, and a that made him ‘tsk’ as his face contorted an annoyed look.

“Wrong? Tell me what’s wrong about this Y/N?!” He answered back, he’s clearly not liking what I’ve told him but him. I can’t just answer him by saying that I don’t want to be associated with someone like him, people would make fun of me, and my reputation as a queen bee who’s always been perfect would be tainted. I don’t want them to think that choosing Jungkook was a bad decision, and that I’ve made a wrong decision. But I just can’t also tell that to Jungkook, I don’t want him to feel bad himself even though those are the true reason. I remained silent without moving a single inch of my body, my hand are still in his shoulder while he’s arms are wrapped on my waist. We were standing in the middle of the room, but even though were close enough, I didn’t had the urge to look in his eyes even though I know that he’s looking at me with burning gaze.

“What? You don’t know how to answer now? Cat got your tongue? Or you’re stupid little mind can’t just comprehend simple things?!” All his words hurt like hell, I didn’t even realize he could say such mean things to me, when all I knew is that we was that shy nerd boy at the back of the class who doesn’t even know how to fight back from his bullies. “Stupid Y/N, can’t even explain herself” he continued belittling me and it was all to much that I burst out and cry myself in his chest. He was shocked for a while but then embraced me in his arms as he let me cry all my worries while shushing me down “Shhh it’s okay darling, I know you’re little brain hurts from thinking too much, you don’t have to think, that’s my job, and you only have to follow what I say, right? It’s true, my mind was clouded and it hurts, so I just let him embrace me while drawing circles on my back.

It stayed like that for a while but then Jungkook drop the bomb, “I know you think it’s wrong because it would taint your reputation. Their poor queen bee Lee Y/N dating the nerd Jeon Jungkook? Doesn’t sound good to them right?” I look up at him, unable to say anything, and that just made me tear up more. “I’m sorry” I muttered to him as I buried myself in his bare chest, the citrus scent of his body wash engulfing my nostrils.

“Shhh… it’s okay baby, I know how much you love the attention the campus is giving you, it makes your dumb ego grow right? But the thing is, you ONLY need my attention”

“I’m sorry - Y/N’s really sorry” I said, already at my worst point as I continued to cry. I feel like a bad person based on what’s he’s telling me, but that’s the truth, I’m too self-concious of what people will say to me, I’m someone who starved attention, and I just feel bad that Jungkook has to know that side of me, and I’m now thinking that I hurted his feelings because I was too selfish. So I kept on apologizing “Gguk, Y/N’s sorry, please forgive her”

Jungkook smirked in victory, he knew he fully had you in control, oh just how easy it is to manipulate you. To break you into pieces so that he can fix you again, and then make feel like he’s the only one who can fix and save you from yourself.

“Shh… I was really hurt, darling. What you did was wrong, how come you think of me as a person that would taint your reputation when all I do is love you from a far?” that made me feel guilty more…

“But I would forgive you if…

“If what? Please tell me, Gguk, I will make it up to you, I promise!” I said, feeling determined to fix my mistake.

“If you make love with me. Prove me that you love me, that you need me, and that you’re not afraid to be tainted by me” and so, without much thought, I kissed him deeply, I opened my mouth, inviting him to intertwine his tongue in my hot cavern, as he lifted my shirt and carry me on his bed. I am now laying on my back, the tension from both us rising as I hurriedly removed my pants, leaving me in my underwear. The sight infront of me, him hovering above me as he continued kissing me while exploring every inch of my body had me whimpering in his bed. He started attacking my neck, making sure to leave as many hickies he could so that everyone knows I’m his.

His right hand started massaging my breast while the one started licking and sucking my nipple. The pleasure was just too good to be true, and after a seconds, my buds now sensitive and hardened as I continued moaning shamelessly. The pleasure that he’s giving me was just too god that I started unconciously buckling my hips to his hardened dick. “Too impatients aren’t you?” he teased, and I just whimpered. He took off my panties, looking at my dripping core, already wet for him. “Please hurry,” “Easy there, princess we have to to adjust your pretty little pussy first so it woudn’t hurt that much, okay?” he’s talking to me as if I’m some dumb kid, it was embarrasing but it makes me more turned on. Two fingers were pushed in my hole, I was shocked at the sudden intrusion but he soothed it by drawing circles on clit. “See? My fingers are even too much for you, how can you properly take my cock if you’re like that?” I wanted to disagree with him but I coudn’t utter a single word as he started fastly moving his digits inside me. “One more, please” he only chuckled after hearing that, and I’ve never felt so pathetic in my entire life. He must’ve known that I’m being dumbly determined just to impress him, but I later regret that when he fulfilled my wish.

“As you wish, darling” the third finger definitely burned my inside like hell, he’s fingers are not just long but also thick. After some time, my moans got louder and louder as I trembled in his fingers, and before I knew it, I squirted a lot, but he didn’t stop from fingering me, until I was begging him to stop “Ggukie…. To-too much please” and with that he removed his fingers on me...

“You haven’t even got the real thing yet. Plus you promised me, you would make it up for me, right? I was really hurt you know?”

“Sorry, I forgot” I embarrassedly admitted with a pout and he only chuckled at me “I know, it’s okay, I’m always here to remind you”

“Have you tried riding a cock before?” his question caught me off guard,

“What??? No I’ve never! Plus… you’re actually my first”

“Good, cause I will make sure that that person would die, if someone comes first on you before me. How about you become a good girl and right my dick, yeah? Prove me that you’re really sorry” I blushed at his statement but I didn’t bother to disagree with his request, I was at fault and I should make it up.

He’s leaning on the headboard right now, and Ii’m straddling his lap, while he lined up his cock in my entrance. I started moving down ever so slowly, but Jungkook was patient enough. But you know what they say, patience can also grew out easily, “What if it hurts?” I dumbly asked him, knowing that it would hurt more after seeing his size. He’s length is around 7 inch and it’s very thick, “It’s supposed to hurt, Darling” and with that, both of his hands pushed me down on his length, it hurt at first, but after a few seconds of adjusting, it felt like a bliss of heaven. I continued to bounce up and down on his length while moaning loudly as he played with my boobs, “Touch your clit, love” I did as what I was told and it was the best feeling I could ever imagine. Later on, I grew tired and cummed on his dick, but he didn’t stop there, instead he controlled my hip movement as he buckled is hips to reach his high and cum deep inside me. I was already pliant as black out after the session.

You may have not seen it, but Jungkook had the biggest grin of victory on his face, as he removed his now soften length inside your pussy. You’re already passed out, so Jungkook took the time to clean both of you as he covered your body with clean sheets. Little did you know, everything was recorded, from the moment the two of you step in his room. Jungkook would surely play the video sometime to jerk on you, and maybe use it for blackmail if you started acting up. But for now, you don’t have to know anything, what the two of you have, the thing that he made you believe, is already enough for him, cause he succesfully tainted you.

#yandere jungkook #jungkook #bts fanfic #fanfic #jungkook ff #smut #bts smut

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bunny-lily · 3 months

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Tether Me - Chapter 5: Part 2

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader Summary: Finding them wasn’t hard, not when they towered above everyone else with ease, and not when the people parted between you and them like the Red Sea. In spite of how many were gathered for the event, and the fact that the day wasn’t even about them, they monopolized all the attention without effort.

Of course, they would.

They were picture perfect – handsome, strong, alluring. They were the cream of the crop, even when they weren’t trying, and would be in any place they went to, not just within this small place you’d chosen to settle down in.

Something cold settled at the base of your esophagus as you processed what you saw.

Fairy lights wrapped around the pergola, dipping between the wooden beams to create a droopy weave, illuminating the short dais used to officiate the wedding. A swarm of tables surrounded the front of it, dozens of candles lit all about. Plates were set atop each table, and the slips of paper to indicate whose seat belonged to who had been set aside when everyone took their place earlier to feast.

Meals were exchanged for dancing and partying, filling the landscape with loud festivities.

It resembled a dream, this hazy setting and ambient glow at the center of the park.

Dozens upon dozens of people had gathered to celebrate the day – you wouldn’t be surprised if the entire village had shown up. Given how tight-knit the community was here, it was logical that everyone and their dog would come to rejoice in the special occasion. It was lively with the sheer amount of people around, each chattering excitedly, high off the triumph of two coming together as one.

Following suit of the many before you, you had slipped off your sandals, using Satoru’s hand as support while you tucked them away somewhere out of the way, but easy to find.

The grass was pleasant under your bare feet, fluffy and cool, but not so cold as to be biting.

Frequently, you would skirt your hands along the texture of your dress, preening from the delight of feeling pretty. The last time you’d dolled yourself up like this was far enough in the past for you to not remember, so you were a tad obsessed.

You manifested being sexier as you were falling asleep in bed, and here you were! Sexy was the understatement of the century – you looked hot.

Too bad you were a hint shy of showing off during a wedding in a village you’d barely begun sprouting roots in.

Satoru and Suguru had no similar qualms.

They were wholly eager to pose and strut you around on their arms like a queen. It was humiliating and exhilarating in equal measure. Acrimonious discontentment from other guests vying for your position rolled off your hydro-proof form, boosting your ego and leaving you untouchable.

It was humorous, really, to watch them fall over themselves to get the attention of one or both boys, blocked by the armor your existence alone made of them.

Good Lord, though, there were a lot of them.

You mentally tried to calculate how many of the people attending knew about Aoi’s and her fiancé’s – now husband’s – escapades through the evening. Maybe it was the whole village. You imagined it would be hard to not know; they sounded like foxes, or mountain lions, if she was in the mood to sound particularly murder-victim-esque.

You were grateful you didn't have to interact with the groom and bride much. Anytime you saw them, you remembered his bare ass on the one night you forgot about Shoko’s warning about Thursdays and learned the consequences the hard way. His half-ass (literally) had been seared into your mind.

Seeing familiar faces here brought you a comfort you didn’t know you needed, coaxing you to release your wound muscles. Granny was across the field, talking to Shoko and Iori. Scolding, more like. The old lady was tugging on the edge of Shoko’s mini dress, no doubt reprimanding her for the length of it.

Shoko could not have possibly been less bothered.

She had a drink in one hand, lit cigarette pinched between two fingers and pressed against the glass, and a shiteating smirk on her lips. You’d only ever seen her in baggy or thick clothes, but, wow, she pulled off that outfit like a model.

Utahime was hanging off her arm, three beers in and working on a fourth, using Granny’s distraction to chug away shamelessly. In contrast to Shoko, her clothing was modest, consisting of a floral-patterned maxi dress, her hair tied back into one ponytail as opposed to her typical pigtails.

You’d seen Kazuhiko, too, surprisingly. You two talked briefly, your short conversation consisting of you updating him on the state of your house and promising to show him at the next opportunity as his wife was dragging him off to socialize. His wife was hyper, enthusiastic about meeting everyone and sharing her congratulations to the couple. You envied her innocence, wishing for her to never have to experience what you did.

The sound of someone calling – screaming, to be more accurate – your name captured your attention. You spun, and found Suguru’s mother frantically waving her hands high above herself, as if she didn’t stand a head and a half above everyone else.

You grinned and waved back, then tugged on the sleeve of Satoru’s suit. “I’m gonna go talk with Suguru’s mom. I’ll be back soon.”

He and Suguru were placing bets on who would get shitfaced first between Utahime and Shoko, and barely spared you a nod. “Don’t take too long, princess!” He implored.

You vaguely confirmed you wouldn’t as you made your way to the woman, who came to meet you halfway, too impatient to wait for you to approach.

“Hi, Geto-mama,” you said, and swiftly got squished to her chest in a bone-crushing hug.

“Oh, my sweetie!” She squealed. “Aren’t you just the prettiest thing? Goodness, that dress looks amazing on you! Did you pick it out? It fits you so well!”

She spoke like a full-auto gun, babbling out words faster than sound.

“Thank you,” you rasped out, patting her back. “It was Suguru and Satoru, they got it for me.”

She grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you back to get a good look at you. She inspected your outfit from head to toe, scrutinizing. Eventually, you gained an extra dash of approval from her, making you feel honored.

“They did a fantastic job, those two. You look gorgeous, baby girl. Even better than the bride,” she acclaimed.

You blushed. “Don’t say that! This is her wedding!”

She bent down and cupped a hand around your ear. “Forgive me for favoring my beloved girl over the bride. Those two go at it like dogs, it’s hard to look her in the damn eye after seeing her husband’s bare ass.”

You gasped. “You, too!?”

Sympathy shined in her caramel eyes. “Oh, my darling child, the world is evil to have subjected you to the sight of that man’s poor excuse of a behind.”

You burst out into laughter, Yoriko doing the same shortly after. It was relieving to know you weren’t the only one traumatized by the sight of a pasty pair of cheeks, even more so that it was Geto-mama who understood your pain.

“Think they’ll go at it again tonight?” You asked, fanning your face to keep tears from ruining your makeup. “Y’know, consummation and all that.”

“Heavens, I hope not,” she feigned a gag. “I’ll down all the alcohol here in one go if they do that in the park of all places. God forbid they do it while the party is still going. At the very least, they could have some decency to go into the mountains, far from here.”

“How many people do you think know about their, uh…activities?” You questioned, pointedly glancing around.

She stood akimbo. “Oh, it has to be everyone. I can hear them from my house, and that’s on the other side of the river. Thursday nights, we put on a movie and turn up the volume louder in hopes of drowning out the sounds. I mean, honestly, he can’t be that good at it.”

You hummed. “I thought someone was hurt when I first heard them go at it. She sounds so…”

“Scary,” Geto-mama finished for you.

“Right!?” A full-body shudder went through you. “I didn’t know people could sound like that.”

She sighed and shook her head, choosing to move the topic over a few notches in a safer direction. “Well, aside from all that, how are you enjoying the wedding, sweet girl?”

“Unexpectedly fun,” you said. “I’ve only been to two other weddings in the past, and they were boring to the point of pain. Nothing to do, y’know? I wasn’t anticipating this one would be a borderline festival.”

“Everyone works together to make weddings memorable around here. We’re all one big family, in a sense. Their joy is our joy,” her lips pulled up into a motherly sort of fondness, directed at you. “You’ll see when it’s your turn, baby girl. I’m glad you came, I was worried you’d be overwhelmed. You’re always welcome, you know?”

You didn’t want to disappoint Yoriko by telling her you wouldn’t be getting your own turn. Instead, you looped your arms around her waist and squeezed. “Thank you, Geto-mama. I’m happy I got to see you today!”

She patted your head. “Likewise, sweetheart. Now, off you go! I’m sure the boys are missing you, I’ve kept you long enough.”

Releasing her, you stepped back, beaming at her. “It was good to see you! We’ll talk more soon?”

“Absolutely!” She agreed and made shooing motions with her hands. “Go, go. Don’t keep them waiting!”

Taking her advice, you faced the party and sought them out. They weren’t where you last left them, likely having moved around to mingle and share in the merriment. You stood up on your toes, searching for either ivory or obsidian tresses.

It didn’t take you long.

Finding them wasn’t hard, not when they towered above everyone else with ease, and not when the people parted between you and them like the Red Sea. In spite of how many were gathered for the event, and the fact that the day wasn’t even about them, they monopolized all the attention without effort.

