#like i love minding my own business too much to be willing to argue with people who disagree with me on truly inconsequential opinions | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kingtomura · 6 months

Text

Cat and mouse

synopsis: Your ex boyfriend has some nerve texting you at three in the morning — an entire week after the disaster breakup you had. You should really go over there and give him a piece of your mind. Well, you know what they say about famous last words. wc: 6.1k | crossposted to ao3 content: tomura shigaraki x female reader, no quirks au, toxic tomura, reader is kinda toxic too tbh, unhealthy relationships, breaking up and making up, vaginal fingering, overstim, breeding kink, piv, dubcon creampie, degredation, threats of baby trapping, hurt/comfort, sweet at the end idc

You’ve told your friends time and time again to stay out of your business. They never listen.

“Oh my god, Kirishima? Is he even twenty yet?” You drag as you watch your friend flip through several pictures of the redheaded boy like he was a member of the bachelor.

She smiles, scrolling her phone for more options, “no, but he will be in a couple of months!”

“No!” Your words are sharp. You love Mina but god, you don’t want her to play matchmaker with you. It’s not like you’re a charity case or something.

She gasps and you swear you could see the lightbulb go off above her head. “What about Denki? He’s fun!”

You groan, falling back onto the bed and covering your eyes with your arm. “Mina.”

“Hey, just give her a break okay? It’s only been about a week.” Your saving grace Yaoyorozu speaks up and it’s nice to finally have someone on your side.

“Thank you.”

“Seriously? So we’re just going to sit around and watch you mope about all day?” Mina questions, irritation clear in her voice and it grates your ears.

“Preferably, yes! Just let me be.” You roll over, face officially shoved into your pillow. It’s been a rough couple of days and you haven’t gotten a single call or text from Tomura. Not that you should be expecting one. You broke up with him after all.

It’s just.. this time feels different. Usually there’s more arguing and he’s fighting for you to stay around, but this time there was nothing. No quips, no insults, just “fine, get out then.”

That hurt the most.

You had no idea what he was up to.

Maybe he was as depressed as you were.

Maybe he’s found someone else.

The thought makes you stop in your tracks. The idea of Tomura, your tomura with someone else is enough to make you nauseous.

You jump to your feet and rush to the bathroom, locking yourself in and falling to your knees.

God, what if that was why it was so easy?

You pull out your phone, the device lighting up and unlocking with your facial id.

Tomura doesn’t use social media much but you could still check to see if he’d blocked you.

To your surprise, he hadn’t.

He hasn't posted anything either and there’s no new person in his followers.

You feel yourself exhale a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. No change is a good thing.

There’s knocking on the door and you thank the stars you locked it. Your friends would judge you so hard if they saw you lurking through your ex’s social media.

“Hey, are you okay in there?” It’s your saving grace Yaoyorozu again and you almost feel bad for shutting her out.

“Yeah, I’m sorry if it feels like I pressured you! I’ll give you some space.” Mina's regretful voice calls and it makes your heart clench. You know she means well but she just doesn’t understand. None of them do.

Whether you want to admit it or not, you love Tomura.

Yes, you argue and yes, you fight, but he just gets you. He’s so cynical, but so caring — in his own special way. Too bad he was such an asshole. The argument wasn’t even supposed to go that far.

There are tears beginning to blur your vision and you wipe them away, willing the feelings down and standing to your feet.

If he wanted you to stay away, then fine. You could do that.

You splash cool water onto your face and take a breath, steeling yourself and getting ready to face your friend once more. It was Saturday and they were convinced you needed a fun girl’s night.

It takes a lot to refrain from cringing at the phrase, but you believe they held some truth with the idea. You definitely didn’t want to be alone right now.

You unlock the bathroom door, meeting Mina and Yaoyorozu’s worried expressions with a smile.

“We should probably get ready now, huh?”

Mina’s eyes light up, smile blinding and excitement contagious.

“Yes! Jirou and the others are here now.” She starts to clap, excitement buzzing around her, “Girl’s night is going to be amazing!”

—-

Girl’s night was a bust.

The moment everyone arrived the apartment quickly filled with chaos. Noisy and busy, it was all giving you a headache. Until someone decided it would be a good idea to pregame before going out.

In preparation for the night your friend’s insisted that you get dolled up, hair makeup and skimpy clothes you wouldn’t look twice at on any normal day.

You had to admit it made you a little more excited to get out and at least feel like your world isn't crashing around you. It was supposed to be a fun little night out. Somehow one drink turned into two, which turned into three which turned into Mina swearing she could beat everyone in a dance battle.

The group only got more riled up as everyone indulged in this silly challenge.

One challenge leads to another, which leads to more drinking, which then ends in everyone being too drunk to function and knocking out — all laid out in odd places around your living room floor and couch.

The groggy feeling came first, your arms radiating in dull pain as you vaguely recalled trying to beat Mina in a contest of who could do the most push ups. It sure as hell wasn't you, but the drunk version of you thought it was possible to move mountains.

You blink a few times, trying to will your eyes to rapidly adjust to the darkness of the room and find out what this odd buzzing noise beside you had been. Turning over, you find your phone, squinting as the too bright screen lights up your face and you see that it is three a.m.

You had fallen asleep with everyone else.

The phone buzzes again, lighting up and you have to squint further to read the contact name.

Tomura.

Your eyes widen as you scan over the three texts he’s sent you.

Wasting no time, you rush to your feet and into the bathroom so you can look at your phone without the chance of prying eyes overlooking your shoulder. Even though they were probably going to be out until late morning.

Tomura’s messages were short, no paragraphs, no essays but three different messages sent in succession.

When are you coming to get your shit?

I’m tired of waiting.

And I’m deleting our farm btw.

The first two messages don’t get much of a reaction from you, especially since it’s three a.m and he knows you’re usually asleep around this time.

But the third message…

Your Stardew Valley farm that you’ve had and worked on together for almost two years being put on the line and threatened? What the fuck was his problem?

This farm was a constant in your relationship. Throughout the ups and downs and back and forths. You were sure that hell would freeze over before you both would give up that progress. But here he is, threatening you while you would have been asleep. What an asshole.

Your feet are moving before your brain can stop them and you make your way to the front door. Since your friends were all passed out it would be easy to sneak over to Shigaraki’s place, give him a piece of your mind and then sneak back. In and out, quick and easy.

Your decision is made and you grab your coat, deciding to just go over there as you are. You hadn’t changed out of your outfit that was supposed to be for the night out, but it didn’t matter. You only needed to get over there and get there fast.

Once you arrive at Tomura’s doorstep you waste no time knocking. It’s around three in the morning so he should still very much be awake.

There's a chill in the air as you wait for his answer and you wrap your jacket closer to your body. A rumble of thunder caught your attention and it's then you notice the rain clouds rolling in. You knew it would only be a matter of time before the bottom of the sky falls out and rain drenches everything. You were on borrowed time if you wanted to make it back before then.

After what feels like forever the door finally opens, revealing a very cozy pajama-clad Tomura, who seemed a little too pleased for his own good — if that sly smile he was doing a bad job at hiding was anything to go by.

You don't give him a chance to greet you or say anything for that matter, stopping his words in their tracks as you cut him off. “What do you want?”

He doesn’t bother hiding his smirk now, the expression making your fists clench and your anger boil. “What do I want? You’re at my door, in front of my apartment.” He scoffs, clearly getting the exact reaction he had wanted from you, “I should be asking what do you want?”

Caught like a deer in headlights. Whatever, you don't let that stop you as you pull out your phone to show him his text. “You sent this, I know you’re bluffing. What do you want?”

Tomura shrugs, leaning against his door frame and giving you a pleased look. Expression relaxed and content. Not a care in the world. “To talk.”

“Well, I'm here now, so let’s talk.” You spit, crossing your arms and waiting for whatever else he would throw at you.

“Sure, but you should come in first.” He starts, looking up towards the darkened sky, confirming his assessment. “It’s gonna rain soon, you know.”

Of course you knew that.

You just didn’t want to give him more time than you had. But you agree and go in, ignoring the fighting feeling in the back of your mind screaming at you to turn away and hightail it out of there.

Tomura’s home is the exact way it was the day you left, give or take a few more containers of takeout littered around the place. You have half a mind to scold him about it, but quickly remember that it isn’t your place to do that anymore.

So instead you stay quiet, following him into the apartment and into the living room. Opting to stand as he sat, and resisted the urge to get comfortable.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” You try, done watching him pick up a controller and boot up a video game. Seriously?

Your patience was wearing thin now as you watched him ignore you to play some stupid game. You try calling to him again, knowing this was probably a waste of your time and groans.

“I was in the middle of something before you got here. Let me finish and we’ll talk.” It's flippant the way he waves you off and continues the game. The lack of care only hurting your feelings further and making you realize this may have all been a big mistake on your part.

You shouldn’t be at your ex boyfriend’s house being ignored. You should be at your house getting drunk and hanging out with your best friends. There was no reason to stay somewhere you’re obviously not valued.

It’s a simple choice when you put it into perspective.

But things are always easier said than done.

You sigh, the air puffing out your cheeks, a bad habit you had when angry, and walk right in front of Tomura’s TV. There was more satisfaction in making him lose the game and then announcing your departure than just leaving quietly.

He cranes his neck to see around you, but it doesn’t work, finally giving up as his character inevitably dies. “What!?”

“I’m leaving!” You announced, turning on your heel and heading towards the front door.

“You had to make me lose first? I said I was almost done!” He spat back, rising from the couch to follow you.

You shrug, “I don’t care. Why invite me in if you’re just going to ignore me?”

“Didn’t think you had the patience of a child.'' Tomura stands in front of you, cutting through your path and stopping you in your tracks.

It's almost comical the way he insults you. “Okay pot, meet kettle.” You try to brush past him, but he side steps with you.

“What are you dressed like that for anyway? Did you go out tonight or something?”

“No!” You deny, a little louder than intended and then pause. “But it’s none of your business what I do anyway.”

Tomura hums at this, taking the words in and running them through his mind as he gives you a once over, eyes scanning from the too-tight shirt you wore — showing a generous amount of cleavage, down to your mini skirt that left little to the imagination.

“Could've fooled me.”

“What do you mean by that?” You hate when he gives you cryptic answers, like it’s impossible to pry into his mind to see what he was thinking at the moment.

“You knew you were coming to see me so I dont get why you're wearing that skimpy shit. Unless you wanted me to check you out.”

“Not everything is about you, Tomura. Maybe I just wanted to dress up and look nice.”

“Bullshit—”

“God, Tomura you always fucking do this!” You yell, walking right up into his face. The excitement in his scarlet eyes sends a chill up your spin, but you can’t back down.

He gets closer, matching your tone and you can still see the grin he’s trying to hide. It makes you see red. “Do what? Tell you the truth? You know I’m not wrong.”

“Yeah, you think you know everything, but you don’t. I’m dressed up because I want to be, not because of you.” You’re insisting at this point, frustration threatening to tip over and spill out into the form of another pointless argument. Why did you think you could actually come over and have a decent conversation with him?

Tomura is a master at getting under your skin and hitting where it hurts. In all of your arguments he’s never really pulled out the big shots but you wouldn’t put it past him to do so now.

“Oh, so you come over to my place dressed like a slut and you expect me to believe you don’t have some hidden motive?”

And there it is.

Your last straw. He could be so egotistical and mean — you’ve had it.

You regret it the moment you do it, but your body moves before your brain can process your actions. You push Tomura. Hard.

He doesn’t fall back far but you know it’s enough to piss him off. And he’s never been one to hold anything back, so he shoves you back and your back hits the wall.

Tomura has you pinned before you know it and there’s a thrill that runs through your body in a way you know you shouldn’t be feeling. Your knees feel weak for reasons that are not related to fear and your panties were gradually becoming more wet.

His voice is low and his eyes are narrowed as he pins you against the wall, pressing your cheeks together with his other hand. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

You have to bite back a smile, knowing this has taken a turn and you aren’t strong enough to stop where it’s going. Not that you would want to.