Of course, they would.

Something cold settled at the base of your esophagus as you processed what you saw.

You wished you hadn’t seen them.

You wished they were hidden so that you’d have to push through a crowd to find them. Maybe then, you would have been too close to realize. If that were the case, you would have had a chance to stop what was unraveling in slow motion before you.

They were surrounded by a group of girls – beautiful girls – each one fluttering their thick lashes and puckering their merlot-painted lips. You could hear their obnoxious, high-pitched giggles from clear across the field, over the music and yammering and the droning spring air. One grabbed onto Suguru’s arm, hugging it so tightly between her bust, you thought she might cut off the circulation in his fingers between her tits.

Instead of pulling away, he tipped his head down and said something you couldn’t decipher from attempting to read his lips alone at this distance, to which she laughed.

Something uncomfortably tight formed in your chest, a twist centered beneath your breastbone. It pinched, stung; a poisoned needle shooting straight into your stomach.

Paper lanterns.

A knife had wedged itself between your innards too snuggly, the exact same temperature as the rest of your body, the only proof of its existence being the displacing sensation of your intestines and the spreading chill that zapped under your skin like instant ice. The pit in your belly dropped to your heels, heavy as a sack of sand.

Your fingertips trembled, frozen over and stiff and numb, regardless of the warmth that they contained mere moments ago.

You felt sick, and you didn’t understand why.

It came on so suddenly that you never would have been able to avoid it, even if you knew it was coming. The rotting sensation burrowed itself deep into your gut, impossibly dense and suffocating. Its hands crawled up your insides, wiggling between your ribs and lungs to wrap spindly fingers around your throat.

Satoru winked at the lady in front of him.

Those fingers squeezed.

You got the inkling that they didn’t want you to be their date for the sake of, well, being their date. For the sake of laughing, dancing, eating, and drinking together. For being with each other, with your friends, cherishing the evening by toasting and clinking glasses and sharing stories. For meaning something to one another.

It was for the sake of keeping annoyances off their backs.

The women only flocked to them as soon as you left for a few minutes. Together, the three of you were unapproachable, and you were unbothered by the vile, envious glares pinned on you. Hell, you found it funny.

Now that you were gone, their shield had been removed.

This wasn’t about you and them, it never was. It was only about them.

In a trio, there’s always a duo.

It was your fault for getting greedy, for deluding yourself into believing you were more to them than a barrier. You had nobody to blame but yourself for the clawing sensation creeping up the column of your gullet that forced saliva to flood your mouth, lest its acid slip out.

Respiring felt so difficult, like trying to inhale through a straw, each gasp shallow and dizzying.

You siphoned a thick breath in, a quivering thing, and immediately regretted it as a wave of nausea coated your insides, choking you, sitting on your epiglottis.

Disgust curled in your gut as the girl attached to Suguru’s arm leapt up from her tip-toes and planted a kiss on his cheek – one that left a stain in bright red in the shape of her lips, vaguely love-shaped.

She marked him.

She marked Suguru, who hated the feeling of anything sticking to his skin. Suguru, who hated having his personal space invaded. Suguru, who hated excessive affection.

Suguru, whose lips curled upwards.

Suguru, who gave the peppy girl that smile, the one you adored so much, the one that always lifted your spirits and made you feel safe and seen.

The one you thought he only gave you.

Suguru, who shattered your heart.

Tether.

Something in you fissured, then simply broke. The stilts holding you up hewed, sending you careening towards the ground with no way to catch yourself.

The winds died, the gales gave your fragile wooden frame one last, harsh clap, and you were falling.

Kite.

You couldn’t stand the suffocation anymore, couldn’t stand to see them be so inviting and enticing to everyone. You feared you’d throw up if you stayed any longer. What you had already seen was soldered to your consciousness, engraved behind your eyes so that every time you closed them, you saw Satoru and Suguru, basking in affection.

Forgetting you.

Nobody noticed you walking towards the edge of the plain, where you had left your sandals in favor of enjoying the soft grass under your soles while you pranced. Your sandals were in the same spot you left them, amidst the ocean of others.

For some reason, they were abnormally strenuous to put on. Your fingers vibrated viciously, frustrating you as you shoved your feet into them and tried to slip the ends of the straps through the buckles.

You cursed under your breath, struggling, fighting. Once you finally managed, you pulled them hard, clearly over tightening them. You didn’t care. You just wanted to leave. To go far, far, far away.

The second you were certain they wouldn’t fall off, you stepped onto the road and turned towards the direction of home.

Your home, where you’d be alone.

You ignored the sharp pain of the cords digging and cutting into your Achilles tendons, too caught up in the hurricane of your emotions to pay attention to much else.

A tornado whirled through your skull, jumbling everything until you were left with a sensation of panic thrumming beneath your skin, scratching from the inside out. Words were thrown, lost, confused, but one thought shined clear as day.

Run.

The streets seemed so much darker. It had to have been your imagination, seeing as you were leaving the massive gathering, where life and light was. It only exacerbated your anxiety, urging you to run faster, break out into a sprint, leave everything behind.

The voice was back, the one that crowed and trilled and spewed acrid threats into your ear. The one that whispered how worthless you were, how you weren’t wanted, how you had to turn tail and vanish ayond eyesight. You’d overstayed your welcome.

You didn’t understand what you were feeling. Anger? Betrayal? Hurt? Fear? Plain old sadness?

You didn't know what, and you didn't know why. All you knew was that you hated it.

You had no reason to feel this way, and would not be vindicated for doing so. Why had it mattered to you to see them flirting with others? Who were they to you?

Your friends, obviously. That’s all they could be.

If that was the case, who were you to them?

…Were you their friend?

You didn't want to think about it. It made the strained clamps around your lungs constrict further, you couldn’t afford it.

The shift between asphalt and packed dirt went unregistered by you, all sensation to the physical world lost. Goosebumps raised along your arms, prickling, yet you didn’t sense it. Not the way you clawed at your forearm for a sense of stability, searching for anything to ground you.

A year.

You lasted a year.

A new record to be proud of, throwing the last one out of the water by a landslide. You hadn’t stayed in one location for nearly as long as this since you were a child.

You should have been bragging to yourself, parading with the knowledge that you might have been getting better after all this time.

All you wanted to do was die.

You hugged yourself, staving off the cold by reflex more than conscious action. The houses had become further spaced out, the sidelines blurred. Your body was moving on autopilot, unseeing as muscle memory took you the rest of the way home.

What were you doing? Thinking? You should have known this would happen. You did know, but chose to ignore it, and for what? You played yourself by getting attached when you were aware from the beginning that it would all come to an end sooner or later. You got greedy, took more than you were allowed, selfishly ripped a mile from your mind when you were offered less than an inch.

This was your fault. You were the cause of this. You became complacent. You stopped walking when you should have just kept going.

“Idiot, idiot, idiot, you goddamn, stupid bitch!” You whisper-shouted at yourself as you dug the spare key out from under the doormat and jammed it into the lock of your door, unaware of the exact timing of your arrival. The door fought against you, further enraging you.

Your feet ached, skin sore and wounded, yet it felt like nothing in comparison to the gnawing in your stomach. Your body was on fire, begging for reprieve, anything to lift the pain and mend the hurt.

You shoved open the door and angrily stomped inside, slamming a palm against the wall on your left.

Barely two steps into your home and you had all but ripped off your sandals with enough force to damage the straps. The relief of pressure off your ankles only served to aggravate the reddened and tender flesh affected by your apathy towards yourself. Exposed to air, your heels throbbed. You tried to let it anchor you, but it didn’t work.

Wrathfully moving forward, you grabbed the bottom hem of your dress and tugged it over your head and off yourself harshly. Your arm wound up to throw it, but your body seized, a shock zapping through your nervous system.

Even in distress, with your mind anywhere but a state of clarity, you still couldn’t bring yourself to disrespect something given to you.

Something they gave you.

Your hands trembled as you laid it across the back of the couch, plucked the corsages from your wrists to place on the coffee table, and you used your pent up energy on your poor bra instead. You unclasped the sucker and catapulted it somewhere with all the force you could muster, and chased it down with a long-suffering scream that tore up your throat.

How fortunate you were to live where nobody could hear you retch and sob.

Every nerve in your body felt like a spring, pressed down, ready to burst. All under your skin, live wire writhed, raring to shred through measly flesh and bone. At this point, you just wanted it to be over with. You’d let them leer and scorn as they seared through your senses agonizingly, then shut off your feelings altogether, so long as it put you out of your misery.

The tightness in your muscles made you shake and wheeze, pain jolting from the center of your chest, down your limbs, stinging in the tips of your fingers. Doing anything was a struggle in this state.

You hated what adrenaline did to you.

You hated yourself.

Gritting your teeth and resisting the urge to claw your way into your own stomach, you channeled that energy into rushing down the hall to your bedroom.

That poor door didn’t deserve to have your anger taken out on it, but you couldn’t find a shit or two to give. Not now, not when everything around you was collapsing. Skyscraper zeniths were crumbling, towering concrete monstrosities aiming to crush you.

And, hell, you’d let them.

Your dresser earned itself a beastly growl from you when you opened it too harshly, causing it to close back up. You wanted to tear everything apart, to rake your nails through wood and stone and bone and dig until your nails were broken and dirt was caked deep into your dermis. Surely, then, the pain would go away.

Clothing rustled violently, short of enough friction to start a fire by a millimeter. You scavenged, unsure of what you were searching for until your fingers closed around the texture your brain subconsciously required to calm itself.

You pulled out the t-shirt, and stalled.

It was the one Suguru gave you. Rather, the one you ‘stole’ with his blessing, but his regardless.

The black material was soft in your grasp, worn and well-loved, a few sizes too big for you. There was a faded band logo on the front of it, colors now grayscale after years of appreciation.

Your hands visibly trembled as you loosened the unfair death grip you had on the top. It didn’t deserve your indignation, your pain. It didn’t deserve to have its fibers pulled too far, to have its devotion to being a quality material shorn from it. It was a shirt, after all, not the source of your suffering.

Its previous owner was; that didn’t shift the blame to the cloth.

But, it reminded you of him.

It reminded you of what you saw at the park, the helplessness that came with having your world crumble before you even knew you were living in it, the hopelessness that came with knowing you’d never be able to rebuild it.

It reminded you of the chai he made, of the way he’d coat your clean hair with leave-in conditioner to smooth down the frizz and encourage silkiness.

The way he’d hold your hands in winter to keep out the burn of frost, the way he’d let you lean against him as he read, the way his long fingers would diligently trace the sketched pattern of your wall, painting life into it.

It reminded you of what it meant to be happy.

Your teeth clicked together, jaw jittery. You clenched it, muscles jumping in your neck.

It didn't help.

The shirt moved around in your palms, peeled open to allow it to slip onto your bare self, covering the short hairs that sprung up from the chill of being naked.

A shaky breath filled your lungs, and you pressed the heel of your hand against your sternum. Your heart thudded and wept so loudly, so angrily, so painfully. You could feel it all the way through to your elbow, hear it beat against your eardrums, taste its toxic copper on the back of your tongue.

Most of your mind had shut down to a lowered percentage of function that made everything fuzzy. You were missing time. How long you stood in your room, doing nothing, you didn’t know. You weren’t aware you had gone to the bathroom until you were partially through cleaning off all the hard work you’d put into prettying yourself up.

You stopped, staring at yourself in the reflection of your mirror.

You looked…tired. Felt it, too.

You looked like you were hanging on by your fingers, losing trust in your strength.

It was so tempting to let go.

Choosing not to waste more energy than necessary on it, you finished what you started, washing away the color and vitality from your face. Bit by bit, you lost more of who you were, and gained more of who you used to be.

Ordinary. Unmemorable. Broken.

Beneath the façade existed the truth you’d tried to cover, to pretend didn’t exist. For months, you’d succeeded in this endeavor, in playing the part of normal. It was catching up to you, and you were out of breath, exhausted, and empty.

You couldn’t avoid it any longer.

Prying your lids apart, you peered at the bottom of the mirror, meeting the unwavering, morbidly curious stare of a young girl.

You looked like her, a little. Same eyes, same curve to your upper lip, same hair color. You were older, familiar and not at the same time. Your eyes were sunken, cheeks hollow. Physically present, but not entirely there. Eyes glazed with a thousand-yard vacancy.

She peered back at you, doe-eyed with innocence and yet-to-be-abandoned faith. Her head fell to the side, little hands holding the edge of the sink to see better. Silently, she tried to pick you apart, to figure out who you were, why you shared a face, but looked so dead in comparison.

What did she see, you contemplated. Did she see hope for the future, the reassurance that she’d grow up, have her own home, be safe from the clutches of a man unloving? That it’d all be okay one day?

Or, did you break her dreams down with the reality that it never would, all without saying a word to one another?

If you could speak to her, what would you say? Would you sit her down, hold her hands, and tell her to give up while she was still ahead? Would you be brutal in your honesty, crush her with the fact that entropy was hovering by the corner, waiting to pounce on her the moment she let down her guard? Would you sit and watch as her confusion morphed into fear, then sadness, then acceptance, all without ever once showing sympathy?

Or, would you lie to her, as your mother had? Would you run your fingers through her hair listlessly, promising her a world that would never be hers? Would you promise her the Sun and Moon, knowing they’d never belong to her?

All those options, yet you stayed mute. You didn’t have anything nice to say to her, so you said nothing.

She opened her mouth, but closed it again, choosing better of it. Hopping off the stool she stood on, she moved away from the mirror and exited the bathroom, and you were seeing yourself again, as you were at present.

There wasn’t much worth examining. Exhaustion and weariness, that’s all there was.

You padded out of the room and to the kitchen, opening a cupboard and standing on your toes. Mugs lined the bottom shelf, but they all went ignored in favor of a specific one.

Your fingers closed around the handle of the ceramic you wanted, taking it from its storage. The surface was smooth to the touch, fired to a glossy sheen that protected its shape and paint.

There was a reason you wanted this one in particular – Satoru had given it to you.

He’d made it himself. He didn’t tell you how, or when he’d done that. You brought into question whether he did make it, or if he was only claiming that to impress you, as it was too well-made to have been created by a novice. Your doubts were dispelled when he had you flip it over and graze your thumb over his signature. It was stamped into the material, indented into clay before being placed in a kiln.

On closer inspection, there were imperfections in it. Bumps, ridges, the hallmarks of something created with his own two hands. Of course, you treasured it. Nobody had given you a gift like it before, and the fact that it came from Satoru only served to further your adoration of it.

You dropped a tea bag and two sugar cubes into it, waiting for the water in your kettle to boil.

The house was dark, all lights extinguished save for the stove overhead and a lamp in the living room. More would only cause you further undue pain. You weren’t sure if you could handle any more, it risked crumbling you completely.

Alertness was returning to you in pieces. You were more aware of your environment and what you were doing, the trade off being completely zoning out in bursts.

The kettle whistled, and you turned it off, pouring the liquid into your mug. Amber leaked out of the tea bag, seeping into the surrounding clearness. Steam rose up, smelling of chamomile and lavender. A suggestion from Suguru.

He was everywhere. Satoru was everywhere. Even in your own home, you couldn’t escape them.

Realization hit you like a train rolling down a hill at full speed, crashing directly into your fragile self with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs.

A teardrop, leaden and blisteringly hot, rolled over your cheek. It carved a new track for itself over your dry skin, beading downwards, following the curve of your jaw, eventually dripping off your chin after accumulating enough weight. A small ripple formed in your ignored tea, inconsequential and so, so powerful. It stirred the seas, warning of rainfall.

“You’re in love, idiot,” you whispered to yourself.

The physical realm dissipated from your perception, replaced by visions of them. The two dorks that somehow found a way into your heart, who convinced you to stay without saying a word. The days you spent together under the sun, dipping into the river, watching movies and eating popcorn. The endless amount of time they spent helping you build yourself a home, picking out paint colors and floor styles and furniture, aiding you in constructing something that was yours.

Everything around you was because of them. The Sun and Moon you were promised, dominating the skies everywhere across the world. They swallowed the world, they were everywhere you looked, at least one of them visible at all times.

Of course you loved them, who wouldn’t? They were perfect.

They breathed, and the planet breathed with them. Flowers bloomed for their sakes, the oceans’ tides bent to their wills, the stars reveled on the tracks they created as the solar system they ruled hurtled through space. It was only inevitable you’d fall for them the same way everyone else had.

You tried to laugh, but the noise that came out was more akin to a wounded animal than a girl having a grand revelation about herself.

Where had you gone wrong?

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Suguru grimaced at the uncomfortable sensation of lipstick residue on his cheek, immediately grabbing a nearby napkin to wipe it off as soon as the girl who left it there pivoted to smack the arm of the girl beside her. The smile he gave her was so tight-lipped and strained, he was worried he'd pop a blood vessel.

He couldn't stand the feeling of any sort of lingering texture on his skin. It made him hyper aware of the spot and caused his flesh to crawl uncomfortably. What happened to personal space? Decorum?

Basic respect for one’s autonomy? Not invading someone’s territory to toe the line of assault?

He got groped more times than he cared to count, and though he smirked and pretended to indulge the hive of bees trying to roast them alive, he was disgusted. He felt nauseous and filthy, the air stifling and sour. How much more of this would he have to endure?

“I miss our mochi,” Satoru lamented to him, not doing all that better. “What’s taking her so long?”

He scanned the field for any sign of you. You weren’t hard to spot, and you said you’d be back soon, yet it had now been…

Suguru glanced down at his watch, a frown marring his expression. Twenty minutes had passed since they last saw you. That was much longer than what he would have liked. Five minutes would have already been pushing it, but twenty? Just how distracting were these girls that the pair lost sight of you for twenty torturous minutes?

“Do you think she’s okay?” He asked the man beside him. “She’s been gone a while.”

Blue eyes narrowed as he, too, began searching the sea of heads to try and spot your hair, or the sparkle of the dress they had given you. Nothing, nada, zip. His jaw clenched, anxiety beginning to spawn beneath his lungs.

He faked a smile to address the annoying group still hounding them, pushing his way out. Though he usually loved the attention, it was insufferable to him now. “Sorry, ladies, I need to do something real quick.”

“Aww, Satoru-san, come back!” One whined, giving him an exaggerated pout.

“I’ll be just a minute,” he responded automatically, already having pointed his attention elsewhere. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed your number as he walked further away to distance himself from the excessive volume of the party.

The phone rang. Once. Twice.

His head twisted in the direction of a familiar ringtone.

Three times.

By the chair you had been sitting at earlier that evening, eating with everyone at your table, your purse sat unattended.

Four times.

He stalked towards it and crouched down, mentally apologizing to you for digging through your stuff.

Five times.

He pulled out your phone, seeing his own contact displayed on the screen. You never changed it, still the same as the day he created it. ✨❤️Satoru❤️✨ flashed on the LCD, mocking him.

‘Hey, sorry I missed your call. Feel free to try again later if I don’t call you back first. Thanks.’

Voicemail.

He pulled his own phone away from his ear and stood slowly, glancing over towards the line of shoes not far from him. Yours were missing.

“Shit.”

He stuffed your phone back into your purse and looped it onto his wrist as he hurriedly made his way back to Suguru, who initially looked relieved upon seeing Satoru’s return, only for that rigid façade of his to disappear instantly.

“What is it–”

“She left,” Gojo interrupted.

Geto’s expression darkened. “She left? Are you sure?”

“Her sandals are gone. Her purse and phone are still here, I can’t reach her.”

“Fuck,” Suguru muttered, pushing his way out from the burning honeybee group, breaking from their restraints. The cries and plaints of the swooning girls had filtered into the background to the two boys. “Where do you think she went?”

The pale-haired man led the other out towards the edge of the clearing. “Dunno. Fuck, we should have been with her. What if something happened to her?”

“Let’s not jump to the worst case, Satoru. Where’d you last see her?”

He scraped through his memory, trying to recall. It was too noisy, whirring filling his mind. The last time he could remember seeing you was when…

His body spun, and he marched over to the two other people he could think to ask.

“Utahime, Shoko.”

Utahime glanced around, her expression souring upon seeing Satoru. “Ugh, it's you. What do you want?”

“Have you seen her?”

She raised a brow. “Seen who? Need a name or something.”

He said your name, and the sass in her withered away. Her distaste twisted into worry as she realized he was being dead serious. “Wait, she's not with you guys?”

“You lost her?” Shoko asked incredulously, aware of the endearment the boys felt towards you.

“That's why we're here,” Suguru said.

Her fingers pinched her chin in consideration, concern etched in her browline. “Isn’t she with Yoriko-san? That’s where I last saw her.”

The nox-haired man searched about, spotting his mother as she gossiped with her other mom-friends. “Mom!”

Unperturbed the sound level, the woman’s head snapped up, always aware of when her child called for her. She speed walked towards them, brows knitting in worry as she grabbed his hands. “What’s the matter, baby?”

“Have you seen angel?” His doting name for you slipped through in his stress.

If she noticed, she was kind enough to not point it out, recognizing the severity in his tone. She frowned. “She told me she’d go look for you boys after we chatted. She could have gotten lost? There’s many people here, after all.”

Satoru shook his head and lifted your items for emphasis. “Her sandals are gone, but her purse and phone are still here.”

Yoriko took a good, long, hard look at both boys. She saw something in their faces they didn’t know, and her shoulders slumped a few inches. Her grim expression changed into a different mien – remorse? Shame?

“I bet you’ll find her at her house,” she stated, releasing Suguru’s hands.

Suguru and Satoru matched one another, disappointment and distress burrowing in their guts. You really had left? Why?

“Her house?” Satoru mumbled. “Why?”

The older woman crossed her arms over her chest. “Normally, I’d discourage men from seeking out women when they want to be alone, but I’m making an exception for this case.”

“Alone? Do you know what happened?” Shoko probed.

Yoriko hummed noncommittally. “She probably saw something she didn’t want to see.”

“Saw something? What? What’d she see?” Satoru was becoming frenetic.

She shook her head. “That’s not for me to say. Go talk to her, boys.”

That was all the encouragement – or, rather, ordering – the two needed. They hardly spared a word to the others as they darted off, marking your house as their destination.

Questions swirled in their minds, individual and linked all at once. Why had you left? What had you seen? What the hell was Yoriko talking about, and why in the world was she so damn vague about it? She clearly knew more than they did, the least she could have done was clue them in on it.

They didn’t speak to each other, both busy in their own heads as they raced to your place, hoping and praying they’d find you there.

The streets were too dark for Satoru’s liking this removed from town, the road illuminated by the sorrowful moon hanging above. The idea of you walking alone unnerved him, set him on edge. You could have gotten hurt, or worse, or – oh, god, what if something bad happened to you? You’d been alone this whole time, and they didn’t know. Where did you go? What were you thinking?

Geto was known to be the calmer of the two. Steady, logical, rational.

He was beyond ration right now. He alternated between wanting – needing – to take you into his arms and never let go, to assure himself that you were okay, alive, there, and wanting to reprimand you for your behavior. You should have let them know, told them you were done and wanted to go home. They would have walked you, protected you, taken care of you.

He milled his teeth to control himself. He couldn’t assume, he didn’t know what caused you to leave. Hell, maybe you hadn’t gone at all, and you all merely missed each other at the party?

Suguru was the first one to make it to your door, knuckles rapping against the wood.

Satoru was panting behind him, alternating his weight between his feet, ready to book it back to the park if he had to.

There was silence on the other end, then, very faintly, they heard rustling.

Movement from inside, confirming you were here. Now, to answer the remaining questions.

They were prepared to interrogate you, but all those words died on the backs of their tongues, tasting of ash and soot, when the door peeled open.

Oh.

Red rimmed your eyes, your cheeks still damp after you tried to hastily wipe them dry, your brows wound tightly together. Confusion flickered across your features first, tailed by embarrassment.

Something did happen to you.

You had been crying.

“Angel?” Suguru stepped forth and cupped your jaw gently, thumbing away at your tearstained skin. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Instead of leaning into his touch like you so yearned to, you forced yourself to pull back, giving a painfully fake laugh. Your voice was fraught, a little raspy, wet. “Nothing happened. Everything is fine, why do you think something happened?”

“You’re bad at lying, mochi,” Satoru refused to let you dodge the topic. “What happened? Who do we need to beat up for making you cry?”

“Gu-uys,” you hiccuped and tried to turn away further, to recede deeper into your house. “Seriously, I’m fine–”

“You’re not fine,” Suguru grasped your upper arm and pulled you towards him. “What happened?”

Your eyes flickered between his, then Satoru’s, words stuck to your palate. How easy it would be to say I wish you’d look at me and not those girls.

I want you.

I need you.

How easy it would be to just spill your heart and soul out onto the floor, say the things you wanted to tell them, but knew you couldn’t.

I love you. Both of you.

If you told them, you'd ruin everything. And then you'd have to run.

Again.

All you knew was how to run.

You didn't know how far you would make it if you lost everything you had created, grown, and made here, with them.

You squeezed your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palms to brace yourself. Focus on the pain. “I just don’t…really know anyone from the party. Not personally, anyway, so…I didn’t wanna be the odd duck out, you know?” Lie. A terrible lie, and everyone present knew it. You pushed on regardless. “Haha…would be kinda weird for the new girl to hang out at this wedding when nobody knows her. I-I was feeling a bit tired, too.”

You were aware that you were rambling, but you couldn’t stop it naturally. You opened your mouth, and it was hard to close it again.

You'd been living here for a year. It was a poor cover up at best. While it was true you didn’t know a good amount of folks on a level further than acquaintances, it's not like you were a complete stranger to these backwoods. And there were people you knew well enough to consider friends besides Gojo and Geto.

Satoru’s frown grew, but he decided against pointing out your fallacy. “But, we know you, mochi. Why didn’t you come back to us? We were waiting for you.”

“Oh,” you broke eye contact, peering elsewhere, anywhere but them. Your fingers trembled as you tucked your hair behind your ear, trying to shove out the discomfort in your chest at the reminder. The scene played in your mind all over again, of the boys talking to those girls, smiling at them, laughing with them.

You had to make yourself believe it was something else causing your ribs to cave in on your lungs.

It wasn’t jealousy. Really, it wasn’t.

But…if it wasn’t jealousy, then why did you feel sick to your stomach when you witnessed one of the girls, who was prettier than you, grasp Satoru’s collar and pull him down to whisper things in his ear? Why did he smile like that afterwards? Like he liked what he heard? Like he liked her? What did she say? Why–

You swallowed thickly, the sensation dry as it scratched down your gullet like nails on sandpaper. Your throat was too crammed, too tense, too itchy. It took all your strength to speak normally, and even then, you weren’t sure you succeeded.

“You guys were busy,” you finally replied.

“Busy?” Suguru repeated, his inflection powder soft, his eyes softer.

Don’t, you pleaded silently. Don’t talk to me like that. Don’t stare at me like that.

If you knew what that does to me.

If you knew what you both do to me.

You nodded and plastered on a faux simper, one that twitched at the corners of your lips and didn’t reach your eyes. “You had a whole flock of girls around you. Who am I t-to take the attention of the two most eligible bachelors away from them?”

Damn you for stuttering, and damn your voice for growing uneven, and damn you for being a mess. Weak, pitiful. Since when were you so mellow, such a pussy?

The boys had the audacity to let their faces morph to show their confusion, as if trying to recollect what you were talking about.

Suguru was the first to piece together what happened, if the way his eyes widened minutely was anything to go by, but Satoru spoke before he could. And more bluntly, too, of course. “Oh, sweetie,” he hushed, tension dropping from him as a grin drew up his mouth. “You’re jealous.”

You startled and lifted your hands to deny his accusation. “N-No! What? Haha, th-that’s– no, it’s not like th-at at all!”

He put on a smug mien as he crossed his arms over his chest, acting like he just figured you out.

He did, technically, but you didn’t want to give him that victory. Especially not over such a benign and childish matter as this.

“Angel,” the noiret allayed himself, delicately cupping your cheek to nudge your head in his direction. “Is that what’s going on? Were you jealous of those girls?”

Your jaw flexed. God, it sounded pathetic. Jealous over a group of gorgeous women who had more to offer than you? It’s not like either boy was interested in you romantically anyway, and you weren’t dating one or the other. You had no reason to be jealous, you weren’t owed anything.

It wasn’t fair for you to expose such petty problems to them, let alone blame them for it. They may have had your heart, but you didn’t have theirs.

Yet, your lip wobbled, your lungs refused to work properly, and your eyes welled up, anyway. Biting the inside of your cheek raw wasn’t fending off your emotions, not anymore, and you couldn’t dislodge the frog from your throat long enough to talk.

The worry in Suguru’s expression melted away, replaced with understanding and something else you couldn’t decipher. His fingers shifted from holding your cheek to curling over the back of your neck while his other hand coiled around your waist, bringing you close to him. His forehead pressed against yours and his breath fanned across your cheeks, slow and measured.

“You have nothing to be jealous about,” he reassured you with a sympathetic murmur.

The tears fell before you had a chance to stop them. It could have been the wine you drank earlier, or the overstimulation from the party.

Or, it was the way they held the glass fledgling budding in the nest of your soul carefully in their hands. They had cracked the shell casing it had, the one that protected you from making attachments. They pushed the gates wide for everyone, all the close friends you made in this village sneaking into your life without you noticing, and the boys were at the front, leading the pack.

“I’m s-so-sorry,” you stammered out, sucking uneven gasps of air past your bottom lip. Your arms wound tightly around his neck and you buried your face against his shoulder, muffling your sniffling. “It’s– it’s stupid, so stupid. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, angel. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he comforted you, rubbing your back in easy circles.

Satoru came to your side, sweeping your hair away from your neck. “You really don’t need to be jealous. We’re not interested in any of them.”

“We don’t want any of those girls,” Suguru’s deep voice rumbled against your chest. “We want you.”

Your heart stopped, broke, started, and sprouted new petals at his confession. It bounced in your head, struggling to stick, to process, to be true.

“B-But they’re–” sob, “s-so…much more. They’d do– do any-thing f-for you – hic! – you.”