“Oh yeah? If I piss you off so badly then why are you hard?”

He doesn’t look down. He can feel his own arousal just as well as you can while it’s pressed against your abdomen.

Tomura pushes off of you — maintaining some distance as he turns away.

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Sure am.” You supply, chipper and certain as you trail behind him.

He’s walking further into the apartment, and you follow. Legs moving on their own accord as you go further into the lion's den, exchanging quips and insults. You jab your finger into his shoulder, bothered by the way he continues to ignore you, it's a pathetic attempt at catching his attention and it works. Kind of.

The only response being him slapping your hand away with a glare and muttering a soft fuck off as he walked on.

You both went back and forth. Like the sun and moon, you just can’t stay away from each other.

It was how these things usually went between you and Tomura. He would start up, make a petty argument and you would never back down. Tomura is someone who was used to getting his way and others simply did what he said with no objections.

But that was not how you were.

And he loved it.

You knew by the way he would get that devious glimmer in his eye when you would challenge a point, starting up a debate. Sometimes they were heated enough to make you both break up. It never lasted more than a few days. A week being the longest.

Push and pull.

Tomura made his way past you again, ignoring your calls about how you hate being ignored. At this point you’re sure he’s doing it on purpose to rile you up more but you can’t help but take the bait. You grab his shoulder, forcing him to turn around and face you as you point a finger in his face.

“Stop walking away from me!”

He grabs your wrist and pulls you closer, making you stumble on your feet and almost lose balance. You were so close you could feel the heat from his body and smell the fresh linen scent of his shirt. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

You snatch your wrist away from him, tension between you two growing hotter by the second as the space between you got thinner.

“What are you going to do about it?”

The narrowing of his eyes only made your grin grow wider as you watched the gears turn in his head as he thought about just how many things he would do about it. All of it enticed you, so you beat him to the punch.

You reach forward again, fully intending to shove his shoulder again for another reaction, another glare, maybe even more words, but he stops you. It was fast, the way you both tumbled through the hallway as Tomura crashed his lips to yours. The relief of finally feeling his lips again meshed with the excitement of how rough he was with you.

You lose yourself in the kiss, welcoming him in with open arms as you vaguely register the dark walls of his room and posters plastered along the walls in your scuffle.

It was exciting, probably the best part of breaking up and making up. At this point you think the whole point of falling apart is coming back together again. An endless cycle where the reward is worth the punishment.

Cat and mouse.

You end up on top of him, straddling his hips while your smug smile beams down at him. Tomura gives you an unamused look in return, yet the way his hands rested on your thighs gave away the ill hidden interest. It was all the encouragement you needed as you leaned down, hovering above him with both hands on his chest.

“Not so tough now, are you?”

It’s bait. You know it’s bait, he knows it’s bait, but he takes it anyway — the way you knew he would.

Tomura wastes no time flipping the both of you over, quickly reversing your positions as he settled himself between your legs. It’s dangerous the way his actions riled you up further, and you have to bite your lip to keep the smile from betraying your false anger. You couldn’t let him know how excited you were to be back in his bed.

He presses your cheeks together and rocks your head left to right, tone mocking and eyes wild with fever, “Oh, look who’s become a firecracker all of the sudden. Where did that flame come from, huh?”

You want to respond, but Tomura beats you to it, releasing your cheeks and pointing a nimble finger against your forehead, “Don’t be dumb.”

His eyes trail from yours and then down to your lips, then finally down to your exposed cleavage. The movement was swift as he cupped one of your breasts in his hand and dipped down, claiming your lips again. It was softer than the first time but not by much, especially not when he matched his pace by grinding his clothed erection into you, making you moan at the contact.

Your skirt was so short and it made you feel even more exposed than you already were. Tomura had easy access to you and the thin fabric of your panties made everything feel so much closer.

You moan at the contact, swiping your tongue against Tomura’s bottom lip and wasting no time deepening the kiss as you pull him closer. You needed more and you needed it as soon as possible.

Tomura pulled the low cut front of your shirt down, easily exposing your breasts from the confines of the shirt and massaged them, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your nipples and making you cry out from the sensitivity.

He pulls away from you, eyes gazing into yours and you swore in that moment he put you in a trance. Tomura’s ruby red gaze always left you mesmerized and you can’t help the whimper that leaves your lips, brows furrowed and eyes wanting, “Please.”

“Please what?” And he’s not taunting you, he’s not mocking you. His eyes are soft as he brings a hand to your cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” Fuck, you’ve missed him. “I just want you.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face as he strokes your cheek, soft look in his eyes making your heart flutter, and then it’s gone. Replaced by a hardened gaze as he moves to remove your shirt and bra, fully exposing you to his hungry eyes, and then moves to remove your short skirt.

His hands hover there for a moment, debating whether or not he should keep it on and fuck you in it, but then decides against the idea and pulls it off, taking your soaked panties down with it as well.

The air in the room feels cool against your skin as you shiver in anticipation.

“Fuck,” Tomura whispers, now eye level with your cunt. You gasp as he runs two fingers between your wet folds and holds the digits up to show you. Syrupy clear slick clung to them, slowly trailing down as Tomura rose back up, eye level with you once more.

“You’re so wet…” He murmured, bringing the digits to your mouth and you opened, taking them into your mouth and tasting yourself. You kept eye contact as you watched his eyes widen in delight — Tomura loved it when you put on a show for him.

There’s another moment of Tomura pressing against your tongue with his fingers and then he pulls them out, opting for a kiss in exchange, his tongue dipping into your mouth and groaning as he could taste what’s left of your slick on you as well.

The pleasant feeling and linguid action of your movements made your shoulders relax as you practically melted into his soft bed, the feeling of his body above yours bringing you mountains of comfort. It was a distraction, of course.

You felt the same two of Tomura’s fingers prod at your slick entrance before pressing in fully and all the way down to the knuckle. The stretch was intense but the pressure was euphoric, making you squeeze your eyes shut and grip him closer.

He didn’t make you wait long as he pumped his fingers, quickly finding that sensitive spot so deep inside of you that only he could pinpoint and brushing against it over and over.

The feeling was so good it made you pull away from the kiss to breathe, thighs twitching and toes curling in pleasure. You wouldn’t last long like this.

“Tomura, fuck..!” You moaned, drowning in ecstasy as he continued his abuse of your spot, never letting up or slowing down, aiming to make you cum as quickly as he could. It was obvious he wanted you to come undone as soon as possible by the way he watched your every expression.

The way your brows furrowed to the way you bit your lip. Tomura eagerly drank every expression and gave it back to you in the form of pleasure.

“What?” He started, unphased by your dilemma, “Gonna cum?”

It took a lot of focus and effort, but you nod — done with fighting for the night and accepting the fact that you will come apart quickly. So you give in to the pleasure.

Tomura smiles, a devious grin splitting his features as he curls his fingers, hitting the spot one more time for good measure and you lose composure, your climax crashing into you like a tidal wave. There was nothing you could do besides ride the feeling while holding on to Tomura tight — like you would get swept away if you didn’t.

He fucks you through it with his fingers, eyes never leaving your face as you come down from your high.

“Pent up, huh?” He questions, and this time there is that little hint of teasing. It brings you back to reality.

Yes, you have been pent up. You haven’t been able to get off to anything since you’ve broken up and it’s been hell.

You have no time for the games, you just want him and you want him now.

So, you take Tomura’s face in your hands, making him look you in the eyes. The flecks of black in his carmine eyes always makes you remember why you come back. Every single time.

“Fuck me, please, Tomura.” It's soft and filled with desire that you cannot be bothered to hide, and Tomura has never been one to deny you.

He quickly discards his own clothes, making sure to not stay away from you for long. His cock is hard and leaking precum from the head as he strokes it in preparation. You feel giddy at the thought and watch as he slides the head of his cock between your folds, coating it with your slick, and rubbing against your clit. The action makes your hips twitch up towards him.

He loves to tease and make you wait, but today he doesn’t make you wait long. Tomura leans down after lining himself up with your entrance and places his free hand behind your head, right above the nape of your neck. His hands were warm and the feeling of those hands cradling your head felt so comforting in the space of his familiar dark bedroom.

You bring a hand to his hair, tangling your fingers in his ashen locks as he pushes forward. The stretch makes you whimper and Tomura captures your lips in a kiss again, swallowing the noises and releasing a groan of his own as your walls tighten around his cock.

There's something about the way Tomura drags his hips, the way he starts off at a slow pace, winding you up as he steadily increases his speed and force. It happens so gradually that you don't realize you’re screaming his name until he tells you to shut up — threatening to cover your mouth because he didn't want his neighbors to hear how much of a slut you were.

It drove you mad the way he said it all with a smile and fucked you harder. Almost daring you to be louder so he can punish you with a hand over your mouth.

Tomura knew how rough you liked it and he always delivered, giving you back arching pleasure as he pounded into you. It leaves you gasping and struggling to keep your voice down. Your hands find the surface of his back, trying to hold on as much as you could with building pleasure on the horizon.

“Tomu— Tomura..! Please,” you cry and he doesn’t miss a beat, driving his cock so deep against your sweet spot it makes you see stars. “Fuck..!”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Tomura cooed, eyes filled with mischief as he brought you closer to the edge. “Cry for me.”

And you do, your body feeling euphoric as the feeling buzzed up your spine and filled your brain with the fuzz of ecstasy.

“What are you gonna do, huh?” He starts, his hips grinding against you, the closeness of his pelvis rubs against your clit, making you cry out again, “What are you gonna do when I breed this pretty cunt and make sure you’re stuck with me forever?”

He’s bluffing, you know Tomura doesn’t want kids. He’s just trying to gauge your reaction. Your dedication.

“Tomura…” You only moan, breath catching as he hits that spot inside you that he knows so well.

Tomura is smiling, wild and devious, as you look up at him with glossy eyes, so close to crying from the feelings, “I’m gonna do it. I’ll make you mine forever and you can’t do anything about it.”

“Ah!” You should stop him, tell him to calm down but he has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your back arching off of the bed. Everything is blurring together and you can only slur words as the drool from your earlier kiss trails down your cheek.

You are completely at his mercy like this and you know your friends would be beyond disappointed.

It just feels so good the way his cock drags in and out of your body pulling moans and whines from your throat. He was relentless in the way he pounded into you — beyond the point of being soft and slow because he knows that’s exactly you like it.

“Say you want it.” The command comes with the slowing of his hips and you whine, high and needy as Tomura slows to a near stop.

“Tomura, I—“

“Say you want it or I swear to god I’ll stop right now.” It’s a threat and you don’t want to find out if he’ll go through with it. Tomura never goes back on his word.

“No, please, don’t— I want it!” you pant, frustrated and aching for more movement.

“I want you to,” you stammer, desperate to have your release. “I don’t care if you cum in me. I need you so bad.”

“That’s my girl,” He coos, dipping his head down onto your shoulder, “Fuck.. love you s’much”

You stop — you’ve never heard him say that. Ever. You doubted he would ever say it since it’s been so long.

He doesn’t give you a chance to ruminate on it because he's picking up the pace again and giving you the friction you were so deeply in need of. The feelings are swimming in your head as your cries reach new heights. Tomura is too far gone to stop you or care and you’re thankful. You couldn’t stop yourself if you tried.

The build of your orgasm crashes down and sends you with it, making your thighs quiver in pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut. Tomura’s mouth meets yours before you could cry out, the warmth of his tongue guiding you as he fucked you through it.

He didn’t last long after, the way your walls tightened around him with the force of your orgasm has Tomura’s pace erratic as he chased his own high.

The bed shook as Tomura finally finished, hips stuttered as he released inside of you, hot seed coating your insides and making heat rise to your cheeks. He really did it.

You watch as he slows to a stop above you, his eyes closed as he enjoys the feeling of release. Tomura’s breathing was heavy and you couldn’t stop yourself from bringing him down into another kiss, traveling from his lips to his cheeks and then back again.