“And you?” Suguru checked, his voice barely a whisper as it brushed against your neck. “Would you do anything for us?”

His question stunned you. You froze, your thoughts hovering, struggling to focus when they both were close and warm. Your head lifted slowly, eyesight blurry as your gaze flickered between them.

The Sun and Moon incarnate.

What a stupid question.

You worshiped them and the ground they walked on, a devout and zealous follower. You’d listen to everything they told you with reverence; you'd pray for them day and night, you’d water the soil with your own blood if they asked.

“...Yes,” you breathed out, finding balance while adrift at sea, a moment of peace in the cyclone of your emotions. “Anything.”

Satoru huffed near your ear and you could feel the curve of his smile where he pressed it into your jaw. “The difference between you and those girls, mochi…”

“Is that, for you, we'd scorch the earth and rend the sky without hesitation, should you ever wish it,” raven hair tickled your shoulder, plush lips hovering on the slope of your neck, brushing over your vulnerable, sensitive pulse.

“For those girls, we would do nothing. Even if they begged on their knees, we'll only ever accept your commands,” ocean-kissed eyes filled your vision, shimmering with raw, unfiltered emotion; something warm, and blazing, calling you like a moth to blue flame.

You shuddered at the vibration from Suguru’s murmurs traveling through your body. “All you have to do is say yes.”

Laying somewhere within the turmoil in your chest, your soul fluttered, yearning, hoping. “You want me?”

“We do,” they replied simultaneously.

“Both of you?”

“Both of us.”

Their resolute answer felt so unreal, so deafening in the fog of your scattered thoughts. Your fingers reached, but hesitated just before they made contact with what you so desired – as if waiting for it to be ripped away. “...Really?”

“Really,” the man holding you in his grasp confirmed, admiring you with such fondness and devotion, you’d think he was seeing a goddess, rather than the simple girl you were. He was pleading more than demanding. “Say yes.”

“Please, princess,” Satoru acted equally as desperate, and it struck you that you’d never heard him say please before, not like this.

You didn’t have to think before you answered.

“Yes.”

Suguru’s lips were on yours as the syllables were leaving you, drawing a surprised squeak from you, followed by a reedy whimper.

There was a distinct snap in your chest, the click of an unbreakable bond emerging. It made your breath hitch and your body tense up, then you melted into him, and everything felt right.

His lips were cushiony and generous, everything you’d ever dreamed of and more. They fit so perfectly against yours, the sides of two puzzle pieces slotting into place. His kiss was gentle, slow, and intimate.

You barely had a chance to delve into it by the time the other boy was tugging you away for his turn.

He was more demanding, rougher, yet entirely wonderful all the same, just like Geto. He connected to you seamlessly, aggressively, contrary to Suguru's tenderness, in a way that had your toes curling and heat pooling in the depths of your gut.

This.

This is what you had been missing all your life.

The safety and sanctity that came with surrendering to a love pure and true.

Hands were on you, everywhere, at all once. You didn’t know which belonged to who; it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered save for the way they caressed you and explored everything, leaving no inch untouched.

Calloused palms slid under the hem of your – Suguru’s – shirt, palming at naked flesh, taking what was no longer yours, but theirs.

Satoru bit at your bottom lip, hard enough to sting, but not enough to break skin, in spite of how you wanted him to. His hunger was obvious, his inability to sate himself with the taste of your mouth alone showing in the way he suckled on your tongue and ventured behind your teeth. The sentiment was mutual. You drank him in with the same fervor, needing more to settle the hollow in your stomach.

A hint of the cake shared at the wedding lingered on him, sweet and rich and exactly like the boy you’d come to love.

Love.

You loved him. You loved Suguru.

And they…they loved you, too, didn’t they?

The way Geto dug his canines into your collarbone and soothed the pricks with chaste kisses, the way Gojo moaned into your kiss like you were his oasis after years of thirst; the way the second gripped his hips with his nails, and the way the first traced the undersides of your breasts with his thumbs, all these actions led you to believe that, yes, they loved you. Beyond words, beyond what could be said and shown.

You were growing dizzy, heady with lust and the lack of air. Satoru must have noticed, as he pulled away a few centimeters, breathing each other’s air.

“What do you want, pretty girl?” He asked.

“Touch me,” you pleaded with them breathlessly.

“Shit,” Suguru groaned into the delicate flesh of your shoulder. “You can't just say something like that while wearing my shirt.”

Any quip you might have had was swiftly replaced with a squeal of surprise when Satoru hoisted you up over his shoulder casually, not breaking so much as a sweat from the effort.

“Satoru!” You squeaked, smacking his back. “I can walk, you know!”

“I can’t wait any longer,” he justified as he kicked off his shoes haphazardly and carried you off to your room.

You were tossed unceremoniously onto your bed, bouncing a couple times as you propped yourself on your elbows. From your spot on your sheets, you had the perfect view of Satoru tugging at the bow on his collar to untie it. He let the ends hang loose in favor of ardently shedding his jacket.

Suguru wasn’t far behind, and in the darkness of your room, their eyes seemed to glow dangerously.

Laser focused on you, you were trapped in their spell, and you’d never wish to break free.

Geto stalked up to you, steps deliberate and resolute, a leopard locked in on its prey. He came to a stop at the edge of your bed, planting his hands on either side of your hips. Starvation ate at the amber of his hues, black holes leaving a ring of gold between the photon spheres and event horizons.

You batted your lashes flirtatiously. “You’ll be gentle with me, won’t you?”

You sounded less coquettish than you would have liked, dyspneic and blistering hot with appetency and anticipation.

He chuckled, gruff and strained. “After all this time, I finally get to have you, and you think I’m going to be gentle with you?”

“Oh, you’re in for it now, princess,” Gojo breathed against your ear, startling you. You hadn’t noticed when he’d gotten behind you, his body heat radiating onto you. “Kept us waiting, made us chase you, there’s no way in hell we’ll be gentle with you.”

“Kept you waiting?” Confusion flashed across your face.

He huffed. “And here I thought I was dense as hell.”

You scowled at him. “Hey! What is that supposed to mean?”

Suguru grasped your chin between his thumb and the curve of his index, fixing your sights on him. “We thought you were being coy at first. Then, after you didn’t pick up on our hints, we thought we were being too subtle,” he angled your head upwards, lips ghosting over your own. “Turns out, our sweet angel is a little oblivious, isn’t she?”

He didn’t give you the opportunity to defend yourself as he was kissing you deep and hard again, stealing your breath away all over again.

It’s not like he was wrong, but you had to counter his argument.

Except, oh, he tasted so good, and the way his palms skirted your sides erased your thoughts one by one.

An unintentional whimper slipped past from your mouth and into Suguru’s as his hand slipped under your shirt – his shirt – and trailed up your side slowly. His skin scorched yours, burning so deliciously that it sent a shiver from the base of your spine up to your scalp, raising goosebumps across your arms and back.

You could feel him smirking as he kissed you, fervent fingers studying the dips and curves of your figure as they traveled up slowly, too slowly, towards where you wanted him to be. He seemed all too entertained by your reactions, the little noises you let out when he skimmed the underside of your breast, purposefully taking his time.

The moment he broke the kiss to catch a breath, barely parting, his lips still grazing yours, you keened and pleaded, not wholly sure what you were asking for. “Please, please…”

“Please, what? Use your words, mochi,” Satoru snickered, his mouth leaving a new patch of wet, saliva-slicked skin on your shoulder that rapidly cooled over the sensitive bruises blooming everywhere he planted them. ”What do you want, pretty girl?”

A whine was trapped behind your tongue as Suguru nipped at your lower lip, tugging gently, encouraging you to speak. “Fuck– fuck me, gods, please.”

“Good girl,” the ravenet grinned and immediately rewarded you by cupping your breast, pinching your nipple between his ring and middle fingers. He tweaked and plucked at it, drawing a gasp from you. “All you had to do was ask.”

Everything became a blur of flesh and clothes from there. Pants were shucked, buttons popped and scattered elsewhere from shirts ripped apart, fabric stripped from your figure until all three of you were naked in the presence of one another.

Moonlight poured into your room through your parted, sheer curtains, providing the perfect amount of illumination to see their Olypmian builds. Lean muscle molded them, impossibly strong and handsome. You understood how Satoru was able to lift you without an issue, now.

Suguru was marginally wider – shoulders broader, thighs thicker, but Satoru was the epitome of a god amongst men. Slender, athletic, ripped, mouthwatering.

You trailed down the path his Apollo’s belt created, appreciating the planes and hard ridges of his chest and stomach, the muscles of his hips, leading to…

Saliva flooded your mouth from the underside of your tongue, stinging as you took in the sight of his cock.

You debated if you were blessed or cursed, because there was no way in hell that thing was going to fit in you.

It stood tall and proud, just like its master. Swelled, curving upwards, the prettiest shade of rose that looked pale pink in the light the moon provided. A thick vein tracked from the base to the left side, and you had to forcefully swallow the spit in your mouth before you started legitimately drooling.

It was long, you were certain it’d knock the air from your lungs if he managed to get it in.

He was on you in seconds, crawling over you and biting into your shoulder to leave his crest. He sucked hard, making sure his claim would bloom into a noticeable flower for you to wear and show off. “You’re beautiful.”

His praise went straight to your drenched pussy, your walls tightening around nothing.

The baritone of Suguru’s words filled the room, an instruction raised. “On the bed, Satoru.”

If you hadn’t seen it firsthand, you would have refused to believe there was ever a time Satoru would willingly follow someone else’s directions, let alone Suguru’s. In front of your eyes, he behaved, rolling off your body to splay himself out on his back, aquamarine orbs never once leaving your figure.

The next directive was given to you. “Sit on his face, baby,” Suguru said, his inflection warning you to listen, daring you to defy him.

You, the obedient hare you were, followed his command without protest. You sat up next to Satoru, threw one leg over him, then slinked up to his face, where he laid and followed your every move, eyes of ice devoured by the impossibly dark lacunae in their centers.

You thought being over him would give you some level of control – how poorly mistaken were you.

As soon as your knees were on either side of his head, his arms wrapped around the backs of your thighs and he pulled you down faster than you could register his movements. He moved at lightning speed, wasting no time in shoving his tongue impatiently against your slicked folds and dragging it through.

His groan echoed your loud, unexpected moan, both of you wracked with sudden pleasure – him, at your taste, and you, at the addicting sensation of him lapping at your cunt like a man deprived of oxygen. Ironic, given the way he was all but begging for you to suffocate him, but you didn’t have the capacity to muse on it.

Electricity ricocheted up your spine, your synapses firing in overtime as he assaulted the hypersensitive nerves of your clit, sucking on it unforgivingly.

“S-Satoru!” You stammered out his name, one hand gripping the edge of your bed, the other tangling in his white, fluffy locks, tugging at his roots in a painful manner, no doubt. The devious keen he let out from the action told you he enjoyed it immensely, the muffled vibrations on your pussy making you clench around the tip of his tongue as it impatiently invaded your hole.

Suguru’s dusky, chocolate shades stayed glued to your form as you unraveled thread by thread from Satoru’s skilled tongue alone, his lips pulled into a dangerous smirk. “Open your mouth,” he rasped.

Your jaw dropped before he even finished his sentence.

You could see the unmitigated ardor flash in his pupils at your unquestioning submission, his cock twitching with the glee of knowing that he did this to you; that he and Gojo turned you into their brain dead beauty, eager and willing to please them however they wished.

His adoration for you was written plain across his face, mouth pouting at your adorableness. Oh, how he couldn’t wait to ruin you. He wanted to see tears glitter in your eyes from overwhelming euphoria, just so he could kiss them away and dote on you like it was the last night you’d all be alive.

Given the opportunity to inspect his manhood, you compared and contrasted it with Satoru’s. While Suguru’s was marginally shorter, it was thick, girthy, and ready to split you apart.

He perched the heavy peak of it on the pink muscle in your mouth that was dying for a sample, eager to guide it in and let it choke you half to death.

“Suck.”

He didn’t need to tell you what to do – the moment his sex was there, you wrapped your kiss-bruised lips around his tip and moved your head to take more of him into your awaiting maw.

Your power over the sounds daring to leave you had left eons ago. You whined like a bitch in heat around his length, the mildly salty and musky flavor of his pre-cum driving you mad. His piquancy tickled some deep-seeded hunger in you, a drop of liquor better than any alcohol ever made. It worsened your thirst, spawning a sine qua non for his cum to quench your thirst.

His large hand threaded through your hair, smoothing down the stray strands as he cupped the back of your head with his palm. His hold was deceptively lenient and respectful, a guiding kneading that set the pace he wanted you to adopt.

“That’s it, good girl,” he said hoarsely, laboring to preserve his composure and not drive his hips to bury his oversized dick deep into your pharynx until he bottomed out, your nose pressed to his pelvis. Not now, not yet. First, he was going to enjoy your suckling and demure kitten licks. “Doing so well for us.”

His validation worsened your arousal, turning that pulsing, throbbing pressure into a borderline painful cramping.

Fuck, you were past salvation.

God help anyone who tried to save you, because you would not let them.

You yanked on Satoru’s hair harder, gripping at the roots for dear life, and grabbed Suguru’s thigh with your other hand. The muscles beneath jumped at the contact, and you groaned. The vibrations from your throat on his cock earned you a whispered grunt from him in turn.

It didn’t seem true, you were still struggling to believe that you had one of them, let alone both.

Touching helped, solidifying the fact that they were there, with you, one eating you out like his life depended on it, while the second was putting your mouth to good use.

Tears sprung to your eyes as the head of his cock nudged deeper, but unlike before, these tears were of delight. You thrived on watching Suguru lose his sangfroid by the minute, sand slipping through his fingers that were going lax with disinterest in holding back.

If you learned they had a telepathic connection with each other, you didn’t think you’d be shocked. In fluid, synchronized movements, Suguru cupped the base of your skull to thrust hilt-deep into your mouth, and Satoru stuffed two fingers into your dripping pussy, pushing you right up to the edge of blissful collapse. His digits were long, wide, bigger than yours and capable of reaching further, of petting a spot that had you choking and gagging on the branch stuck down your esophagus.

He nipped at your clit, teeth straying too close to danger, curled his fingers to attack your g-spot, and that’s all it took for you to burst.

Your orgasm ripped through you in waves, crashing on the beach of your consciousness, addicting as it drowned you in white-hot rapture.

Suguru’s climax was set off by your muffled moaning, ropes of his cum pumping into your mouth and down your throat. You did your best to swallow every drop, mindlessly lapping it up each time his hardness stirred and twitched.

Slowly, he pulled back and allowed you to gasp and catch your breath, his length continuing to throb despite you having sucked the soul out of him.

He aided you in sliding off of Satoru and positioned you on the headboard of the bed, cooing at you for being such a good girl for them.

Satoru pounced on you, too antsy to let you rest. He smashed his mouth onto yours, tongue delving past your parted lips. You could taste yourself on him, in the way he rubbed his tongue on yours, sharing the flavor of your slick; mildly acidic, with a hint of salt and something almost bitter, but not quite.

Tang, the word hit you.

Big hands worked to hike your legs up, hooking them around that svelte waist of his, handsy and groping. The tip of his dick prodded against your fluttering, tender folds, causing you to attempt to retreat from the stimulus.

Keyword: attempt.

He latched his palms onto your waist, preventing you from running away. He huffed, voice husky from gulping down your juices. “Where do you think you’re going, pretty?”

“I’m s-sensitive!” You whined pitifully, fingers raking into his forearms, uncertain if you were trying to shove him away or drag him closer.

“Oh, baby, I know,” he purred with false condolence. “But, you can take it, can’t you? Be a good girl for me?”

Any of your pleas fell on deaf ears, your begging faltering as he notched the tip against your entrance and began pushing in, determined to fuck you dumb.

You hadn’t known it was possible to feel this full until he was bullying his length into you, inch by merciless inch, deeper, deeper.

“Fuck,” he heaved, struggling to maintain control. “You’re so fuckin’ tight.”

You were trying to stay relaxed, to let him carve a spot for himself inside of you, but that fucked out look on his face and his whiny tone had you squeezing unintentionally. He grunted and paused, air whistling through his teeth.

“Don’t do that,” he hissed in warning.

Swallowing thickly, you whimpered, jabbing your sticky palms against his hips. “Too big!”

Suguru swept your hair from your forehead. “You’re taking it so well, though, angel,” he soothed, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Come on, you can take the rest.”

“The rest?” Your eyes widened. “There’s more–!?”

You cried out when Satoru gave you one last lunge to hilt himself fully within you, hips flush to yours, symphysis knocking against your tingling clit.

Heavens above, you swore he was buried up to your diaphragm.

He pried one hand from his hip, exposing the tiny ovals that would undoubtedly fade to bruises come morning, and brought it down to the apex of your thighs. He withdrew an inch at most, unwilling to part further, and guided it down between your thighs. He pressed it against your cunt, spreading your ring and middle fingers apart to slip the base of his cock between them.

“Feel me?” He growled against your cheek, imploring you to observe how you were connected directly.

You clenched around him with a whimper at the sensation, causing him to jerk forward involuntarily, then let out a gruff laugh against the junction of your neck.

“Get to it,” Suguru frowned, restlessness showing through his typically unruffled exterior.

Satoru sneered at him. “Give me a damn minute, I’m gonna cum way too fast if you rush me.”

Leave it to his best friend to taunt him in the middle of sex of all things. “What are you, a highschool boy?”

“She’s got my dick in a chokehold, man,” he spat.

He retracted halfway and sheathed himself again experimentally, testing the waters, and he was rewarded with a moan bubbling free from you.

Hunger flashed in his beautiful, eternal blues, a ravenous desire to hear more of the sweet noises you could give him, and you knew you were in trouble.

All hesitance flew out the window for him.

Any way to describe how glorious it felt to have his cock pounding into you disappeared from your vocabulary, abandoning you with only the ability to let out a petite ah! ah! ah! each time he vanished into you and his tip bumped against your cervix.

Suguru wasn’t content to have you experiencing only one form of stimulation. Set on making you lose your mind, the rough pads of his thumbs rubbed over your pebbled nipples, the contact steering you into arching your back. You weren’t sure if you were trying to push into his touch, or escape it, your body too overwhelmed to decipher your own intentions.

Satoru was mumbling praises to you, nibbling on your jaw and the slope of your shoulder, printing his claim anywhere he could. It went in one ear and out the other, your consciousness torn between the boys as they took you apart and put you back together to fit the mold they created for you.

A pinch and flick to your nipples had you belling in bliss.

Your vision was foggy with tears, blurring the lines between night and light, sky and earth, whose mouth was on you, whose hands were compressing your flesh until it spilled between their fingers. Whether it was Gojo suckling on your breast, or Geto rubbing your clit in rapid, honed circles, you didn’t know and didn’t care so long as it never stopped.

The peak of your second climax was approaching too soon, too fast. You yourself got only a wisp of a warning of its arrival, let alone a chance to warn the boys.

“Gonna– ah! ‘M gonna–!”

Satoru groaned. “Fuck, me too.”

“Say it,” Suguru goaded you on. “What do you want?”

You lugged in a shaky breath. “Wanna cum! Please, I– ngh!”

His lips grazed your cheek. “Cum.”

The strained wire inside the burning heat of your belly gave way to a rush of ecstasy, releasing in the form of a burst of clear spray onto Satoru’s lower stomach. A bell rang in your ears, pitchy and sonorous as you jerked and shook from the pleasure.

That set his orgasm off, his hips stilling flat against yours. Syrupy streams of his cum painted your walls pearly white, never-ending as he kept cumming, and cumming, and cumming.

You were both panting, struggling for air, when it finally stopped. He pulled out languidly, hissing as his soaked cock was exposed to the air. His eyes were welded to your pussy – specifically, the thin rivulet of ivory that leaked out. Unthinkingly, he scooped it up with two fingers and tamped it back into you, enamored by your bleat of objection.

“I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard in my life,” he confessed, sitting back on his heels and running a hand through his hair. “I get the sense that the feeling is mutual, eh?”

Geto kissed the corner of your mouth, kneading your sore chest. “You made quite the mess.”

You blushed and hid your face against your pillow. “Sorry.”

“No, that was hot as hell. Shoulda told me you squirt,” Gojo laughed, voice rough at the edges.

“I didn’t know I could,” you muttered.

He shuddered. “Fuck, you’re so bad for my ego, princess.”

You grumbled, squinting at him. Of course, he would find ways to boost his ego. You didn’t have it in you to mock him, feeling spent.

Oh, but they had other plans for you.

Your world spun as arms hooked under your body, picking you up and repositioning you.

Suguru lifted you onto his lap, setting your hands onto his pecs to keep you balanced. He placed open-mouthed kisses on the hickeys budding on your neck and collar as he pressed on your lower back to make you lean into him and subconsciously raise your hips. You were too hazy to pay any heed to what he was doing until he had the fat tip of his length poking at your entrance, seeking passage.

You jolted back to peer at him with panicked eyes. “Wait, no, not ready,” you shook your head. “‘M too sensitive.”

“C’mon, angel,” he comforted you by squeezing the outside of your thigh. “I know you can do it.”

You couldn’t argue back, your jaw busy hanging as he steered your hips down. Though you had been stretched by Satoru and were immensely slippery with a mix of his cum and your slick, there was still a hint of resistance. You held your breath, trembling as he pushed harder, urged you lower.

The head popped in, and you sank down several inches with a stilted gasp and drawn-out keen.

He inhaled sharply, burrowing his nose into the hollow of your neck, his grip on your hips crushing as he kept you in place. You were reeling from being able to take him to begin with, shaking from head to toe at the delicious sting of the stretch.

“Fuck,” he growled, poise dropping.

“So big,” you exhaled, speech staggered.

Gradually, he eased you onto him, letting you feel him in full. You clutched him like he was your lifeline because, honestly, he was.

You were too focused on not splitting apart to notice the second man in the room kneeling behind you until he broke your concentration by swiping slick from your cunt and pressing the tip of his middle finger against the tight ring of your other hole.

You yelped and whipped your head to the side, staring at Satoru from over your shoulder. “What–”

“Shh,” he nuzzled your temple, trying to distract you. “Just sit there and let us take care of you.”

To your relief, he went slow, letting you get accustomed to the sensation of one of his fingers prodding and toying with your hole. Your tenseness being replaced by breathy keens was his cue to coax a second one beside the first, the two pumping and scissoring apart. A third joined them soon, working you open unhurriedly.

Once he was satisfied, he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his cock, stroking it a few times to smear your arousal onto it.

He positioned himself, one hand clasping your waist to keep you motionless, as if the secure snare Suguru held your hips in wasn’t enough.

“Deep breath for me, pretty,” Satoru requested.

You complied. Heeding his warning, you took a deep, measured breath.

At the same time, he pushed into you, persuading you to let him in with consistent pressure.

A protest crept its way up your voice box, coming out as reedy fussing. “W-Won’t fit,” you croaked.

“It will,” he asserted. “You can take it.”

He abated for a second, and you loosened – then, he thrust upwards suddenly.

“Ah!” You cried out, eyes squeezed shut as tight as possible. Your nails dug into Suguru’s shoulders, deep enough to etch crescents into them, but he only crooned and rubbed his thumbs under your ribs to soothe you.

“You’re doing so well for us, angel,” he murmured to you, pressing tiny kisses to each corner of your mouth. “Taking us so well.”

They both grunted when you clenched down at the revere and Satoru placed his forehead against the curve of your trapezius. His hands held your sides tightly, fingertips no doubt leaving bruises in their wake.

He was buried only midway inside you, and already, he was at his wit’s end. You all were, to be fair.

“Need you to relax, bunny,” he mumbled, nipping at your nape. “Need to feel you. Be inside you.”

Suguru was holding up the best out of the three of you, murmuring sweet nothings to you, stroking your stomach, gently massaging your breasts, anything to get you to ease up and melt into them. He was already bottomed out in your cunt, so deep inside you, you swore you could feel him behind your navel.

Satoru waited for you to unwind, edging into you whenever you allowed it, sinking in more and more until he was finally seated to the base.

All three of you let out weighty sighs, pleased he was able to wrestle his way in.

Nothing could ever come close to the sensation of being crowded and stuffed to the absolute brim like this. You could distinctly feel their cocks rubbing against one another through the thin wall separating your cunt and ass, their heartbeats racing. You were filled beyond capacity, it was a boon Satoru was able to fit himself next to Suguru.

“Good girl,” the noiret beamed at you, smoothing his thumbs over your aching nipples. “Fuck, such a good girl for us, aren’t you?”

“Knew you could do it,” the towhead rubbed his cheek against yours. “You feel so good, baby.”

Satoru moved first, drawing back ‘til the tip remained, then shoved back in. You keened, your head falling back to rest on his collarbone. He took his time setting a comfortable pace, after which Suguru started moving. He guided your hips to grind on his, his motions opposite to Gojo’s. When one was in, the other was out, back and forth, ensuring you were never empty at any given moment.

A rhythm built up, a melody of harmonized moans and cries and filthy promises bouncing off the walls of your room. The three of you became one, a flowing machine, all parts operating together to create a rhapsody of names and skin-on-skin.

They were everywhere, all at once. There wasn’t a spot anywhere on you they hadn’t touched, a location they hadn’t fanned their palms over, a zone they hadn’t marked, a piece they hadn’t claimed.

Inside and out, if they could reach it, it was theirs. Body, heart, mind, and soul, you were theirs, and they were yours. They assured you of such, telling you how they pined for you, how you had them wrapped around your little finger.

“Loved you from the day I laid eyes on you, princess,” Satoru said, gravelly. “I’m– shit– I’m f-fuckin’ crazy for you.”

“Toru!”

“Yeaaah, say my name,” he implored you.

You hiccuped. “S-Satoru!”

He groaned, deep and from the soul. “Fuck, I love you so much, pretty girl.”

“Love yo-ou,” you stuttered, laboring to put more than two words together.

Suguru cupped your jaw. “And me?”

“Love you, S-Sugu,” you promised.

He gifted you that smile that you adored more than you could convey, your spirit overjoyed. “My precious angel. I love you, too.”

You didn’t know how he was acting so put-together in the middle of fucking your brains out. Sweat clung to his forehead, his defined neck, and the contours of his torso, droplets trailing down and sticking his hair to his skin.

By comparison, you were a wreck of incoherent babbling and firing synapses, strewn between them as they ravaged your body. Their syncopated tempo wouldn’t grant you a brief pause to anchor yourself, completely at the hands of their mercy. Their sizes caused them to push firmly into any and every sweet spot you had, blinding you with a euphoria unlike any other.

Either because he was amused by your struggle, or because he was a bit sadistic, Suguru planted his heels onto your bed and rammed into you.

Your vision flickered, cognizance short-circuited from the abrupt burst of pleasure. It forced you directly to the height of your elation, teetering precariously on the summit, ready to dive off it.

“Nngh!” You mewled, brows furrowed, body wound tight. A taut bowstring, waiting to be released.

“Go on, mochi,” Satoru grunted when you clenched down on them. “Cum for us.”

“I-I can't!” You sobbed. “I– I need–”

“I've got you, love,” Suguru huffed. You bucked when the pad of his thumb pressed against your sensitive, febrile clit.

He circled it roughly in pace with their thrusts once, twice, and you shattered.

Your muscles locked up, throat pinched shut as a shot of pure, electric nirvana in its rawest form rolled in your tummy, then exploded outwards. It filled your limbs, fogged your mind, darkened your sight, flooding your entire being until you knew nothing but such divine euphoria.

You couldn't register your own blissful cry, or if you had cried at all, too lost in your senses to hear both men trilling and fawning over you while struggling to keep rhythm and control when you squeezed and milked them so well.

In the darkness behind your eyes, where their light had yet to touch, you witnessed something beyond the bounds of your mortal comprehension.

You heralded the heat death of the universe. You saw every speck of cosmic brilliance either smolder out until it lived no longer, or detonate in the grandest scenes you never believed you could be present for. Dust, fire, and energy burst throughout the swiftly collapsing ether, until all that was left were the abyssal, all-devouring voids that struggled to survive with the last of the matter they had shorn from clusters of galaxies and the stars they eventually dragged into their bottomless weasands.

When they, too, died, there was nothing. Silence, stygian darkness, not a soul nor being to be found.

Then, it all compressed. The petals of the universe themselves tucked inwards, folded over and over, packed down into a tiny dot, a speck more than anything else, where all matter was serried and reunited as one. It shrank and shrank, growing heavier, denser, hotter by the second.

You alone were the sole seer to the birth of the firmament.

You were there to descry in all glory how the heavens came to be, how the stars sparked to life, weak at first as they formed, fell, and formed again, repeating the cycle until the colossal entities became gods in their own rights. You bore the heavy weight of being testimony to the truth greater than anyone could ever picture.

You saw the coruscating fireworks of resplendent celestial bodies as they caved in on themselves, then went out with a final, grand eruption of phosphorescence. You beheld how some brought the next generation of stars, while others crumpled under the overpowering vise of the freezing vacuum of space, creating monstrosities that knew only how to consume and exist as the brightest, most refulgent beings.

And then, as the universe retreated from your perception, there was only them.

Only Satoru and Suguru, as they grit their teeth and held your hips and waist with enough pressure to ache deep in your bones, their sweaty forms halted against your own. Sweltering, liquid fire poured into your core, their cocks pulsing within your snug walls as you drained them for all they were worth and more.

Time ceased to exist immemorial. The three of you wound down, breathing each other in, simply being. Once lecherous hands glided up and down your sweat-slicked figure, unhurried now that you’d all reached the promised land together.

They were patient, giving you time to return to yourself. Soft-spoken vows and encomia, gentle petting, bringing you down from your astronomical high.

Gojo crooked his arms under your thighs, hoisting you up off of Geto’s lap. The action caused both of them to slip out of you, making you wince and whimper.

He hushed you sweetly as he set you on your side, nestling against your back with his arms looped around your waist, keeping you close. Suguru laid down in front of you, dotting kisses along your hairline, cheeks, nose, and one right on your lips.

“What brought it on?” Suguru spoke in low tones, and you felt his voice more than heard it.