It was intimate and you were worried it may have been too much, given the reason you were both in this situation was because of a stupid breakup.

Tomura’s pulls out of you, making you wince and taking the feeling of being so full away from you. He doesn’t go far, opting to stay on top of you and rest his head on your shoulder, wanting to keep you as close as possible.

“You really piss me off.” He mumbles into your shoulder, out of breath and tired. “God, why can’t you just stay with me.”

“Tomura…” Your hands run through his hair, the sweat is making it stick to his forehead as you wait for him to keep talking.

“Stop leaving me.” His voice is firm, unwavering.

“You told me to go.”

“I didn’t think you fucking would. I would never actually want you to.”

“I can’t read between the lines Tomura, I’m not in your head.” You make him look at you this time, pulling his hair a little to get him to raise his head. “Did you mean it?”

“I just said I didn’t—“

“No, the other thing you said.” He gives you a look of pure confusion and you lose a little bit of hope, “when you said you loved me?”

You stare into his carmine eyes, hoping, praying it wasn’t just pillow talk from the heat of the moment.

He looks at you for a long time, frustration still wearing on his features. If you didn’t know any better you would say he was pouting. “Of course I meant it. I’ve always felt like that.”

“But you’ve never said it!”

“I show it!”

“How?” This is getting frustrating and going in circles.

He groans, sitting up and taking his warmth with him. “I’m not going to sit here and list everything I’ve ever done for you. I don’t think it works like that.”

You open your mouth to counter, irritation on your tongue because that’s not what you meant, but Tomura stops you again.

“I don’t know how to explain it, okay?” He shakes his head and sighs, laying next to you on the bed and looking up at his ceiling. “It’s weird. I have these strong feelings, but it’s not hate, it's not anger. It's the opposite of that.”

You stare at him as he focuses ahead, keeping his eyes trained on the uninteresting ceiling above.

“Father said it’s a weakness and I should feel that way but,” There’s a pause as he looks away from the ceiling, meeting your eyes finally, “if it’s so weak of me, then why are the feelings so strong?”

Your heart aches. It's clear that he’s torn, and with the strange way he was raised you know that he can’t help the way he is.

“Tomura…”

“And it won’t go away. I can’t fight them down or push them away like I can with everything else. It eats me up and I… guess I lash out because of it.” He shakes his head and for the first time Tomura looks defeated. You’ve never seen him this way — he’s always been filled with confidence and self assured. “I just don’t know what to do.”

You bring a hand to his cheek as you press your forehead against his. It kills you that this is what’s been on his mind and you aren’t sure what you could do to fix it. Maybe there was nothing you could do, physically, but you would do your best to be there for him emotionally.

“Sometimes,” you try to be careful with your words, knowing how much Tomura looks up to his foster father even though the man has been nothing but strange to him. “People say things that aren’t true because they don’t know how to live with it.”

Tomura’s guardian cannot live with love nor the idea of it.

“That doesn't mean you have to live that way.”

And it’s the truth.

Tomura doesn’t say anything, just watches you with heavy lidded eyes, ruby red nearly glowing in the low light of the room. He was so much more than what people thought they knew of him and you didn’t care if it took time for others to see that.

He leans in, closing his eyes and you meet him halfway into a kiss.

It's warm and it's soft and you know that even when your phone is buzzing from dozens of missed calls and texts from your friends, it will be fine.

You and Tomura would take things one day at a time.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura x reader #mha x reader #my works #tomura shigaraki smut #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you

2K notes · View notes

bonny-kookoo · 11 months

Text

Jungkook

𝐇𝐨𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 🔞 | Oneshot

"Does he even pay you?"

Tags/Warnings: Idol!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, friends with benefits situation, major angst, mentions of sex work, smoking, smut, god so much filth, Dom!Jungkook, big dick JK but what's new, did I mention angst?, protected sex, multiple rounds, multiple positions, a brief thighjob, so many feelings

Length: 7k+ words

There is no taglist for this fic. This is a Oneshot.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

"How does it feel to be a celebrity and ending up with me?" You wonder at him over the music, making him frown before he shakes his head, pulling you in by your hands he's holding.

"What're you talking about babe?" He argues softly, letting go of your hands to hold your waist now. "I've got the prettiest girl at my side, in my opinion. Can't complain whatsoever." He tells you into your ear, voice raised a bit and slightly raspy from his last smoking break.

You just shrug, enjoying the music when some people approach you, talking to Jungkook about something you don't listen in on, even though he's still holding you close. It's none of your business, you really don't want to get too involved with his work and everything around it, but it's clear that he likes to do exactly that.

Jungkook wants you around all the time. Doesn't matter if it fits the scene and situation, if he can invite you or bring you along, he will.

Fans don't know your connection to him. They constantly battle it out in comment sections that you're just a translator, nothing else, that you're staff so of course you have to travel alongside him. And just how they can seem to connect everything to dating if it fits their 'ship' they've got inside their minds, they're also talented in finding thousands of (sometimes frankly ridiculous) reasons as to why it cannot possibly be true either.

While before, someone wearing the same jewelry as Jungkook was a confirmation of a relationship, with you its just pure coincidence. You're an adult woman, you can choose whatever necklace or ring you want, that doesn't mean you're dating him. You're wearing the same t-shirt he wore just a day ago? Maybe you just own the same, or he was nice enough to lend it to you for one reason or the other. Seen near his hotel room? Well of course, you're staff!

The truth is, that you're not even staff at all- but you're also not dating him.

Jungkook has become awfully… comfortable in his trust that fans will brush off every rumor floating around. It's why he's shamelessly grabbing your tits from behind right now just for the fun of it, lips kissing your neck as you slap them off to hold your waist instead. "They'll call it AI-generated or something." He laughs, but you can't shake off the feeling of doubt about that. "And there's no one here filming anyways. It's a private VIP zone, so relax baby." He chuckles, swaying you with him to the beat.

He's right that this is a secluded zone- but that's never stopped anything ever before, did it. One random Instagram live where you're both seen in the background and it's over. For both of you.

"Let's go back to the hotel though. I'm horny as fuck." He laughs, making you roll your eyes with red cheeks to go with.

Jungkook is a shameless person- he doesn't see anything wrong with the things he says or does if they're not hurting anybody. He's got his own opinions and he stands by them, only ever shifting his stance if there's undeniable evidence of him being wrong shown to him. And he also enjoys the more physical aspects of love.

Jungkook enjoys sex to its fullest.

He used to sleep around quite often, his charm and also wealth and status enough to make the act of finding someone willing fairly easy. Most wouldn't be believed anyways if they openly said he'd slept with them- he made sure they never took pictures or god forbid videos, and he also never stayed the night, most of the time preferred the security of his own home where he could politely tell them to leave after the deed was done, his reasoning always having to do something with his work.

'I'm sorry, I got called up to the studio.'

'Fuck I forgot I had a flight early morning tomorrow.'

'I'm really sorry, ah this is awkward, but my manager just told me to a live now, and I can't have you being seen.'

You knew he did this. You were staff at some point, after all, even if not hired by his company but rather outsourced during a particularly demanding schedule and many other employees sick due to a viral infection going around in the office building.

You'd been just another victim of his. But somehow, he ended up biting down too hard- making him taste blood, Primal hunger awakened at the mind-blowing experience he'd had, an odd need to keep you just for himself having blossomed from it all. You were a keeper, you still are- and while it's not really love, it's good enough for him. Close enough.

He reminds you, regularly, that it's not love, with how he never claims to love you, avoids the topic altogether, always tells others you're just very close even when it's obvious just like tonight that you're a little too close to just be something casual. But he enjoys your presence nonetheless. Like a dear friend, just with some deeper layers to it.

Some staff call you his personal prostitute. And in a way, you do sometimes feel like that.

Jungkook is that kind of man who could have sex first thing in the morning. Doesn't even have to wake up fully- if you touch him just a bit, he'll come to life in an instant, if he's not sporting a boner already. He enjoys the exhaustion he feels afterwards, always pushes you past your first and second O, keeps his own saved up for the very last stretch all the time. He draws it out to high heavens, has trouble calling it quits.

Shower sex he's mastered, knows exactly where to step and what position to get into to make it as safe as possible. He loves having you on his large sofa, leather easy to clean after you're both done. Sixty-nine is his favorite dinner for two, though he has to admit that lately, he's been enjoying the more closer positions a lot more. Spooning from behind, lotus, you name it- you've become more than just an outlet for him.

He doesn't know what they call you behind his back. What your unofficial status is. They'd never admit that to him, because why would they? No one wants to get on his bad side if they don't have to.

He's on his phone, free hand on your thigh as you both sit in the back of the car that's driving him back to his hotel. He's gonna get out first, make his way inside, while you'll get in later from the back entrance to not raise any suspicion. It's normal. Routine. You've mastered it by now.

"I'll see you in ten." He winks before he makes his way out the car, rushing past some fans who've found out his location, bodyguards already there to guide him inside the lobby.

"Does he pay you?" The driver chuckles, and you shake your head. "Damn." The elderly man clicks his tongue. "Go find yourself an actual man, dear." He tells you as he parks behind the hotel, watching you move, your phone vibrating in your pocket, before it stops suddenly. "You know what they call you, right?"

"I know." You admit quietly.

"And you're okay with that? You're too sweet to let yourself be used like that. Have some self-worth." The man tells you with a kind tone. "I've seen you around long enough to know that you're kind, and a nice person. Trust me, you can and will find a proper man to love you right. But this?" He shakes his head. "You know he just wants you because you've become routine."

"I know." You repeat again, sighing a little.

"You're not what they say you are. You're just a little soft at heart, hm?" The old guy smiles over his shoulder, watching you unbundled your seatbelt. "Trust me, he won't be sad if you call it quits. I've worked for guys like this for more than thirty years- they'll just jump to the next." He explains, and you smile to yourself, before you nod towards the man. "Never mess with entertainers, sweetheart. They'll always break your heart." he offers.

"I know." You say once more, before you exit the car, and get on your way to Jungkook's hotel room.

You don't officially share one, but he still keeps you around for most of the night. You leave whenever he has to do a livestream or if he wants to go to bed, and you come back if he wants you to- but most nights you sleep alone, because he deems it too intimate for you to stay.

Apparently, sleeping in the same bed is more intimate than spitting on your cunt. Interesting.

When you knock on the door, Jungkook opens. Something's off, you notice it right away, but you don't dwell on it, don't answer. It's none of your business, and he won't tell you anyways, so what's the point in just further inducing his bad mood.

It's quiet as he moves around, since he doesn't talk to you, and you don't know what to say. You wait for him to make his move, and when he doesn't, you get up to grab your sweater you forgot in his room earlier, just to have him stand behind you, hands on your hips. "I didn't forget about you." He chuckles, and you let the fabric slip out of your fingers and back onto the floor as he kisses the crook of your neck.

Maybe jungkook is indeed using you. But you've started to use him just as much, if only to even out the odds, and make yourself feel more than just cheap company.

He slips out of his shirt. You raise your arms to help him take off yours, your naked skin at this point almost a requirement for him every time he takes you. He used to be satisfied with just fucking you somewhere quiet quick and simple to quench his thirst, but over the course of time now nearing an entire year, he's become more and more hungry. Like he wants to crawl underneath your skin at some point, the Idol constantly pushes himself more and more inside your body, not just in a sexual sense. He buys you clothes he thinks will look good on you, has a playlist just for when you're at his place filled with somber lovesongs more about heartbreak than anything else. He claims he didn't look up the lyrics, but you know he's lying. He knows a lot more english than he admits, just so he can pull the 'I don't understand' card whenever he's asked a question he doesn't want to answer.

He lets you wear his clothes without much comment by now, has gifted you jewelry he's worn and liked, laughs any mention of that being 'such a sweet gesture' off if anyone around him mentions it. He's not your boyfriend, but he surely is starting to act like it- maybe the lines are blurring for him just as much as they do for you?