“Mm?” You hummed, sleepy and confused.

“Why’d you leave the wedding?” He clarified.

You blushed, embarrassed at the reminder, now that you knew how they felt about you. “Ah, well…I, um…” You cleared your throat uncomfortably. “I saw you smile at another girl and it kinda…set me off, I guess.”

He frowned. “Smile?”

You tilted your head to hide your face, regardless of the darkness in your room. “The one that kissed your cheek.”

Satoru snorted harshly. “Oh, my god, that wasn’t a smile.”

“It wasn’t?” You blinked.

He cackled. “Hell no. I thought he was gonna blow a fuse. He looked like he’d been dropped in a vat of sap or something. Livid, I’m telling you.”

“I refrained,” Suguru insisted.

“You almost broke your teeth,” the other boy refuted.

He clicked his tongue. “It was uncomfortable. Besides, I don’t want any woman near me that isn’t our angel.”

The baby bird residing within you fluttered its wings at his words. Our. You were theirs just as they were yours.

In the afterglow of your lovemaking, as the two got comfy with you, snuggled up with you in the middle, you let your mind drift. Thoughts you fought against since the day you moved here were given the spotlight, allowed to say their pieces without you shoving them into the box under your bed.

You’ve always likened yourself to a kite.

Where once you considered yourself faded, washed out, and forever at risk of being bound to the ground, you realized something important.

As your fingers carded through Suguru’s soft, damp hair, and Satoru formed small circles under your ribs with his thumb, you noticed that the achromatic world you had lived in had been doused with color. It took you a while to see it, to fully process that the longer you stayed in this little village, the more vibrant the watercolor paints became, but they were there now, and you’d never be able to draw your eyes away from them.

Like a kite, you yearned to be free; to feel the wind under your wings and the sun on your back. You always blamed the rope that connected you to the ground for keeping that freedom away from you. It had you locked in a gilded cage, so you trimmed it further and further until you were just a kite, without any strings, without any connections to anyone or anything.

Without a home.

Upon reflection, you acknowledged that it didn’t make you free – it made you lost.

You had been lost for so long.

Then, you found them; the boys that wrapped your body in countless arms and legs, never any real beginning or end between you and them. You found these friends you made, and they all tied differently colored threads around your bamboo bones.

You let them.

You were scared when you fell, when the wind stopped blowing and you were torn from the skies, unable to follow the gales, you’d splinter beyond repair.

But, they caught you – Satoru and Suguru, together, as one.

And it clicked in your head the moment they said they wanted you, the same way you wanted them.

Being bound didn’t mean you were chained. Being tethered to them meant you could glide and soar in the sky without the fear of ever getting misled again, and the strings would guide you home when the gentle gusts calmed or the whipping tempests grew too angry.

You thought, ages ago, that you’d never be okay with being fettered to someone, or something. You had to be completely isolated, unshackled.

In truth, you just needed to find the people you wanted to share your link with. The pinkies and ankles you’d knot red threads around.

It was them all along. The Sun and Moon incarnate, with their Star held between them, all of you aloft and flying with hands clasped as a single being. There was no fear of your bond ever snapping, of any of you ever being torn away by an unforgiving storm.

Being bound meant you had a home.

And your home was with these two, with Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru.

Your home was here, in this village, away from anything grand and suffocating. It was here, in their arms, fingers and hearts intertwined.

You just had to get a little lost before being found.

banner by cafekitsune ♥

taglist: @kimi01985

#Tether Me #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #satosugu x reader #chimera writes

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bejeweledblondie · 1 year

Note

imagine noticing königs belt missed a loop and so you go down on your knees in front of him and fix it, and when you stand back up he’s like blushing and panting 😮‍💨

Ah yay! My first request I’m so happy! It’s been years since I’ve written anything, but I’ve come out of retirement so I welcome anything

You’re the supply clerk for KorTac, you provide everything from pens to ammo magazines. Since you’re so articulate & organized nothing gets past you. König had walked in to return some of the extra unused ammo magazines he had signed out. He was incredibly stealthy on the battlefield & oozed confidence whenever he was behind his rifle. But women especially beautiful women much like yourself made him freeze up. Due to his experiences as a child, & teen he never went through the awkward dating phase. You were catching up on some book keeping when he walked in.

“Guten Tag fräuline,” he greeted as he walked in. You looked up from your tablet & smiled at him.

“Good morning König,” you greeted back & walked up to the counter. “What can I do for you?”

His breath hitched as he saw you looking at up at him. He was always used to people staring up at him due to his height. But there was just something about those big glossy doe like eyes. He gulped & tried to piece words in head to form a sentence. You beat him to the punch before he could even get the sentence out.

“Oh I see you’re returning the magazines!” You said pointing to the three magazines he held in his hand. As you pointed, you had noticed his tactical belt was missing a loop. “König, did you know you’re missing a belt loop?” Feeling like he was caught with his pants around his ankles he shook his head. “Well let me help you silly.” You said & walk around the counter. Before he could even react you were already on your knees undoing his belt to fix the missing loop. You couldn’t tell due to the sniper hood but he was wide eyed & his cheeks were flushed. Once you got the belt off, you readjusted his pants & started to feed his belt back through the loops. König was trying to prevent the growing erection that was happening maybe an inch away from your face. You obliviously didn’t even notice. When you went go & buckle the belt you felt a strong hand reach down to stop you. You looked confused as he pulled you to your feet. He grabbed your hand & put it on his crotch. Eyes widening you bore into the eye holes of his sniper hood.

“Y- you have absolutely no idea what you do me schatz, do you?” He stammered.

“What makes you think I don’t know?” You replied with a smirk. “Why don’t I show you?” You said as you got back down on your knees. He started to pant & breath heavily as you undid his zipper. Both did the both of y’all show each other the importance to boost morale for your fellow service members.

#call of duty #cod imagines #cod masterlist #ghost call of duty #cod modern warfare #call of duty smut #cod mwii #cod imagine #könig modern warfare #könig smut #könig imagine #könig #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig x you #könig fanfiction #könig x reader

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brianwashere · 1 year

Note

hello!! saw your writing today in my tags and got interested, read some more and you seem really cool :D i got one fic stuck in my head though, the one you posted earlier today with the 7 foot spider reader! it was really cool but i kind of thought about a follow up (and I made sure to check your rules before this)

i was thinking, m/n is really big, intimidating and generally a badass- however. in bed (nsfw) he’s inexperienced, shy af, and ends up just being really submissive (you actually didn’t specify if you prefer dom or sub reader, i assumed you mind neither, but if u don’t feel comfortable with this then just ignore)

thank you, and keep up your great works so far :D

Anon, you’re officially my favorite fucking person ever. Oh my god. This req. warmed my heart. Idek what. It just did. Thank you for reading my other fics too. Wow. I’m reeling rn.

Also you didn’t specify who with so I just did HCs for Noir and Miguel

Pls req again soon! You’re so sweet

**I do not own any characters or part of the franchise from marvel or sony **

Summary: look at req

Tw: explicit activities ehehehehe, language

-Miguel-

The first time you two try anything he’s expecting you to be all dominant and get his ass blasted

Y’all two are making out and he’s ready to take it to the next level

And you’re nervous cause you know he’s expecting you to be this super experienced “knows how to make you scream immediately” kinda guy

The truth is you haven’t had much experience because while people may be into the whole “huge man” thing they’re too scared to actually come up to you and even have a conversation

And you’re also scared of hurting your partner

Just a mix of things that led you to little experience

It doesn’t take long for Miguel to figure it out

As soon as you glanced at his face nervously he knew something was up

At first Miguel is surprised bcc he would’ve expected men and women to practically be hanging from you

Once he recovers from the initial shock he’s down with topping and showing you the ropes

It’s a bit of a boost to his ego, not to mention a massive turn on for him

He never lets you shy away from him/cover your face. He loves seeing you. He knows he’s not stronger than you but he’ll still pull your hands away/pull you closer

But sometimes he does wanna be on bottom

Queue very erotic teaching sessions

When you do something he likes he’ll definitely over exaggerate so you’ll know

He also loves marking you up in more…intense ways because he knows it won’t really hurt you

Clawing your back. He’ll claw the SHIT out of your back.

Biting you too. Sometimes he just can’t help it

He finds out you have god tier stamina and impecable recovery time and will definitely use that to his advantage

*cough cough* Overstimulation and denial *cough cough*

He’s down to do whatever you’re comfortable with but sometimes he really needs some stress relief i.e. getting a blowjob or just fucking you senseless

He won’t admit it but he likes when he’s the little spoon after you two are done

~Noir~

You got nervous and told him the first make out session that you had practically no experience

He was a little taken aback, again, you’re so big and so hot how could people not be lining up for a piece of you

It makes him feel even more lucky to be with you though

“Oh…that’s ok, dear. We’ll take it slow, then.”

Then he finds out your submissive too and he’s pretty sure he has a heart attack

Now he was pretty vanilla at first but then he found the internet and stumbled upon some kinks and did some…research

Behind. He loves seeing your back muscles move and twist under him

He likes tying your wrists together with some of his webbing

It’s strong enough that it could actually hold you if you tried resisting, maybe not for very long, but it wouldn’t snap like thread at the slightest pressure

He loves praising you. Praise. All the time. Always praise. You could breathe and he’d be on his knees for you

Every time he does something new he asks if you’re ok with it

He’ll be gentle if that’s what you want but he figures out that’s usually not the case

Usually you want everything he’s got, as much as he’ll provide you

He does love soft romantic nights with you though

Where he gets to enjoy your large beautiful frame and your contrasting shyness

When he gets to slow down and drink in ALL of you

The noises you make, the small movements, your incoherent mumbling

He loves ALL of it

He’s so down bad for you not even a joke

A little guilty pleasure for him is kissing you senseless

He loves being the big spoon for you, even if it just feels like a backpack is attached to you

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dark-fics-4-you · 2 years

Text

Nervous pt. 1

Dark!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: DUBCON, possibly NONCON, smut, degrading, drugs,

Synopsis: You never understood why your best friend’s brother seemed to hate you.

You had been best friends with Sarah Cameron for almost your whole life.

You had hundreds of memories of the two of you running around Tannyhill and playing tag with her and her older brother Rafe, and later Wheezie when she was old enough.

You had always felt like the Cameron’s were a second family to you, ‘the door is always open’ as Ward would say. It was a nice change of pace from your parents’ house, which always felt stiff and cold when they were around. Tannyhill, however, was teeming with life and exciting playdates.

As you grew up, you spent plenty of time at the Cameron’s, becoming closer over time with Sarah and Wheezie. Rafe on the other hand…

He became different halfway through high school, started floating around a different crowd. His drug use was nothing new to you, and although you were sad to see him going down that path, you couldn’t say you hated it completely. It stopped the staring.

You had first noticed it your freshman year. Rafe was a sophomore, coming back to school after a summer growth spurt that gave him a boost in height, and broad shoulders that made him seem much more intimidating.

At first, you thought you must have been imagining it. Or maybe misinterpreting? You tried to brush off the feeling of his eyes burning into your back for weeks before you finally had to acknowledge it.

He denied it of course, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he seemed almost happy that you had finally brought it up? Like he had been waiting for the confrontation. “Rafe I know what I’ve been seeing, okay? So if you have a problem with me, just say it!”

Rafe just chuckled, tongue darting out to brush his lower lip. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would I be paying you any attention?”

“I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking you!” You snapped at him, your fingers meeting the skin between your eyebrows as you tried to soothe the headache you could feel coming on. He was playing games and you knew it. You just didn’t know why.

“Maybe I was looking at Sarah and not you, did you ever think of that, Y/N?” You balked at this, and you realized you probably had been with Sarah all the times you had noticed him. But his answer didn’t feel right. You were certain you had caught him looking right at you on several occasions

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms across your chest before replying, “Whatever, just, leave both of us alone then. I don’t think Sarah would like you staring either.”

________________________

It didn’t stop the staring, but Rafe at least looked somewhat ashamed on the times you had locked eyes with him since your talk. The feeling of his glare on the back of your neck became less frequent, and you had finally felt like you could relax somewhat around him.

That is, until you started seeing him inside the Cameron residence more often. Rafe made a game out of finding all of the things you were most sensitive about just so he could taunt you. The way your voice sounded, how your jokes weren’t funny, and insensitive quips about your changing body became the norm.

Rafe enjoyed pushing your buttons and you didn’t have the first clue as to why.

The Rafe of your childhood was so different from the one you knew now. He used to be actually kind of sweet and fun, face lighting up at your stories and always wanting to play board games. And then one day a flip switched in him and he didn’t like you anymore, so you became the target of all of his rude comments.

“Dressed like Pogue trash.”

“Your chest is still so flat are you sure you’re even a girl, Y/N?”

And when you finally did grow tits? “No one wants to fuck a girl who shows off her body that much.”

All of these comments left you sputtering in anger, but getting mad at him only seemed to increase his enjoyment and he just became more brazen.

You had talked to Sarah about it, but he always waited until you were alone before insulting you, never allowing anyone to witness it. You made it your mission to never be alone with him, but he made that difficult, if not impossible.

It seemed like he was always waiting around the corner, wanting to pounce and tear you to shreds when you least expected it.

When you arrived at the Cameron’s that night for a sleepover with Sarah, you were ready to blow off some steam. It had been a tough week. You were both Juniors, struggling to slog through finals week, and you had just gotten a C+ on a project you had put your blood, sweat, and tears into. The distraction was very needed.

You rang the doorbell, waiting a few moments before the door opened and you met eyes with Rafe.

He looked high, eyes glassy and not fully focused, but they narrowed when he realized it was you. He was standing in front of the door, body angled to keep you from entering.

“Umm, wanna let me in?” You nervously laughed, thinking he would step out of the way entirely, but he gave you an exasperated look and moved so he was only blocking half of the door.

Whatever, he was probably so high he didn’t know what he was doing, you thought to yourself, stepping into the doorway, and trying to go past him without bumping into him, but Rafe shifted, getting uncomfortably close, chest brushing up against your back as you passed. What the fuck??

You turned and shot him a look.

He just raised his eyebrows in a silent, ‘what?’ like what he just did wasn’t weird, but the slight twitch in his lips told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

You chose to ignore his behavior, knowing that he wouldn’t bother you while you were with Sarah. You climbed the stairs, but glanced back one more time to confirm what you already knew, Rafe was glaring daggers at you.

———————————————

In Sarah’s room you closed the door, and greeted her with a hug. You were still unnerved about your run in with Rafe though, and mentioned it to her.

She also found it strange, nose wrinkling at your recollection of what just happened, “I think he’s just trying to intimidate you. He hates me, so he has to hate anyone I like.”

It made enough sense, but the look in his eyes didn’t feel like just hate. There was something else there, something deeper under it all that you could not figure out. Honestly, it frightened you.

You didn’t want to dwell on it though, quickly changing the subject, and the two of you settled on a movie to watch together. It was a cheesy romance movie, taking your mind off of the things troubling you and you turned on the sequel when it was finished.

An hour in, Sarah was getting tired and you were too, but you wanted to go to the kitchen to grab a snack before bed. You quietly tiptoed out of her room, not wanting to disturb her, closing the door behind you.