People around you have started betting. On when he's gonna have another one, when you'll be 'swapped out' for something else, or at what point he's gonna make it official that you're indeed more than just nightly company. You don't await that day. It's never gonna come anyways.

"Turn around." He commands, and you do, because that's the easiest way to get where you want to be down the line. Head empty, no thoughts left, fucked stupid by a man who keeps you around for just your body and the familiarity you provide. You don't really mind any longer, long having stopped caring about emotions that are fruitless, bound to rot and die because Jungkook won't ever nurture anything you'd try and plant in his heart. He doesn't want it, and doesn't need it either- if he wants to feel loved, he just has to show his face to his millions of fans always on edge for more content. That's where he gets his love from. Maybe you're just there to feed other desires he can't have fulfilled like that.

He licks his lips as he gazes over your naked upper body, bra long undone by his hands on your back, fingers trained in the routine by now. You remember the surprise he'd shown you when you'd worn one with the clasp up front, face so soft and round for just a second that it felt like you'd just slipped into a dream- but his hunger had quickly returned, because Jungkook is a beast never satisfied. He craves more and more, constantly aims for absolute euphoria, never soft, never gentle.

Jungkook bites. He claims, grips, holds and pushes- he's aware over the physical strength he holds over you, and plays around with the fact almost every night. From tugging on your leg to pushing your head down whenever you decide to please him with your mouth instead for once. Something about the way you swallow around him and swirl your tongue always makes him feral, thighs trembling as the muscles spasm beneath the skin from the force of his orgasm. Maybe that's why he keeps you around. Because you can keep up.

His own shirt is shed, and his hands make quick work of his belt before he helps you out of your pants as well. He'd told you he didn't want to use the bed tonight, because asking for new sheets is always awkward, but he does it anyways- picks you up just to let you fall onto the bed, crawling over you. "What do you want?" You ask out of breath, but he just tilts his head in familiar habit, until it shakes no.

"Don't know yet." He answers. This is new.

Usually he always has a fixed scene set out, knows how he wants to take you right away, but this time he visibly seems unsure where to start. Almost like the first time.

He spits in his hand, doesn't bother taking off the rings, fingers working you up like it's second nature. He knows where to place them, how to move and what patterns to choose- and you don't bother thinking about the possible reason for it. Probably to get you wet and ready quick so he can get to the actual act itself, or maybe he just finds some sort of personal satisfaction from it. You're not sure- and neither do you really want to ask.

You're a little cold, but he'll warm you up soon. Hopefully you won't get sick like last time. Will he find someone else to fuck if you're unavailable?

Who knows. He surely has a lot to choose from, if he so much as asked.

He's got a question on his mind, but visibly contemplates on asking it. His teeth clamp down on his bottom lip, tongue playing with the twin piercings placed there for a second, before he leans in, kisses you. This is one of those things he does that are just outright cruel to you. His kisses full of fever and want feel so burning hot that you're sure you're marked by them for life. Like a signature he's inked underneath your skin almost he claims you again and again like this, with his tongue teasing yours, mouths open and ready to steal each other's breath.

He surely takes yours hostage, every time- and that's probably the smallest crime he commits.

"Have you eaten today?" He asks, and it catches you off guard, eyes opening again, painfully tugged back into reality where he lets his sticky hand run over your abdomen, just to settle on your hipbone. "Your stomach keeps growling." He teases, and you come crashing down. Of course. He'd never actually remember to ask that out of the blue if it wasn't for something reminding him about it.

"Not really." You respond, adjusting your position a little bit, legs trying to pull him closer. "Doesn't matter." You say, and he hums, leaning down again to mouth at your neck- probably marking his territory again, a joke made on a constant whenever you turn up with the blooming bruises on your skin, their origin more than obvious.

"Hm." He hums, almost dissatisfied, but you don't bother to think about it. He moves to lean off the side of the bed, pulling his suitcase closer to get himself a condom, opening the package easily before he rolls it over his length. He seems oddly soft tonight, in more ways than one. Is he still exhausted from the shooting? Could be. He never wants to admit himself that he has to take breaks, thinks that his body can just magically manifest strength from nothing but pure thought, and it used to irritate you, because you felt responsible, in a way. But that was when you still saw more in this than there actually was- nowadays, it's his business, not yours. He's got nutritionists and personal trainers who get paid for taking care of him. It's not your job.

What is your job, really?

Well, you're most certainly not working under his company any longer, and neither have you returned to your original agency either- simply because Jungkook's management deemed you too much of a danger in your position, after the idol had let it slip that you two were having sex on a regular basis. So you just signed an NDA, got paid for your silence, now earning a living by writing books. Modern fantasy novels, where the daydreams you once had can actually become reality, and your hopes and wishes can be dreamed of by other people who have the same.

It's good money. A hobby you cherish.

Jungkook has never asked you what you work as nowadays. He doesn't even visit your apartment, has never seen it before, and he doesn't know if you have family either. He just takes you as his, lets you live alongside him and entertains you whenever he's in the mood for it. And you let him, because these days, he's all you've got. There's not much else you can do than write all day at home or accompany him on his overseas schedules.

You're not sure why he always drags you along, when back home, he won't even call you for days. Maybe he doesn't have to? Maybe his bed at home is always warm. But if that's the case, why not take them on a trip once in a while? Does he have designated women for specific occasions?

Then who will the woman be he chooses to show to the public one day? Number three in his harem?

You can't even truly blame him. As someone he grew up in this industry, his view on the world is warped, shifted, not the same colors as yours. He doesn't feel the same worth in a simple banknote that you do, he can't understand the struggle of missing the bus or having to face an empty fridge.

"Sit up, baby." He tells you, chuckles when you struggle a little to do so- compared to him, flying around all the time actually does take a toll on you. And the petname doesn't make it any better in this moment, as his hands reach out to hold you steady, helping your legs over his thighs, before he guides the head of his cock into you. He wants you close tonight it seems like. Hopefully he keeps holding you, because you're not very energetic this time. "I've got you." He says, and you nod, resting your arms around his neck, hands faintly touching the skin of his back. "Are you cold?" He wonders.

"A bit." You respond. He's probably noticed your icy fingertips.

"I'll warm you up." He purrs, and you nod. You know he will. He always does- always hot hearted in everything he does, even in this. He holds you close, hands on your behind helping you move, your hips rolling a bit too slow for his liking, but he overlooks it for once. You're not sure what's up with him tonight. This isn't him. "You tired, baby?" He wonders, and you nod.

"Sorry." You tell him, but he shakes his head, moves to lay you down, knees pressed into the soft hotel bed mattress as he thrusts his hips forwards.

"It's alright." He brushes it off. "Flight was long as hell." He muses, lazily moving himself. You're enjoying this, even if it's odd for him to behave this way. "Wanna come over for breakfast tomorrow morning?" He asks, and you shake your head.

"Can't." You sigh, arms now moving to lay above your head, eyes closed in bliss. "I fly out back home at 8 tomorrow." You remind him, and you can't see the way his brows lower, face darkening as he realizes he didn't know that. You usually fly back after him. Why are you going home sooner this time?

"Why?" He huffs out, hands grabbing your legs as he pulls your thighs over his, pushing himself deeper now. "You always fly after me." He almost growls.

"I dunno.." You slur. "Management said." You just respond. Why does he seem so irritated by this? It's not a huge deal at all if you fly back sooner or later. He's not gonna call you up back home anyways, so why does it bother him so much.

"Management can go fuck themselves." He argues. "You fly after me. I'll book the flight myself if I have to." he demands practically, slight irritation causing him to have his energy boil up, position adjusted as he becomes more restless, balls smacking loudly against you cunt, pace a lot more ruthless now.

You're finally reaching it. Your head becomes fuzzy.

You don't notice Jungkook becoming almost.. satisfied from that sight of your tension finally leaving. You're nothing but whimpers of pleasure as he slips out of you, hands tugging and pushing your legs and body to have you on your side, the taller Idol now laying down on his side behind you to spoon you, dragging the head of his length through your soaked and slicked up folds. one hand holds up your thigh, helps in opening you up, though you're pretty much gaping from his girth stretching you out moments prior. His lips find your shoulder, your neck, as he pushes himself back inside with the help of your hands-

who suddenly do something new as well, tugging the condom from his cock, making him gasp out in sensitivity. "What're you doing?" He grows.

"IUD." You tell him. "Please-" You beg, and yet again he moves as if awakened from slumber, pushing you halfway on your stomach as he pushes the now bare head of his cock back inside you. This is most certainly new, and he knows for a fact, that he's never going back again.

"Fuck.." He almost laughs, leaning over you now, body covering yours as he just pushes himself in for a good moment, humming a sound of pleasure into your neck as he lets himself relish in the new sensation. "Ah-" He sighs out, before he clenches his jaw, thrusting hard as if to make sure your body will remember him for days to come.

It will. Sadly.

"God, fuck-!" He groans out, holding onto your body now, having turned you onto your side, hand reaching out adjust your arm so he can see your face. Your lips are parted, eyes closed in bliss, and he can't help but have his hand smack down onto your behind that's moving in a way that's way too inviting. He does it a second time, slap clearly heard as he smirks at the way you clench around his cock currently rearranging your insides. He moves your leg to rest over his shoulder, reaching even deeper, hand underneath your belly button pressing where he can faintly feel himself move.

No one can blame him for being absolutely obsessed with your body.

He can feel the way you begin to tighten, thighs shaking a little as you come undone, his hands moving your legs again to close them once more, holding them up, slipping out of your clenching cunt to push his cock right between your soft and wet thighs. it's enough for a moment, though you reach out to touch the tip poking through almost teasingly, making him laugh as he suddenly sighs out, groaning as he spills over your stomach and up your chest. You're breathing heavily, and don't notice you start to shiver, as he parts from you to turn on the light in the bathroom to clean up.

Aftercare is not really his thing- and you've come to accept that.

When you sit up, you stretch your arms in front of you, muscles slowly regaining strength as you wait for Jungkook to finish up, toilet flushing before he emerges again, shamelessly walking without underwear, gaze following you as you walk past him to use the bathroom yourself.

The moment you re-emerge to grab your clothes, he's sitting on the edge of the bed with his boxers back on, phone in his hand. "I booked the flight for you. Tomorrow at 12:30." He tells you as you slip back into your underwear, not bothering with the bra as you search for where he'd thrown your shirt. "Here." He offers- and you slip the garment on with a thanks, only noticing afterwards that that's not yours at all, oversized fabric reaching almost to your knees. "Cute." He comments way too quiet to be meant to be heard, so you don't mention it at all.

"Why is the flight-thing so important?" You wonder, slipping into your socks as he moves around to find the hotel room service menu.

"Because you always fly back after me." He repeats again, clearing his throat.

"…you already said that." You mumble to yourself, but he clearly hears you.

"Fuck alright, god damnit!" He whines in complaint, rolling his eyes. "If you were to fly back earlier, you'll run right into all the paparazzi and shit waiting for me. That's why you're meant to fly back later- so they're gone by the time you arrive." He explains, and you're stunned in the spot you're standing, watching him a bit confused.

So that's the reason?

"It's not like they know." You say, unsure why he's so adamant about it.

"Doesn't matter." He shakes his head. "I'm not having them jump you for whatever reason they might have." He denies, before he sits down in the seat near the window which blinds are shut. "Now what do you wanna eat?" He asks, and you shake your head.

"I'll eat something tomorrow morning." You deny, and he slumps back in his seat, eyes closed and tongue pushed against his cheek.

"What do you want to fucking eat, babe." He repeats, making sure to pronounce the petname before he looks at you with frustration.

"Nothing." You respond. "Are we done?" You ask him, and he shakes his head, setting the menu down before he crosses his arms.

"No." He denies. "What to they call you?" He asks, and you're not sure what he's getting at, shaking your head with brows furrowed in confusion.

"What're you talking about?" You ask, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"What do they call you?" He repeats. "I heard what you talked about in the car when I left."

"How?" You ask baffled.

"Telepathy." He jokes without humor, before he scoffs to himself. "I called you to actually ask you if you wanted to eat something- but you must've accidentally accepted the call without looking, because I clearly listened in on a convo I wasn't supposed to hear." He explains. "Either way, I want an answer. What. Do. They. Call. You." He demands, and you sigh.

"Why does it matter?" You argue, searching for your leggings in the room- finding them over the armrest of the chair he's currently sitting in. "I'm your personal prostitute, just without the pay." You tell him, and it takes him a second to realize that that's your answer.

Suddenly, he wants you out the room.

Not because he doesn't want you here any longer, but because the guilt is eating him alive with ever second he has to look at you. Because the more he think about it, the more it becomes obvious to him that this really must look like just that to everyone. After all, he's just taking you with him apparently for sex, and he's become so comfortable in it that he didn't think about it any longer. It's what you want too, right?

Jungkook has never really learned how to convey his emotions properly. He doesn't know what it's like to fall in love, has no idea what to look out for. He likes spending time with you, and enjoys the sex to the point that he's been monogamous with only you for the past year or so. It's nice to be in a relationship, even though he knows this one isn't normal. It's still okay, because down the line, you understand each other. He likes you, he just doesn't want people to use that against him or you at some point- so he keeps your status to himself. No one needs to know you're a couple. Only you and him. Because.. you know that, right?

"You know that's not what you are to me, right?" He asks, and you shrug.

"Does it matter?" You ask. "It's none of my business who I am to you, or whoever you screw apart from me." You say.

"What?" He asks, crossed arms unraveling. "I'm not fucking anyone but you." He says.

"Cool." You say.

"Cool? That's it?" He argues. "How can you be so calm about everyone else telling you I'm apparently cheating on you?" He worries, and you're yet again confused.

"What're you talking about?" You ask. "That's got nothing to do with cheating." You say.

"No no no no whoa there. Stop for a second." He holds his hands out as if to soothe a raging crowd of people, looking at the carpet. "You- you do know we're in a relationship, right?" He asks you, and your face tells him everything he needs to know. "Oh my fucking god are you kidding me…" He complains into his hands, covering his face in frustration.

"How the hell was I supposed to know?" You say, now with your own arms crossed. "Jungkook, you rarely even talk to me when we're back home. You only take me with you when you've got something up overseas, you constantly tell people we're just friends, you've never even asked me out in the first place!" You argue.

"We've been fucking each other for almost a year, I thought it was obvious I liked you?!" He whines, looking at you with what you realize are tears brimming on his waterline. Why is he so emotional now? "Have you- did you see anyone other than me?" He asks quietly, and you shake your head.

"No." You deny.

"Okay. Fuck- okay." He takes a deep breath, swallows down his panic. "I like you. I don't- I've got no clue if it's love or not because I don't know, alright? But I like you, a lot, to the point where I want us to be something permanent." He tries to explain. "Just us. You and me." He underlines, and you shrug.

"Jungkook, it's not that easy." You sigh. "If this has been what you think a relationship is like, then we won't work out."

"Alright, then what do you need me to do?" He argues, not letting go. "God- fuck, tell me what do I have to do to make you stay?" He asks, voice cracking.

"Jungkook, calm down-" You start, but he shakes his head, swallows thickly, bottom lip quivering for just a second before he licks over it, pulls it in between his teeth.

"I can't-! Not when it sounds like you're gonna leave me-" He worries.

"I'm not, don't worry. I'll stay. Just.. breathe for a second, alright?" You ask, getting up to walk closer, pushing his shoulders back to force him out of his slumped over position. "Hey- okay?" You ask, and he instead pulls you closer, sits you onto his lap, before he clings onto you, resting his forehead in your shoulder. "Why do you never reach out to me when we're home? You're confusing me." You gently tell him, and he shrugs.

"I'm scared they'll see you." He sniffles. "If they do- they'll tear you apart." He sighs. "When we're out here, like this- I can just.. claim you're staff, whatever. But at home- I can't.. I don't know how to protect you." He shakes his head.

"You should've told me." You sigh, leaning into him. "I was hurt, you know?" You tell him.

"I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry." He apologizes, pulls you just a bit closer. "I don't know what to do." He whines.

"What if you just visit me instead?" You offer. "They don't know where I live. And my windows are all mirrored so no one can look inside." You tell him.

"…since when?" he asks, leaning away from you a little so that you can finally see his face again, eyes red, a stray tear escaping him that you wipe off.

"Since a few months ago? Jungkook you don't even know my apartment in the first place. You've never visited me at all, ever!" You laugh, and he sighs.

"I know, and I.. always wanted to, you know, visit you.. spend time with you but.." He runs a hand over his face.

"You're okay. We talked about it now." You nod, an action he copies. "I'll come back tomorrow morning and we can have breakfast together, okay?" You ask, but he shakes his head.

"No, you gotta stay." He denies. "I don't care if you don't like that, but I need you close tonight." He says.

"Never said I don't." You say. "You just seemed uncomfortable with it." You wonder.

"Because I snore!" He whines, throwing his head back. "I snore, I move a lot, I might cling to you at night or I sweat, or whatever the fuck- I'm not as perfect as I'm made out to be." He complains.

"Jungkook sorry, but what the fuck." You laugh, and he can't help but smile at the sight and sound of you happy. "You can fart and burp like whatever, and I'd still stay. You're human, I'm not perfect either!" You explain, but he shakes his head, leaning forwards to kiss your already blossoming bruises on your neck.

"No, you are." He says. "You're absolutely perfect." He argues.

"Not really." You deny.

"Stop arguing." He complains, squeezes your waist a bit.

"What're you gonna do about it?" You tease, and he looks up at you with a heated gaze.

"Get me nice n' hard and I'll show you." He responds, making you giggle with eyes rolling, as you lean back to tug him out of his underwear, a hiss leaving him. "Fuck, baby your hands are icy!" He laughs, leaning back to hold your legs so you don't slip off of his thighs.

"That's cause it's cold in here!" You joke back, warming your hands up on his already heated length, skin already flushed and swelling as the blood rushes back. His hands travel beneath the shirt you wear, softly grabbing at the flesh of your chest, making you get up to shed your underwear and get back onto his lap.

"Think you can ride me on this thing?" He asks, talking about the seat he's sitting in. "Kinda tired right now, won't lie."

"Huh, making me do all the work now?" You raise your brows. "And here I thought you wanted to take us seriously.." You sigh, attempting to joke- but he clearly doesn't take it as such, face becoming serious again.

"Lift your hips a little." He demands, and you do so- unsure what he's trying to do, before he spits into his hand once more, feeling you up between your legs to check if you're ready. You are- quickly slicking up at the thought of him, and he guides his length inside of you again, stretching you out once more, but this time, it's not just sex.

He refuses to move. He just helps you settle on his lap, but holds onto your hips, keeping you from moving. "Jungkook-" You whine, but he shakes his head, and pulls your face closer to kiss you.

"No, I wanna stay like this for a bit." He denies.

"But I thought we wanted to eat something later?" You ask, making him roll his eyes.

"I'm trying to be romantic here." He complains.

"By putting your dick inside me?" You ask.

"Well I don't know what else to do!" He whines. "I.. I don't really know how else to properly express.." He falls deep into thought for a second or two, before he finally says it. "I don't know how else to make sure you can.."

"..feel how much I love you."

You're quiet for a good while, watching how he rather looks at your neck than at you in particular, avoiding eye contact as he continues to move his hands back to your sides underneath your shirt. "Jungkook…" You mumble, and he cringes.

"Don't-" He sighs, clicks his tongue in irritation. "-don't pity me or something-" He begins.

"No no no I'm not pitying you I just-" You cut him off, now your hands holding his cheeks to force him to look at you. Because you just realized something in the things he's said earlier. "Remember how you said.. you want me to fly back after you?" You ask, and he nods.

"Yeah." He answers, his way warmer palms now taking yours from his face, holding them in his. "Of course."

"That's.. something that also shows that you care about me." You say. "Because, you didn't say that you were worried about someone spotting me and putting your career on the line- but that you were worried about me being in danger." You remind him, and he nods. "Or how you noticed my stomach growling, and wondered if I ate today." You giggle.

"I already wondered if you didn't- cause I didn't see you eat anything." He shrugs.

"See?" You hum towards him, running your hand through his hair. "That shows you care, too." You say.

"But I want you to feel it." He complains stubbornly. "I want you to.. feel the same as I do when I'm around you." He offers.

"Horny?" You ask, and he rolls his eyes, throwing his head back.

"That too-" He laughs. "But mostly.. just, I don't know." He takes a deep breath. "It's hard to explain. It's like chest constricts when I'm not around you. Whenever I'm home, I miss you so bad that I sometimes go to sleep early just to avoid giving in and calling you. I have to distract myself just to not think about you- and yet I still do, almost all the time." He sighs, tucking your hair behind your ears. "When I wake up.." He hums, hands moving to your shoulders. "When I do my morning routine.." He explains, letting his fingers travel over the length of your arms. "When I work out.." He continues. "When I go to bed. It doesn't matter at all." He shakes his head.

"You know you don't have to make up something just to make me stay, right?" You ask him, and at that, his eyes immediately snap back up to you, panic returning.

"I'm not." He denies instantly. "I'm really not-" he urges. "-how can I prove it?" He worries.

"You.. listen, it's not something that you can just clear up in a moment." You sigh. "It's gonna take time. We're basically starting from scratch here." You explain, and he nods.

"Do you.. should we stop then?" He asks, glancing between your bodies for a second. "Until you believe me?" He wonders, and you shrug, before you shake your head.

"No." You deny. "I'd miss you too much-" You tell him, before you adjust your legs, arms around his neck. "-And you'd probably go insane without sex." You tease.

"Not without sex." He denies, watching how you begin to move your hips, letting him slip out until just the very tip remains inside you. "But without you." He clarifies. "It's not sex I want- that's a… I don't know. It's the closeness I feel, you know?" He sighs when you sink back down. "I just like touching you.. being inside you.." He hums, eyes fluttering closed as he leans back into the seat while your hands settle on his shoulders to keep you balanced, pace slow but fast enough to intensify the pleasure you both feel. "Just like that.." He sighs out in bliss.

"I have a really nice couch, you know?" You hum towards him, making him smile while his hands find your waist. "My bed is really big too.." You tell him, and he opens his eyes a little at that.

"Big enough for two?" He wonders, and you shrug.

"Guess we have to find out." You tease, and he nods, hands moving from your waist to your hips before one of them finds your heat between your legs where he can see his cock disappearing inside you.

"Is the couch sturdy?" He wonders, fingers playing with your clit now, making the muscles in your thighs twitch.

"Ah- yes!" You whine, picking up your pace.

"Hm, gonna fuck you on it then." He chuckles. "Stress-test it." He jokes, and you whimper as you come undone, your slick now coating his own legs, strings of the sticky fluid keeping you both connected, wet sounds echoing off the walls of the hotel room. "Break it." He growls, heels on the ground helping him in shifting his hips upwards into you, catching you off guard, your orgasm washing over you in a wave threatening to drown you.

You're shaking, but you still move, needing to feel him reach his high as well, and he does find his own release, spilling whatever he's got left to give, holding you close, kissing whatever skin he can reach from how you're hugging him now, breathing slowly easing again.

And he keeps you like this, uncaring of the food since it's by now too late to order any roomservice anyways.

And for the first time, he actually sleeps next to you, in the same bed-

promising himself to do everything he can to keep you this close, for now and as long as you'll have him.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines

2K notes · View notes

1-800-local-slut · 9 months

Text

Decisions

Rio x Black! Fem! Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, sad ending, lies and deceit, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, broken family, break ups, arguing, reader has a bad mom, mention of smut, kinda creepy Rio, abusive childhood, suicidal thoughts, recreational drug use, mentions of sex but no smut, Rio calls Beth annoying but make no mistake I love me some Beth, slight canon divergence, not proof read we die like men 💪🏾

Rio get’s close to the reader, due to him having an issue with her mother. He falls for her and they start dating but 8 months into their relationship she finds out the first six months of their relationship was a lie. She realizes she can’t trust him and dumps him.