You cautiously looked around for any sign of Rafe, and made you way downstairs when you saw the coast was clear. His door was still closed.

You descended the stairs, and hurried to the kitchen. The Cameron’s always had a stocked pantry so you knew you would find something to snack on. You pulled out some chips and were putting them into a bowl to bring back to Sarah’s room, when you heard a click behind you and the lights went off. You spun around and saw Rafe leering in the doorway of the kitchen. Your heart pounded as he flicked the lights back on.

“Boo.” He joked, a low chuckle escaping his lips. He was shirtless, wearing only striped pajama bottoms that hung low off his hips, revealing the trail of darker hairs below his belly button. Rafe’s eyes were glued to you, but you couldn’t make out what he was thinking.

“Ha ha,” you said humorously, throwing a nervous look his way. “Also scrounging for midnight snacks?”

“Something like that,” he drawled, approaching the fridge. You noticed the way his arm and back muscles rippled as he opened the door, and you felt your cheeks grow warm.

You turned back to grab your bowl of chips, wanting to get away from Rafe as soon as possible, suddenly feeling exposed in your shorts and tank top. It’s not like he had never seen you like that before, but there was a tension in the air now that made you nervous, even though you weren’t sure why.

Rafe apparently found what he was looking for because he closed the fridge, but didn’t make any moves to leave the kitchen.

You looked at him over your shoulder, puzzled, but his face was unreadable, and he didn’t seem like he was going to say anything. You turned towards to kitchen door to return upstairs and stiffened slightly when you realized he was trailing behind you.

You ascended the stairs, all too aware of his close presence, and you sped up, only to trip and stumble on one of the steps, falling back against Rafe’s bare chest.

He steadied the two of you, one arm wrapped around your waist, fingers ghosting across your bare skin where your shirt ended. “Watch your step, Y/N. Do I really make you that nervous?” He purred in your ear and your skin crawled.

You swore you felt him lightly pressing his hips against your ass.

You wrenched yourself out of his grip, hissing quietly, “Cut it out, Rafe! This isn’t funny.” You hurried up the stairs, the taller man still following close behind you. Your chest tightened with anxiety as you approached Sarah’s room but you didn’t make it in time.

Rafe’s fingers tightened around your wrist, coming up from behind to drag you into his room, locking the door behind him.

You were confused and terrified, you thought Rafe hated you all these years, but now his actions towards you were beginning to make more sense.

Rafe turned from his door, a smirk playing on his lips as he drank you in with his eyes, “Is Sarah still awake?”

You shook your head no and took a step back as Rafe took one towards you. He cocked an eyebrow, “What are you so scared of? Hm?”

Rafe towered over you, looking down at you with a hunger in his eyes. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you finally got it.

“Rafe,” you began weakly. “Sarah is just down the hall.”

“That’s okay, we can be quiet. She won’t have to know.” He placed a hand beneath your chin, turning your face up to him as he grew closer.

His lips pressed to yours, swallowing your protests, and he walked you to his bed, pressing your back into it as he deepened the kiss. His hands trailed from your back to your hips, sliding to squeeze your ass over your shorts and you squeaked. His fingers bunched up the thin material of your shorts and he pinched your bare skin, lightly groaning against your mouth. Rafe’s lips trailed down your chin to your neck, and he sucked a tender spot, lightly nipping at the soft flesh.

Your head was spinning, the feeling of Rafe’s hands and lips on you confusing your thoughts. “Rafe, please don-”

“Shhh. Quiet, remember?” His lips met yours again, and he brought his hands to your chest, fingers plucking at your barely covered breasts. You pressed your hands to your chest and he batted them away with annoyance.

Rafe ground his hips into you, and you felt his hard length moving against your clothed core. His hands met your waist, harshly pressing down onto your hip bones. He hooked two fingers under the elastic of your shorts and slid them down your legs. He lightly pushed you onto your back, legs still hanging over the edge.

He lowered himself to his knees, removing your panties, and his blue eyes met yours. It was a look that said he wanted to devour you. His hands danced across your thighs and your breath hitched.

Rafe drew closer to your core and you gasped when you felt him slowly push his index finger into you. He curled his finger inside you, amazed at how tight you were gripping him.

He added his middle finger, and you squeezed your eyes shut at the pressure between your legs as he pushed it in to the hilt. Your eyes shot open when you felt his lips close around your clit and you couldn’t stop the whine that escaped.

You bucked your hips against his movements, the haze of pleasure you felt clouding your better judgement. Rafe’s tongue flicking against your sensitive flesh had you seeing stars, and you felt the coil in your gut tightening.

He licked your clit, fingers still expertly massaging your walls. Your fingers curled into his hair as you trembled against him, and you were pushed over the edge. You came with a moan that Rafe quickly swallowed with his lips as he moved himself on top of you, and you could taste yourself on his tongue.

You couldn’t think straight, head still reeling from your orgasm, and you tried again to push him off of you.

“Y/N stop it.” Rafe grabbed your arms. “It felt really good didn’t it?” He cooed.

You hesitantly nodded, afraid of what might happen if you said no.

“So..” he trailed off looking into your eyes. “Maybe you should return the favor.”

Your stomach twisted and you finally found your voice again, protesting weakly, “Rafe I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Hm? Why not?” He challenged, slowly edging down his pj pants.

You didn’t know how to get out of this. “Sarah…” you tried again, knowing that it wouldn’t do anything to stop him. Hot tears were pooling in your eyes.

“She’s sleeping, she won’t hear a thing.” Rafe could not be reasoned with, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer. He pushed his pj pants down, his obviously hard length pressed against his boxers.

You scrambled to sit up but Rafe shoved you onto your back again, crawling on top of you and spreading your legs with his own.

“R-rafe, please,” you were almost in tears, the fear gripping your chest only growing with every second.

“Hey, Y/N. I promise, I’ll make sure it’s not too much for you. Okay? Trust me.” He traced your jaw with his thumb before pulling you in for a gentle kiss, his reassuring words were anything but. Rafe removed his boxers, wetting the tip of his cock with the fingers he just had inside you, stroking himself a couple times before lining himself up with your entrance.

He hissed as he slowly forced himself into you, the pressure between your legs was unlike anything you had felt before. Rafe took a moment to adjust before pulling his hips back and then thrusting in again, pace picking up.

You bit back a cry, hating the way you could feel your walls squeezing around his cock.

Rafe’s hips snapped against yours, his bed rocking with his movements. He trailed a hand around your throat, increasing the pressure and you gasped.

The look in his eye was pure amazement. He couldn’t believe how tight you were, how good the gasps you made sounded. He fucked you deeper, and the sound of his flesh slapping yours filled the room.

Rafe stared between your legs, obsessed with the way his cock stretched you out. He almost couldn’t believe how wet you were.

Rafe’s lips met yours again, the hand at your throat tightening. You didn’t want to admit to yourself how good he felt as he violated you.

“You feel like you were made for me.” He breathed against your lips, and he grabbed your leg, moving it to his shoulder to fuck you at a deeper angle.

You squeezed your eyes shut, and you knew your release was approaching again.

Rafe was close, pace growing ravenous as he slammed into you. He reached his fingers to toy with your clit, the combined sensations making you feel lightheaded. You whined when his fingers twitched again and the band inside you snapped, and you came a second time.

Rafe clamped a hand over your mouth to muffle your moan, and your legs shook as Rafe brutally fucked you through your orgasm, chasing his own.

His hips spasmed and he came with a groan, spilling his seed into your warm cunt. You shuddered, feeling the stickiness spilling out down your thighs as Rafe pulled out.

You couldn’t look him in the eye, disgusted with him and yourself. You turned away from him, sniffing and trying to find your clothes. He didn’t try to stop you, still sitting on his bed nonchalantly.

As you walked out of his room, you felt his eyes boring into you, and you knew that the staring was far from over.

#rafe cameron #outer banks #dark!rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #obx #drew starkey #rafe cameron noncon

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monstersandmaw · 1 year

Text

The impact of reblogging...

Just in case you’re new, or don’t really understand how this entire site functions (and it’s completely different from other social media apps, at least for now*), or if you wanted an illustration of why it’s so important to reblog the posts you enjoy and the hard work of creators you want to support, here’s a visualisation of the impact and reach of reblogging, using my biggest post (part one of my writing masterlist).

Creators are losing the will to post and share in droves because engagement is becoming next to non-existent, and if you don’t reblog the things you enjoy for free, creators wonder why they even bother, and soon they’ll just... stop.

(Look at that reblog to like ratio too... oof)

My little blog is at the centre of that dense circle, and every point in the image represents a reblog.

Of the people who reblogged the original post, most of them did so directly from me, but you can see scattered groups of reblogs which came from people who reblogged it from those who did so from me. And so on and so on, out into the ecosystem.

If you came across my masterlist in the wild, and didn’t or don’t follow me, you only saw it because someone reblogged it.

Most of the things you see on your dash are only there because someone you follow reblogged it.

It’s how this whole ecosystem works, and you’re smothering and killing it if you don’t reblog the ‘content’ you ‘consume’ (I dislike using those terms, but it is what it is).

To clarify, no one is saying you should feel obliged to reblog everything you come across, or that everything an artist or creator puts out there ‘deserves’ to be reblogged, but for pity’s sake, reblog the things you do actively enjoy.

Leaving a like or a comment on the post is like giving a compliment directly to the creator, and it’s wonderful, but it doesn’t show that post to anyone else or boost its presence on the platform. It can also give the impression you didn’t like it ‘enough’ or it wasn’t ‘good enough’ to bother putting on your blog or reblogging. How you really show your appreciation for something you genuinely enjoyed is by reblogging. (Even better if you screech away in the tags about why you liked it, but that’s an optional extra!) It’s like giving a meaningful and impactful tip, except it’s completely free, and it only costs you the time it takes to click or tap.

I hope that clears things up, and is a useful illustration of the impact you’ve had on creators’ pages by reblogging their work, so a huge thank you to those who represent points on that chart, and those of other creators on here! It’s because of people like you that work of people like me gets seen and enjoyed by more people!!

*(I know Tumblr is trying to change things so that you see other things now, instead of only the people you follow, but you can and should turn that feature off).

#tumblr #how to use tumblr #how tumblr works #reblogging #support artists #support creators #non monster post

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unluckiestmember · 1 year

Note

Hey. Could do headcanons of Gwen Stacy x No Powers! Reader, please? Recently I remembered Gwen's story and especially the incident with her Peter Parker, so I felt curious to know what her relationship would be like with a Reader who admires Gwen's heroic figure, however, as well as her old Peter, they are powerless, without any notorious particularities and feel interested in becoming something more, someone special like Gwen. Y'know, an uncertainty of seemingly everything is repeating itself.

Coming right up!

Gwen Stacy X Powerless! Reader

Characters: Gwen Stacy/Spider-Woman

Tags: Can be read as platonic, can be read as romantic, oblivious!reader, supportive friend/girlfriend, confidence boosts, bullying and semi fluff.

Warning: None. SFW.

A/N: Yeeeeeaaaah, so I know you were probably looking for a dark outcome, but I feel we don't have enough fluff around these parks and I'm a sucker for that, so ya. Enjoy, I am so sorry!

For such a fan of Spider-Woman, Gwen was surprised you couldn’t connect the dots.

She loved how you were inspired by her heroic persona enough to try and make little changes around you.

Was especially proud when you even used that to stand up for others who couldn’t take care of themselves.

This did result in you getting bullied though.

But Gwen would always be there to pick you up and chew out your harassers.

She loves how you talk about Spider-Woman being an icon to live up to, trust me, she does!

But she wishes you saw how powerful you were.

All you could see was someone who was ordinary, maybe the lowest of the low.

But in her eyes? You were way more than that.

You were her best friend, just like Miles. Just like Peter…

She would voice it at random moments during lunch or when you are both hanging out at the arcade.

She would also remind you in your lowest moments, touching your cheek and proclaiming in a whisper how spectacular you are.

You would believe her. But it was so hard when you are so normal.

You weren’t like her, you couldn’t easily go up against rude people and take care of others successfully.

You weren’t like Spider-Woman, who made everything look so easy.

That’s why you went to work in the lab, creating serum after serum of liquids that could hopefully give you the powers you desired.

You wanted to be like Spider-Woman? This was the only way.

… Until it wasn’t.

One day, you were visited by Spider-Woman herself! In the flesh, speaking to you of all people!

She told you how amazing you are, even without powers. Even if you tried to argue against it, she would just shut you down with the best of claims;

“You stood up for a kid the other day at school, even if the bully was twice your size! You helped your best friend Gwen with her project! You were there for her when she was at her lowest and lifted her up!”

It was a bit odd that she knew everything you did for your best friend, but that didn’t cloud the adrenaline and serotonin you gained.

You two talked all night, forgetting about everything and for once in your life, you felt invincible.

After that night, you realized something; You were normal, but that was okay.

Being ordinary didn’t mean you were weak or helpless, especially when you still try your best for yourself and for others.

Powers don’t make the hero, you do.

You also realized something else; How the hell did it take you this long to realize your best friend was the Spider-Woman?!

Spider-Verse Requests are open!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day!

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seravphs · 10 months

Text

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — WOLFWOOD x FEM READER

You thought you'd be the one taking care of the stray you picked up off the streets, not the other way around.

wc — 3.6k

tags — fluff, dog boy/werewolf/shapeshifter au I guess, whatever you want to call it, “you become responsible forever for what you have tamed” but it goes both ways, animal abuse mention (non graphic and not from reader), shoujo manga vibes, title from runaway by Aurora

There’s a mangy old stray on your block. You’ve seen the kids chase him off with sticks too many times not to want to do something about it, no matter how your mother used to scold you for your bleeding heart.

“It’ll get you hurt someday,” echoes now in your ears as the cashier rings up your dog food, both wet and dry. You’re not sure which he’d - it seems like a he - would prefer.

$12.97 is your total. Not a bad price to pay for a life.

Only a gentle kind of revolt, more teasing than genuinely angry, remains in your mind as the first drops of rain land on your face. It was a light mist, barely enough to dampen the sweet smelling air. The wet haze pulled blurry rainbows across the clear summer sky, enough to put a hop in your step as you hurried back to your apartment.

There are no children today, and the neighborhood is quiet. A half dug hole by the adjacent apartment’s peonies tells you that your target is either nearby or at least recently in town. You unpack your bag, setting out a trap in the form of a can of wet food.

Something skulks in the periphery of your vision. Trying not to startle him, you peek at the shadow out of the corner of your eye. You didn’t know dogs grew to be this big.

When you really look at him, your stray seems more wolf than dog. He’d be nearly as large as as a human if he stood up on his back paws. Hiding beneath the trees where he thinks you can’t see him, he’s tense and untrusting.

It’s strange for you to think of yourself as capable of making anyone nervous, much less someone as big as he is. You take a step back.

He edges forward, then flees into the shadows again. He’s hesitant. His paws skitter across the grass, beating a fast and unsteady tempo that reveals how nervous he is. It’s obvious that he won’t come out to eat as long as you’re here. That’s fine.

Trust can be earned.