PSA: The reader has an abusive mother and no father, there's only one mention of the reader getting punched in the face. If that's something that would trigger you then please don't read for your own sake

Please let me know if you guys enjoy!

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

When he saw her for the first time, it was dark out. She was standing under the streetlight, waiting for her bus and Rio was standing in the bushes behind her. The light above made her luminescent, giving her dark skin and gorgeous glow. He didn't even know why it shocked him to see her there. He had been waiting for her after all.

It was a chilly April night, she was shivering. Rubbing her hands together and exhaling a puff of cold air. He even remembered thinking that it was weird how cold it was for April. She held her phone in her hand, her headphones lightly bled music. Rio could've stared at her all day, if only he wasn't here on business.

He needed to put some pressure on someone and this was how it needed to be done. Stepping out of the bush, Rio slid close to the target of the evening.

His eyes scanned her up and down, looking for some sort of entry point. She didn't notice him, he wasn't standing too close to her yet. With a final scan, he noticed the Jordan high tops that hugged her feet. Perfect.

Taking another step, a bigger step, he made sure his presence was known. Her eyes glanced up at him, a natural response. She carefully observed him, like she was deciding if she should take a large step away or just ignore him. The leaking music shut off and Rio fought back a smile. Best not to freak her out. It was time to finally put things into motion.

"Those shoes are nice, I was looking for a pair for my cousins quince gift but I couldn't find any in her size." Of course there was no way to start a conversation with a woman this late at night in t he middle of nowhere waiting for a bus without sounding like a creep but Rio was pressed for time.

She raised an eyebrow, and glance him up and down before she glanced at the time. Checking how much time before the bus came, smart.

"Thanks. I picked them up last week." Curt and to the point. Rio admired how quickly she went on the defense.

"They suit you. The color I mean. If you don't mind can I ask where you brought those? I just moved here, and I don't know where anything is." Her plump lips pushed into a straight line as if she was contemplating.

Mentally, he willed her to just go for it. Just take the bait, so the guy he had in the bushes who was about to take a few pictures for evidence could get something.

"Yeah, you just have to head to the store on 83rd. There's a place called Sole Symphony. You can get a good deal if you talk to the right person.

"Oh I passed that place on my drive in. I'm Rio, by the way." Extending his palm, Rio heard the bus pulling up behind them. Sure, he knew her name already. But what if he wanted to know more than just her name?

As she placed her hand in his and said her name, the doors of the bus slid open behind the two.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

"Baby what do you want to eat?" She was leaning on the arm of the couch, while Rio rested his head on her lap. Clad in one of Rio's black t-shirts, and a pair of his boxers that outlined that ass he worshipped. Under the lights of her living room, she still looked radiant.

"What, you can't cook?" Rio teased, only to be playfully swatted on his head.

"Stop being annoying, I'm ordering dinner because someone's stupid self forgot to go to the grocery store."

"I forgot to go because you wanted to play around all day, so had to I come home and handle business." Rio smiled, a true smile. A smile he hadn't had in a really really long time. She giggled and bent her face closer to his, and hummed. She rubbed her thumb over his forehead, in a way that made Rio shudder.

"I only did that because you finished all my weed and then got me the wrong strain. So maybe that's your fault?" Rio rolled his eyes playfully, and accepted the soft kiss she planted on his lips.

It filled him with a warm, thick feeling. If someone made love into soup, it was filling his stomach at this very moment. Giving him a full, heavy feeling that Rio never wanted to lose. After a second they pulled apart and Rio stared deeply into her eyes. She did the same, like she could see Rio baring his soul to her.

Every now and again though, he remembered though that this was merely temporary. He never, and he cannot stress how much he means never, let himself fall for someone he was using for business. Still, some rules were meant to be broken.

Whenever he remembered that fact, when he remembered that once his debt was settled with her mother (the whole reason he approached her at that bus station in the first place), his heart died a bit.

The past four months had been nothing but a mix of stress and bliss. Stress, the stress of accidentally hurting the person who broke into his heart. Bliss, from laying with her just like this. Every night, or going to dinner with her. How six months could change a man so much was beyond him. Just being with her, even if it was technically for leverage. Though he would never hurt her.

Still, if she knew, it would hurt her more than anything. It would be like a knife, piercing her heart before twisting and causing her to bleed out unstoppably.

Realistically, speaking anyone would be. If you knew your drug addict mother got herself in too deep and your boyfriend was only with you for leverage against her, you'd be pretty cut up about it, wouldn't you?

The drug addict mother, who started exhibiting psychotic jealousy at what seemed like the moment you turned 12 , and who punched you in the mouth after you refused to be nice to her new boyfriend, who you fought so hard to get away from after your nightmare of a childhood? Who told you everyday that not only were you not shit but you'd never be shit? The mother you don't even tell people you have, like the father you never met?

How would you feel to find out that after fighting your entire life just to live a life that wasn't filled with filth, bearing your entire being to someone (the only one who knew the truth), that finally when you found happiness none of it was real? All because of the mother who you don't even acknowledge, after fighting tooth and nail to get as far as you could from, was still giving you grief.

It killed Rio to know all of this too. To see the scars that she trusted him enough to explain. To explain why she's afraid to have children of her own, to understand what made her into the beautiful, strong and confident woman she turned into too. How could Rio hurt someone who accepted him so wholly?

It made him sick to think about. Honestly, he felt like a toxic rapper who does his woman wrong and everyone but her seems to know. He felt like the definition of shit.

"...be?"

"Huh?"

"Is thai food alright with you, babe?"

"Yeah. Yeah sorry I just dosed off for a moment." Just like that, her voice was like a light shinning through the dark. Her face reflected concern, and she ran a manicured nail over his cheek. On instinct he clasped her hand in his.

"What's wrong with you?" Her voice an even whisper. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her literally everything, and he meant everything. Everything about himself, not the partly fabricated tale he told her about his life for the sake of keeping her at an arms length.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Rio gave a small chuckle.

"Nah just thinking about you mamas." Rio smirked up at her and saw her playful eye roll.

"Boy, if you don't do something with yourself." She laughed with a the smile he'd fallen in love with, pinching him on his chest and he winced before letting out a laugh. Rio grabbed his pants from the side of the couch where he hastily threw them when he came home to 'handle business'. Pulling out his wallet, he plucked his credit card out of the folds. He chuckled and handed it to her, where it was gracefully accepted. Within seconds, Rio felt like he could feel the money being pulled from his heart and his card.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, you keep an ear out for the food." She announced, slipping out from underneath him and leaving his head to connect with the couch.

"Without me though?" He watched her walk out of the living room and to her bathroom, sliding the boxers off in the process. If anything she was relentless in her desire to tease him.

"Don't be gross." She chastised, tossing her shirt off behind her and Rio admired her perfect body before she was out of sight and the door behind her closed.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

"Flowers?" Beth raised an eyebrow at the large bundle in the back of his car. Rio glanced back, the flowers and immediate reminder of what was waiting for him right after this. He couldn't even fight the grin. This girl had him feeling butterflies, kicking his feet and giggling when she wasn't even there and it was only eight months.

"For my lady." It was Fall now. The changing leaves reminded Rio of his changing heart, his changing mind. How he changed so much in the last eight months in so many ways that he couldn't even describe.

Coming up on their eight month anniversary and Rio wasn't even close to playing when it came to celebrating. That big ass bouquet was just the first part. He had a pair of matching necklaces for the two of them, a set of twin cuban links with a nice romantic saying, 'Semper Fidelis' (Always Faithful) carved into them.

Especially since his relationship with Beth had been a recent source of anger between the two. In all fairness, Rio told her he was involved in the stock market, which technically wasn't a lie. She knew he did something illegal though and didn't seem to care as long as neither of them got arrested.

What he didn't explain was what a big tittied white woman was doing calling his phone in the middle of the night and why she sounded so upset when she answered instead of him. Or why there were so many calls between the two of them when Rio was at work when Rio requested she don't blow his phone up when he's at work. Or why when he came home early to have lunch with her he had to leave in the middle because Beth had been blowing his phone up during their entire meal.

Honestly though, Rio knew better than to trip about it. Shit, Rio knew he wasn't even feeling Beth's annoying ass like that. If it was him, some dude called his girl in the middle of the night then had the audacity to sound annoyed when HE answered the phone? He would've flown off the handle before the call even hung up. He'd be out of bed, pulling up his pants and boxers, grabbing his gun and his keys and half way into his shoes.

"You have a girlfriend?" Beth asked, eyes bugging out of her head, mouth open in shock. Why did she look like a salmon?

"You sound shocked. I got game, Elizabeth. Anyways, about your issue tell your FBI man that I hit or whatever." Pushing down the button, she still sat there gaping at him.

"What...?" She blinked, hushing her voice as if someone was gonna hear them. Part of him wanted to tell her to get the fuck out so he could get the fuck home. But in the past eight months, he learned how to have a bit more patience.

"Tell him we made love." Wiggling his eyebrows he made a motion for her to get out of his vehicle and she made her way out. Thank God.

Turning on his engine he winded down the window of the passenger window.

"Make me sound good." And with that he was gone.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

As crazy and inebriated as her momma was for most of her childhood, sometimes she was smart. Like when she taught her how to fight when those girls at school wanted to jump her. Like when she taught her and her sisters to never and she meant NEVER leave your sister in a pinch no matter whats going on between you three. When she taught her how to hot wire a car, and especially when to know if a man was lying.

There were more life lessons, like how to make a crack pipe on the go or how to hide from the police but what can you really learn from someone who was drunk as shit most of your life?

So imagine how shocked and confused she was when she realized 'dang. my momma was right, all niggas are liars.' because her boyfriend had been lying to her their entire relationship? Was it lying or omission? Was she gonna pack her shit and leave without a word to his no-good-low-down-lying-scheming-dirty-bastard self, or put hands on him and go to jail? Lots of decisions for a girl to make in one night. One thing she did decide on the moment she got that phone call from her mom this morning, and got those photos that were taken that first night they met: it was over.

She wished all she felt was anger but that was a lie. With Rio, no Christopher, things were easy. She really was in love, he made her heart swell up like a balloon. When she was at her worse, he was right there and understood and helped her in the best way he could. Understood her anger, understood her sadness. Whatever choice she made, he stood behind it no matter what. He wasn't the type of guy (maybe he could've been, it was clear that she had no clue who he really was) to just sit there and act like he always knew better than you. No, he listened to her, gave her an ear and when she asked for it advice.

This hurt. This wasn't just sadness and betrayal, it was despair. To know that after she fought to get away from her mother. After she got up, walked out that house with nothing but the clothes on her back and said 'if i'm homeless i'm homeless, but its better than being with you' and never saw her again it was only because of that woman that she met someone who she was so head over heels for.

Because of that woman she was sitting here, heart broken. She was sitting here, after sobbing her eyes out in disbelief, after deleting every single picture of the two out of her phone. She was sitting here drowning in rage and betrayal. No. No for once, she couldn't put all the blame on her.

Christopher made the choice to play in her face. He made the choice to waste eight months of her life. To lie, and say he loved her like would be the only woman for him. He probably was cheating on her with that white bitch (with a name like Elizabeth she had to be) and they were probably laughing at her for the past eight months cuddled up together. He made the choice and she fell for it. Outside, the lights of his car pulling up roused some sort of rage deep inside of her. A little voice in her head spoke, it said take a bottle to the backside of his head.

Taking the bottle of liquor next to her, and rearing her arm back over her head she pondered if she was really going to listen to that little voice.

It an easy decision to make.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

"You stupid fuck! Really Christopher, this is what we on?" The scream, and the bottle hitting the wall right next to the door was his greeting. Not a 'hi baby, how was work' like usual. He could already guess he was not about to hit tonight.

"What the fuck? What is your problem?" He yelled back, in this instance he was justified in his screaming considering the murder attempt.

"My problem? My problem? You dickhead, your my fucking problem! You thought shit was sweet? You thought I was just gonna let it slide?" She laughed, anger literally rolling off her.

Taking a moment to look around Rio noticed a few things: the photo of them that was on the table next to her couch was tipped over, the glass shattered the frame on the ground. There was a half empty bottle of wine and a broken glass in the sink. There was a manilla folder, one that he was praying he didn't recognize (but he was starting to think he did), clutched in her shaking hand. Her curly hair was a mess, like she'd been tugging at it in anger.

Sure he knew she'd always been a little bit crazy, he was actually really into it, but did he think this was how their eighth anniversary would start? Nope.

His stomach started to drop. It had been a few months since his business with her mother ended and he was truly hoping from the bottom of his heart hoping she would never find out. He ruled out her mother somehow finally worrying about her enough to tell her.

"What is that?" Rio asked, slamming the door behind him and stepping into the apartment fully. Her neighbors only needed to hear the first part of their exchange, nothing more. She took three defiant steps backwards. The lights were all off, and only the TV was on.

"Got this in the fucking mail today." She growled, throwing the packet at his face. Clear as day, the pictures he had taken of them. For proof. One the first night they met, two on their first date, three when they went to the arcade together and played every game you both could manage and he found himself really trying to impress her. That was when he realized her had a bit of a problem. Then a few more, but eventually they stop after the first two months of their relationship.

The next four months of them being together he resorted to threats and by some miracle her mother found a way to pay off her debts and he was done with her by month six. But not using her for only two out of eight months of their relationship was not a good look.

An awkward silence settled over the two, his stomach feeling heavy. He started to feel warm from shame and fear. The room felt like it was spinning and his mouth felt dry. Even before she said it he knew that he just lost the best thing in his life.

"And some phone calls. Not only did you fucking use me, you also threatened my mom and found my sisters houses?! You dickhead, I'll kill you." She roared, throwing a near by object, which he narrowly dodged.

"Why did you play in my fucking face? For eight fucking months you decided to play in my face and be laid up with me and act like you love me, are you serious?" His head hung low, shame and disappointment and anger. Anger because he knew one thing for sure, this was no ones fault but his. He made the decisions he made. That was on no one but him.

"What you can't fucking talk now? You don't know words? But when that hoe Beth called you could sit up on the phone with her about bullshit right?" She yelled. Rio couldn't even find words. Where should he even start? Beth seemed like the worse place to start.

"Right?" She yelled again, getting in his face before stepping back and breaking into deranged laughter putting a hand on her forehead in outrage. He was panicking. What did he do? Yell at her when he knew he was wrong? Yell at himself for hurting her? What was he even supposed to do in a situation like this? A dry and tear-filled laugh shook him from his thoughts.

"Why though? Why did you do this, I trusted you. I gave you my heart, I gave you my fucking everything. If you can't trust you, then what can I trust?!" The broken sob cut through Rio like a knife. She threw her arms out and drunkenly staggered a bit. She stared, eyes pleading for an answer. An explanation. Anything? But for the first time in a long ass time, Rio had no idea what to say. He felt his palms sweat, gaze still fixed on the photos.

She would never smile at him the way she was in those pictures again. And she grinned as bright as the Sun in each photo except for the first.

When she was still met with silence, Rio resigned. He wanted to say something. Damn, why couldn't he speak? Why was he just sitting there? She was just as confused (surely more confused) as Rio.

"I can't believe this. I let you in and you really sat there and played with me. And you really don't got shit to say either? Well guess what nigga, it's done. I'll die before you hear my voice again, before you ever seem me again. And I could sit up here and yell and scream at you but you know what my momma taught me? As worthless as she was she taught me one thing: the best way to hurt a man is to move on. Get the fuck out." And just like that, before Rio could even say a word it was all over.

The next few minutes were a blur. A trash bag with all his shit was thrown out the window after he was shoved out of her apartment. All the gifts he'd gotten her, the shoes, the jewelry, even her cart that had her name custom printed on it, were tossed out there too. Rio sat out there, outside her apartment complex for what felt like hours.

Shit it probably had been hours. The flowers in the back taunted him. He wanted to stomp on them, he wanted to kick and scream at the world. Why did he fucking do that? For his job of course. Fuck that job, look where it got him. Standing outside the apartment of the love of his life.

Worse, he didn't even speak to defend himself, and she tossed him out so quick that it left his head spinning. He wasn't even sure how he walked to the elevator and made his way to his car. He wanted to die, he wanted to collapse, he wanted to go all the way back in time and tell himself to call off everything and meet her some other way. Now he lost everything that could've been lost to him.

And it was all because of his decisions.

Taglist:

@eddiemunsonreader

#black reader #x reader #fem reader #x black reader #rio x reader #rio good girls fanfiction #nbc good girls #rio good girls

344 notes · View notes

skeleton-mischief · 6 months

Text

❤️🌹UF!Papyrus x Reader🌹❤️

This is the second half of my self indulgent x reader/yn posts for the UF!Brothers so please tell me what you think or who I should post about next! Thank you for your time :)

Receiving:

- Words of Affirmation: 33%. He wants to be told he's appreciated, that he's loved. To have his partner check in and validate how he feels or compliment sincere things about him has him faltering because wow they actually mean it

- Physical Touch: 23%. Gentle brush against his cheek, hugging him, or holding him when he's tired despite acting like he doesn't care makes him feel safe. Feeling their hands rub over his own gives him a sense of intimacy he craves

- Acts of Service: 23% Doing something to relieve him of stress, rubbing his back, or giving him a massage when he's tense fills him with appreciation. He's stubborn and independent, but if you offer to clean or cook with him? Teamwork is pleasant

- Quality Time: 13% He doesn't mind if he can't have time with you to himself, it's not too much of a bother. He appreciates when he gets it though, since that's when he can be vulnerable with you

- Receiving Gifts: 7%. Don't worry about getting him gifts, and if you do just make sure to get one for Doomfanger. He appreciates a bouquet at times though

Giving:

- Acts of Service: 37% so what if he's busy? He'll offer to run errands for you, help with chores, and even coax you that he'll handle it. He wants to make things less stressful for you

- Physical Touch: 30% He'll ruffle your hair, wrap an arm around you, or even set you in his lap so that he can help you rest. He'll make sure no one wakes you up

- Quality Time: 13% He'll make sure you both go on dates, to pamper you. Let him treat you to a nice outing, he wants to show that he wants days alone with you

- Words of Affirmation: 10% he's not the most vocal about his affection, but he will tell you that you did well on things or praise you to others when you come up

- Receiving Gifts: 10% Don't even try to argue that what he buys for you is expensive, you deserve it. He'll remember all the things you like, and make sure to pamper you when you go shopping

_______________________________________________

Details:

He's very closed off emotionally, but being sincere with him and coaxing him to be more relaxed is a way to start. He appreciates a lover who checks in on him and shows kindness and patience when it comes to how he acts. He will have to be shown respect, and you have to show why he should respect you. He likes someone who's confident, someone who at least can defend themselves or those they love. He appreciates someone who's open-minded, and is respectful when that person doesn't treat him like shit when they first meet. He's hard to talk to because he dances around how he feels, always acting like he doesn't care or that he's indifferent about trivial matters such as drama. He doesn't bother to interact around drama, especially if you aren't close. However, he's willing to take care of you

Overtime he'll start to do small favors or want to see you specifically for an opinion. He can be very blunt, but overall theatrical too. People don't like that he's blunt, but he doesn't realize that he can be borderline rude in the process. If someone is willing to be patient, he will appreciate them and work on himself. Though, you may not see the differences he makes since it takes time and acute attention. Doomfanger also has to approve of you. He thinks that it is very important that you get her approval. If she doesn't like you, then good luck getting Pitch to be interested.

Getting this guy to realize that he has a crush on you would be a challenge. He would have to develop a strong friendship with you first. When he's romantically interested, even if he doesn't realize it, he'll practice being a gentleman and he tones down a lot when it comes to his theatrical behavior. He'll deny that he thought of you when he gets you something, or find any reason to explain his affection. He'll accidentally let it slip if you thank him, his eye lights widening and going "wait, really??" To a sudden cough and a "i MEAN-! Of course you do, I have excellent tastes."

When he starts to become aware of how he feels, his throat tightens and he feels his soul starts to act weird. He would actually first think that he's dying, or that he's troubled with sickness. In fact, it would have to be pointed out by someone he can talk to in order to realize how he feels. If it's Cyperus, he's told directly "have you considered that you might be in love?" Or if it's Lunar, he is teased with "oh of course you must be terribly sick. It's not like you would actually just be in love, right?" And he'd stoke a confession out of Pitch to make him realize. He would struggle to confess, and in fact he can be pretty restrained when he realizes how he feels for you. He stumbles, his cold persona crumbles. He finds himself doing things, letting his guard down. No, that can't be the case. He can't actually be in love, right????

When it comes to dates, he's a huge romantic and will take you to fancy restaurants or to the theatre, the opera, a play, or orchestra. He hopes you don't find them lame. He doesn't aim to please you in every aspect, but he wants approval from you. Hell be happy if you ramble about the date and you can gossip about the actors. He'll start to dress you up and tend to you while scolding you lightly. He's protective and overall willing to confront someone if they bother you. He's less discreet than the others, calling them out on their behavior and demands an apology. He'll only be pleased if they do so, and then he'll talk shit afterwards. He's intimidating, and he won't be afraid to get physical if they dare try to. He doesn't expect to be thanked and he doesn't do it just because you're lovers. He cares about you, and no one should be acting that way to begin with. It's a moral principle. If he's thanked, he'll brush it off and instead make sure to check on you physically even if you weren't touched. If you're shaken, he'll wrap you in his jacket or scarf and then gently rub your back before he takes you home without a word.

His confession sounds more like a promise, if anything. He would have to be alone with you, for starters. Imagine being up late at night, and you were having a busy day. Pitch would be the one to pick you up, especially since he would've shown more anxiety in where you are so late. When he picks you up, he'd start to scold you. After all, you should be home! But then he'd notice something. You're more quiet, and he recognizes that look on your face. He would be unsure of how to react, especially since you never let yourself be seen like this when around just him. Cyperus would be much better for this, he thinks. He obviously is the better one to go to. But then again, you chose to let him pick you up over Cyperus. You even thanked him when he picked you up. It would be quiet in the car for a while.

As you stare out the window on the way home, you suddenly notice that this isn't the way home. You'd turn to ask what he's doing, but he'd only give you a vague response. He decided that you need to go somewhere, you clearly would struggle answering questions from the other skeletons if you went home right now. You two would drive around town for awhile, hearing him mumble incoherently to himself. It would be then that he suddenly thinks of a place to take you.

He would park near the park, and gently coax you to join him. He'd scold you that you should've dressed warmer, but only gently. He'd wrap his scarf around you, move his jacket to rest over your shoulders. You two would walk, and it would be quiet. He struggles knowing how to comfort someone, how to get you to feel better. He would ask what's wrong, but he would only pry a bit if you don't open up immediately. He'd tell you that you won't feel better if you don't talk to someone, and it's okay if you don't want to talk to him about it. He'd confess that he just...wants to know if you're okay and if he's useful in any way. It's okay if you want to talk to someone else, and he knows that he's not great at this.

He'd have this softened look, but there clearly is a concealed vulnerability he is expressing. After a bit, you'd slowly talk to him and reassure him that you actually appreciate what he's doing. He took you out for a walk to clear your thoughts, considered how you'd be overwhelmed if you went home, and even checked up on you without demanding to know.

You'd take his hand, the roughness of his scars dipped into by your fingertips as you rubbed the back of his hand. He would tell you to stop that, he's supposed to be the one to check up on you. But you can see that he appreciates the reassurance, that he is listening to what you're saying. After some talking, you would open up a bit to how you're feeling. You felt like he cared to know now, after all. He would say some stuff that isn't the typical comforting words, like how he asks if you want him to fight for you. He'd talk shit about what bothered you, and tell you that you should've punched someone or that you should've cursed someone out.