From your apartment’s windows, you watch him gulp down the food. He’s so clearly famished that he doesn’t even pause to breathe between bites, leaving you almost afraid that he’ll choke. When he’s finished, he lies down by his bowl, his eyes glittering.

He’s not asleep - he’s too wary a creature for that, but it’s relieving to see him relaxed and sated. He dozes like that for a minute or two before he lifts himself back up on weary paws to trot back into the woods.

You’ve tried to make it a routine to feed him after work, stopping by the pet store to pick up different flavors you think he’d like to try. Neon stickers pop out at you from various tags on the shelves, promising to boost muscle growth or improve bone strength.

In the end, you get them all. When all you do is work, you don’t worry about blowing your money on things like this. You have nothing else to spend it on - might as well spoil him. It’s nice to be able to take care of someone else.

It might be all in your head, but you think he’s starting to warm up to you. He still waits until you’re gone to eat, but it’s easier to keep tabs on him now. You don’t think it’s an accident.

Sneaking a glance out of the corner of your eye, you can spot the telltale signs that he was waiting. Sometimes you even find him waiting for your car to pull in.

Today, you find him at the end of your driveway, his tail thumping against the pavement. He’s in a good mood, it seems. When you park, he even gives a short howl.

He still retreats when you climb out of the driver’s side, only inching forward when you rustle your plastic bag of groceries at him. You crack the lid and set it down slightly in front of you to wait it out.

You’ve been trying to get him used to your presence so you can take him to the vet. It’s a slow process - some days he’s more amenable to your presence than others.

It takes a minute or two for him to consider if it’s worth it, if you’ll hurt him. Eventually, he slinks forward, his body low to the ground.

You smile at him encouragingly as you wait, crouched down to be on the same level as him. He’s a big dog, probably almost the same height as you sitting down. He pauses in front of the food and sniffs cautiously. Then, he passes it.

Your heart drops. Maybe he didn’t like it. Had you picked wrong? He’s eaten everything you gave him before - you didn’t think he was picky.

He comes right up to you, his hot breath gusting over your hand. Suddenly you realize that this is a predator. He might be feral or have rabies. After everything, you realize you don’t really know him.

Animals aren’t like humans. You’ve assigned a wild beast your own moral complications and assumptions. Perhaps it’s hungry enough to want to eat you.

He’s close enough that you can feel the warm weight of his body against your shins. Something fuzzy bumps into your hand insistently until you lift it. You realize that he’s asking to be pet and with trembling fingers, you do.

Your fingers stroke over his head and ears, growing surer with the way he’s pushing back against you. It tickles just a little, enough to make you giggle until he shoves his snout right into your palm. His nose is cold and wet.

“Go on,” you encourage, trying to nudge him towards the bowl. No matter how nice his fur feels, there’s something heartbreaking about watching him choose love over food.

“You need to eat,” you scold. He sneezes in a way that makes him shake all over. If he wasn’t a dog, you’d think he was smiling at you. He only takes a mouthful when you reach out to resume petting him. He seems to like it when you scratch right behind his ears.

You almost feel like you’ve formed a bond until he stops right at the boundary of your home and refuses to walk any further. You had thought you were getting along so well, too.

“Come on,” you coax. “Here, boy. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

He skitters back anyways, circling your property with a low, mournful howl before he trots back towards the perimeter.

Progress is progress, you try to remind yourself, however disappointed you are.

Sometimes, it feels like you’re not making any at all. There are days where you can’t even watch him eat, not knowing if he’s alright until the next time you find an empty bowl. Your fears are only alleviated by the moments where he lets you pet him or waits for you, a reminder that you are earning his trust.

It may be a slow process, but he is becoming more comfortable with you, little by little.

Now it worries you when you can’t find him sitting in his usual spot, wary but excited. He doesn’t come even when you peel back the lid of the can noisily, the metal crumpling easily in your hand. You can’t help your anxieties from multiplying, though logically you know that he’s probably just off doing whatever dogs do in their free time.

You’re already halfway up the walkway to your house when you turn back. You can’t go inside without knowing he’s safe. A quick lap around the neighborhood reveals nothing. You’re checking behind bushes and cars when you hear the first faint whimper.

Frantically, you push the leaves aside until you find him huddling in the center of a rose bush. He’s curled up on himself, as small as he could possibly be. His tail is tucked under his nose.

Your hands are pricked with thousands of little needles as you keep digging for him. You can’t imagine how much worse it would be for him. This could only have been his last resort. Something worse had chased him here.

He wags his tail when he sees you, barely able to lift his head. Seeing him struggle, you can’t help yourself. You push the branches aside to help him drag himself out, his body battered. Those kids again.

“Come on, baby,” you coo, stroking his matted fur as you pick him up in your arms. He’s not as heavy as he should be, starved as he is. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll take care of you.”

It was settled before you could decide it for yourself. He’s your responsibility now. There was never a choice in it.

Dr. Rem’s assistant comes out to fetch you less than five minutes into the check up. “I think you should stay,” he says, his tone just cool enough to sound a touch annoyed.

Your overgrown puppy won’t submit to her ministrations unless you’re in the room with him, stroking his ears and promising that everything will be alright. He must’ve been a pet at some point, to know what needles are and have such a reaction to them. To know that despite the initial pinch, it’s okay as long as you’re being pet.

When it’s finally over, both of you are exhausted, but Dr. Rem is as professional as ever as she walks you through the care routine for his treatments. “Honestly,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t understand how some people can be so cruel.”

You don’t either, but it doesn’t matter. He’s yours now, and you’ll never let anything touch him again.

“Does he have a name?” Dr. Rem’s incredibly blonde assistant asks as he’s filling out your release forms.

“I’ve just been calling him dog,” you admit bashfully.

He doesn’t need to speak. His expression says it all. Unbelievable.

You take a look at the creature you’ve decided to bring home. He does look more like a wolf than a dog. You’ve always thought so. “Wolfwood?”

“What a weird - ahem, interesting - name for a dog,” Nai, from his name tag, says.

By your feet, Wolfwood wags his tail in agreement.

“Wolfie?”

His tail wags harder. He pauses. It wags again. He turns around and nips at it, like he’s trying to hide the fact that he might like the nickname.

When you try to carry him from the car into your home, he clambers stiffly to his feet like an old man. You have to hide your laugh behind a couch. For some reason, he seems more human than animal. You’ve caught him noticing things no normal dog would, and you’re sure his pride would be injured.

The sound his nails clicking across the floor is strangely comforting, like ASMR. You’ve heard that dogs are naturally helpful to lower cortisol and reduce stress, but you’ve never thought you’d experience those effects. You lean down to stroke a hand over his furry coat, carefully avoiding the spots where he’s still hurt.

When it’s bedtime, you’ve resolved to give him the comfort of your bed and take the couch, but he’s not having any of that. His jaw snaps around the hem of your shirt, teeth digging into the fabric to prevent you from leaving. Immediately, you stop moving, afraid to hurt him worse.

“Calm down,” you say gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He barks in discontent. He really does seem human, as if he understood you.

Out of options, you resign yourself to curling up on the bed next to him, hoping you won’t accidentally roll over him in your sleep. Maybe you should invest in one of those bed dividers they use for small children. It’s the last thought in your head before you drift off.

A deep, reverberating sound wakes you up. You roll over with the pillow shoved on top of your head to try to get some peace, but it continues. Fed up, you finally rise out of your comfortable sheets, ready to give whichever neighbor that’s decided sunrise was a great time to mow their lawn a piece of your mind.

Instead, you’re greeted with a strange man in your bed. Your scream is cut short by his hand clapping over your mouth as soon as you start.

“Oops.” He says. “My bad.”

Your eyes grow wider in terror.

“Hey, hey,” he says soothingly, like that’s going to help when there’s a random man in your bed. “None of that. I’m a friend.”

You scream louder. In a spark of inspiration, you try to bite him. He winces. That’s when you start noticing the ears and the tail. The faint resemblances to someone else you know. The bandages wrapped around his torso.

“That’s right,” he says, noticing you look. “Recognize me now? Would this help?”

The tail flicks back and forth in a familiar motion. Someone else used to do that to show his happiness.

“Wolfie?”

“That’s a stupid name,” he laughs.

“I think I’m going to pass out.”

“Don’t do that,” he says, but it’s too late. You’re going back to bed.

You’re not sure why you’re not more surprised that the stray you picked up is actually a human, but after your initial reaction, you find yourself remarkably open to the idea. Part of you feels privately that you’ve always expected Wolfie to be special. He seemed so smart.

You’re in too deep to kick him out now, human or not, but that also might be an excuse. Having him around is nice, you have to admit. Whether he’s a human or a dog, having someone to come home to has changed your life.

You hadn’t realized how lonely you were until you came home to Wolfwood preparing dinner, the apron you bought for him wrapped around his waist. It reads ‘kiss the chef’ in bright pink letters.

Although you’re the one who took him in, you feel like you’re the one being taken care of.

It’s not just you. Even your coworkers have commented on the way you rush home now instead of staying up until the very last minute. You can’t keep up with your bad habits anymore. There’s someone waiting for you now.

When you open the door, the delicious fragrance of something savory drifts to your nose, spiced and warm. “I’m home,” you call.

There’s no need. He’s already waiting at the door. It’s a comical sight. He tries to make it casual, leaning against the wall with an oh-so-nonchalant air, but he’s there every single time you walk through the entrance without fail.

It’s too easy to get used to his presence.

Having someone to come home to makes you quicker to turn down overtime requests and more hesitant to take on additional duties. You thought this would hurt your work report, and you were willing to take the hit. Some things are worth it.

Instead, your productivity spikes. Even your manager notices, doling out rare and surprised praise on one of your last projects. The change in you is palpable.

“Did you get a boyfriend?” Meryl asks. “You seem happier lately.”

Everyone notices the way you seem brighter, more easygoing. You’ve started bringing homemade lunch boxes instead of eating out. Your good mood has translated into a better work product than any amount of indifferent hours you put in before.

It’s still a surprise when you receive your promotion at the end of the quarter. Something you’ve been working towards for months drops right in your lap. Lately, it feels like everything has been falling into place.

Good things arrive on the heels of even better things, all because you’ve felt more personally fulfilled than you have in years. You though taking Wolfwood in would slow you down, but it’s done the opposite.

You have more time now that you have someone looking after you. It also motivates you to have someone of your own to care for.

When you present the news to him, you can’t stop yourself from crying out of happiness, though it’s embarrassing. Wolfwood licks at the small tears rolling down your cheeks.

“What are you doing?” You laugh, trying to push his face away with no real effort behind it.

“Kisses,” he replies. “For doing a good job.”

Not like that, you try to remind yourself. He doesn’t mean it like that.

“Why is your heart beating faster?”

Stupid dog senses.

There are other ways in which his dog nature comes in handy. He’s more sensitive to nature than you are. You’ve come to rely on him instead of the forecast as he sends you off every morning, his nose scenting the ozone and petrichor in the air.

“Don’t forget to take an umbrella!”

“I’m already running late, bye!”

You should’ve listened. Now you’re forced to trudge through the damp muck, soaked to the bone. Your sneeze is so strong it rattles through your bones, making you feel achey and weak as you sniffle through the last leg of your journey. By the time you finally reach the front door, you feel as pathetic as you must look, like a half drowned rat.

Wolfwood is waiting for you again, but you barely register it. You nearly stumble over a cabinet leg as you try to make your way to the couch through the dizziness, collapsing on it. Wolfwood pads over to you, making a low grumbling noise of concern.

“Shh,” you murmur as you feel his cold nose shove into your palm. “Not right now, Wolfie. I’m tired.”

He puts his head across your thigh and whines discontentedly. Your breathing is coming a little hard. Still, you try to reassure him. “I’m okay. Just had a long day.”

There’s human hands against your forehead now, nice and cool. You turn your head so you can nuzzle into it, the gentle pressure relieving your headache just a little.

Someone’s holding you now, arms around your back and sides. “Come on, sweetheart, you gotta sit up. Eat something.”

Almost like a dog yourself, you whine and pout, turning your face away. The idea of food is turning your stomach right now. Everything seems too rich for your weak stomach.

“This is why I told you to take that umbrella this morning.” Wolfwood’s voice is stern, but his hands are kind as he props you up.

“One sip, alright? For me.”

Weakly, you part your lips so he can slide the spoon between your teeth. It’s a mild broth, barely any flavor to it, but it’s the only thing you can bear at the moment. The hot soup feels incredible, warming you from the inside out.

“There we go,” he says. “Good job, sweetheart.”

With his help, you finish the whole bowl. He wraps the blanket tighter around you before he takes the dirty dishes. Even when he leaves your side, you can hear him bustling around the room, so you’re not worried. This is nice. Even feverish, you feel pleasant.

When Wolfwood returns to the couch, his dog ears are peeking out of his hair. He kneels by you to check your temperature. Spotting your chance, you scratch at the base of his ears, listening for the satisfying thump of his tail hitting his thigh when you get the spot he really likes.

“What a good boy,” you coo, forgetting yourself.

He laughs at you, watching you fluster. “Did you forget I’m not a real dog?”

Your face is hot, but not from the fever.

A few months into the strange miracle of having someone else to care for, and someone to care for you, Wolfwood asks you for an unusual favor.

“Can you get me a collar?”

Your gaze sweeps over him, considering. “I don’t know how I’d feel about that now that I know you’re a man.”

“Honest, aren’t you?” When he smiles, you can see his fangs. It’s strangely charming, the wink of white bone in the corner of his mouth.

“Why do you even want one?”

“I dunno, instinct? It just feels nice.” He braces his hand against his throat, testing the way it’d feel. “Yeah. It feels like something’s missing.”

“That’s strange. I thought you’d prefer to be free.”

He stretches out, lifting his arms. You can see the muscle lining his back beneath his thin, nearly transparent white tee. “Freedom is relative. Everyone is tied to something, you know. No use in pretending otherwise.”

You tap his nose playfully. With a mischievous look in his eyes, he lunges forward and snaps his teeth over your finger.

“You can be wise for a puppy,” you say teasingly.

“Like I keep telling you, I’m a man,” he says, roughly pulling you towards him so he can punish you by messing with your hair. You shriek in protest, trying to push him off, but the request sticks inside your head.

On the weekend, you take a few leashes from the right section and sneak into a quieter corridor in the pet store. Even though you’ve agreed to this for Wolfwood’s sake, it’s still embarrassing. You have your pride, and it’d be hard to explain to anyone what your actual situation is.

Perhaps understanding your plight, Wolfwood doesn’t mess with you as he usually does. Or maybe he’s just pliant at the thought of getting what he wants as you clip the leather around his neck.

It looks good on him, you have to admit. He looks almost like a punk rock star, transforming it from dog collar to statement necklace.

You flick the tag on his neck, watching the silver circle twinkle with your name and number. It’s meant for him to wear when he chooses to go on walks himself as a dog. “Now it’ll be okay even if you do get lost,” you tell him, satisfied.

“I’d be fine either way,” he says. “I know the way home.”

For some reason, that makes you feel as owned as he looks, even though you’re not the one with a collar around your neck.

#wolfwood x reader #trigun x reader #Nicholas Wolfwood X reader #sera writes

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