He'd accidentally get you to laugh but not understand, not until you tell him. He's just- different. But that's a good thing. You appreciate that he was able to be supportive, that he was almost defending you and reacting how you would've reacted if you were less reasonable. At this he'd kinda seem offended, but you can tell he isn't taking it badly. "What?? Are you saying that I'm wrong? Clearly, I'm right! How dare you laugh," which would only get you to laugh some more. "You insult me." But you don't realize that as you're laughing, he's looking at you with a gentleness that is unfamiliar to anyone.

Time would pass, and you didn't realize that he walked you near a pond that's in the park. It's illuminated by fairy lights since the wooden fencing around the park is decorated. You'd be in awe and thank him. He would take it in stride and tell you that it's only reasonable he took you somewhere that could clear your mind.

At some point, you both sit together, and he gently asks if you enjoyed tonight. You'd tell him that yes, this was genuinely a nice time. You would be suddenly surprised as he turns to look at you intently, but not with that determined and rough look he always has. He'd take your hands in his own gently, since he doesn't want you to get accidentally clawed or have his chipped scars scrape you. He'd speak very softly, confess that he's happy that he is able to be there for you.

In truth, he knows that he's not someone you may go to a lot, but he always wants to do right by you. He wants to be someone you can rely on; he promises you that he'll do his best to make sure that you're happy and safe. He'd hesitantly lower his skull and nuzzle his cheek against one of your hands before looking at you, his defenses down. He tells you that you don't have to know how to feel now, or have anything to say since he's never made such a confession of loyalty to someone, at least among the others.

He'd take you home after that, and make sure that your conversation with him remains private, telling the other skeletons that he just picked you up and made sure that you felt better after such a long day. It was technically the truth, but he didn't mention any details to avoid further prying. With everything, he'd wish you goodnight, and that would be that. Truly, it was an eventful night

Closing Notes: I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I wa

#headcanon #undertale au #alternate universe #uf papyrus #fell papyrus #fell papyrus x reader #uf papyrus x reader #pitch x reader #pitch serrif #he is bbg #i love him #i want him #please hear me out #hes so fine #roomate au

31 notes · View notes

hinatastinygiant · 10 months

Text

6 | Mort

Pairing: Uzui x Fem!Reader

The Emptiness You Left

UZUI'S P.O.V.

"So," Rengoku hums as we step into my home, "that was the infamous Y/N. She's an interesting character."

"More like an irritating character," I scoff, walking over to the kitchen and pouring a cup of tea.

"How come you refuse to train her? She has a noble cause, isn't that flashy enough for you? She's even willing to work hard. Isn't that what the demon slayers are supposed to be doing?"

"No," I tell him. "It's not that simple. She's too weak."

"You can't tell me you know how determined she is. It's obvious that she's not going to give up," he says, getting closer to me. "You should at least give her a chance. I mean, it's not like there's anything else you can do. She's not going to give up."

"Why don't you just mind your own business, Rengoku?" I groan, meeting his eyes with a frustrated look in mine.

"Why don't you?" he shrugs. "I mean, you didn't have to take her in."

I sigh, knowing he's right.

"And why are you so against her training anyway?" he continues. "Surely, she'd be able to handle it. I can tell you have some sort of interest in her."

I freeze and my eyes go wide. This idiot can't possibly know what he's talking about. I can feel my blood boil as he continues speaking.

"She's a very beautiful woman," he adds, and my eye begins to twitch. "She could be a great addition to the Demon Slayers Corps."

"She will never be part of the corps," I spit at him, and he chuckles.

"Why are you acting like this?"

"Because I can't let her die!" I finally admit, raising my voice a bit too loudly.

"So what? That's the risk everyone takes when they join."

"It's different, Rengoku. She's not going to survive."

"Is that so?"

"Yes," I huff.

"Well, I mean, if that's your decision then fine," Rengoku finally begins to back off. "But just know that training is a good way to make sure she doesn't die."

Y/N'S P.O.V.

The next morning I wake up, put on my new uniform, and grab the wooden sword that Rengoku gave me. I make sure to take the time to hide it well in my clothes so that Uzui won't notice.

However, just as I walk downstairs, I see the three wives all bundled up in heavy winter clothes.

"Uh, what're you guys doing?" you ask them on your way for a cup of water from the kitchen. "You know it's only autumn still, right?"

"Yeah, but it's freezing," Suma answers, her teeth chattering.

"And snowing," Makio adds.

"Really? Wow, it's almost as if I couldn't see the snow coming out the window," you remark, and she sticks her tongue out at you.

"Are you leaving now, Y/N?" Hinatsuru questions.

"Yes. Do any of you want to train with me today?" you ask hopefully. Usually one of them will agree as long as you do something light. They know better than to get on Uzui's bad side, unlike you.

However, today they all look at each other with an odd look in their eyes. You're not sure what's going on, but you definitely don't have a great feeling about it.

"No, sorry," each one of them says, making you begin to get suspicious.

"Really Suma? Not even if I bring back those strawberries you love so much?"

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but it's too cold for us," she answers, causing the other girls to nod in agreement.

"But you always wear those short dresses," you argue. "I'd love to know how those are any better than pants and a jacket."

The girls don't respond. Rather, they look at you as though you're the crazy one.

"What are you girls talking about?" a voice suddenly asks from behind you. You turn around and see Uzui entering the room, holding a bag full of supplies. "Y/N, where are you going?"

You reach down to the wooden sword hidden beneath your clothes, making sure nothing is poking out. "Oh, I'm just going to, um, pick some flowers," you lie, looking away.

"Flowers?" Uzui repeats, arching an eyebrow. "At this time of year? I don't think so."

You gulp as he grabs onto your arm and pulls you right out the front door. "Today, you've got better things to do. Today, I am going to train you."

Your jaw drops and a smile spreads across your face. "Really?"

"Yes. It's no fun having a weakling living under my roof," he scoffs.

Behind him, you can see Suma giving you a thumbs up. But, before you can say anything else to Uzui, he tosses you two swords with an interesting jagged design.

"These are called Nichirin swords," he tells you, watching as you examine them. "They're only used by demon slayers. But don't think this means that you're actually a member, because you're not."

"They're so cool," you mumble in a barely audible voice.

"Now listen up! Lesson one. An introduction to the rhythm of the breath!" he begins, before starting to explain the importance of connecting with the natural rhythm of your environment.

After he's done speaking, he closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. And, like an idiot, you do the same.

"What the hell are you doing, Y/N?" he suddenly shouts, making you open your eyes and look at him with a stunned expression on your face.

"You took a deep breath, too!"

"You took a breath like a complete child!" he barks. "Don't you know how to breathe at all?"

"How is breathing supposed to be any different than that?!"

"I just showed you," he grumbles, before demonstrating the correct way to inhale and exhale. "Try breathing in sync with the sounds of snow falling."

You're beyond confused. How is any of this going to help you kill a demon?

The Emptiness You Left

24 notes · View notes

latimeria-fell-from-heaven · 1 year

Text

just finished all the endings in the new qin yi event, and jesus were they all rollercoasters. some of these endings weren't all too tragic, although the bad endings certainly did not have a happy ending in mind for the player, as they would either go under qin yi's control or take a parasite with him and remain with him in life and death.

but what stuck out to me the most was how weirdly obsessed qin yi was in keeping the player by his side at all costs, to the point where he literally trapped us in a cave and would send the blue butterfly every day just to have us under his control so that we could remain by his side like we did before.

now, you could argue that he just simply wanted to live a life where he would not have to worry about some poisonous sect breathing down his neck and keeping up some facade about who he truly is. hell, the event even states that the reason why he might have taken in chi xiaoyu, nikki, and us as disciples were so he could feel somewhat normal and complacent. and manipulating those around him with parasites was the only plausible way, in his mind, that he could achieve this goal. although this is still a pretty fucked up way to feel what he wanted to feel.

however, the game goes out of its way to show that qin yi seemed to favor the player much more than our other two companions, to the point where he ran away with us and started his own medicinal business, albeit with the player constantly scolding him for being too lazy and snobby about it. he even tells the player that what they had said in one of the classes they had spoken up in, which he eavesdropped on, made him realize that he could indeed live a different life. they made such an impact on his very being that he was willing to start a new life with us.

this whole event pandered to my qin yi loving ass and i am loving every single moment of it.

#lati speaks #shining nikki #qin yi #sn qin yi #ngl i really like that papergames decided to make the player an important character for once in their events #i hope they do something similar in the future with other characters

57 notes · View notes

fan-a-tink · 7 months

Text

Young Royals S3 thoughts

EP4

Simon tearing up on the bus... I have no words to describe painful it is to watch this.

That hug. Was so overdue. I’m so glad Wille is there. And him saying „I’m so glad to see you.“ - yes please tell Simon how much he is loved!

Sara and Felice looking at each other like the star-crossed lovers they are…

Vincent, why do you have to be like that? This is literally the last thing Simon needs right now. Just, PLEASE, mind your own business!

„You’re so fucking pathetic“ - couldn’t have said it better. And finally, Wille defending Simon as well!

„It’s really a privilege… not a punishment.“ He’s becoming more and more like his mother…

Oh my god they write letters to their future selves? I do that every year - that is sooooo cool :) I really want to know what Simon and Wille wrote… and is it foreshadowing a time-jump?

Oh August is down bad… He’s trying so so hard to reconnect with Sara, and it is kind of adorable… I just wish she’d let someone in (not necessarily August) and could talk to someone and get better…

„The Queen is too unwell to attend the announcement.“ Oh oh oh oh oh…. I really really really hope she’ll get better. Why does everyone only ever get worse?

When Linda suggested moving to Gothenburg, Jan-Olof was like ‚yes, please do!‘ 🙄 this old white man really thinks that would resolve things?

I feel like if Farima had had this talk with Simon and Linda earlier, a lot of the plot of the first three episodes would not have happened. Simon could have avoided the brunt of the online hate perhaps.. Why did no one feel like it might be a good idea to prepare him for what was coming and give him some advice on how best to navigate being so suddenly in the public eye? Like, they seriously trusted Wille to communicate all of that, a sixteen-year old known for being quite impulsive? Simon needs real support from the system, and he was just left to struggle along without it for three episodes… Why did there need to be a stone thrown into his home for anyone to take any action and give any support?!?!?!

Micke apologising for hugging Sara without asking first… it’s small steps, but in the right direction :))

Simon deleting his online profile is like he is deleting himself. I feel so sad for him. And he is just so quiet and resigned. This is not right…

„Serious, traditional, smart and strong young man“ hahahahaaaaaa have you met Wille?

„To love whoever you want is a human right.“ SIMON FOR PRESIDENT!!

But I also get that Wille does not want to be a spokesperson.

That discussion makes me really sad. Like, I do get where Wille is coming from. But Simon just quietly resigning himself to not arguing more because he wants to keep the peace, once again staying silent when he should have the space to express himself - that’s not right….

Love that Vincent has not enough authority to make people listen to him.

„They’ve been mocking me all day. And now they want to demonstrate? And talking about solidarity….“ I agree, Simon, I agree. And they are protesting because they want to keep their privileges, while Simon was at a protest for worker’s rights. That’s two fundamentally different issues really shows all that’s problematic about Hillerska in a nutshell.

No, Wille, don’t join them!

That scene between Simon and Sara really shows that I think a lot between them just needs to be talked about. Like I’m not saying it will resolve their issues, but at least if they were to talk about it together, they might make a little bit of progress? But I guess it’s only episode four and their reconciliation has to wait little longer for plot reasons 😤

It’s so painful how Simon has just become so quiet. Even when he’s singing, he’s kind of lost his voice… This is the worst!!!! Siiiimoooooon!!

300 crowns for a lollipop??!?!

„That sounds like an eating disorder.“ !!!!!!!!!!! I sometimes feel like Simon is the only sane person in this school.

No Vincent, YOU are becoming more boring every day. Your bullying is pathetic. Leave August alone.

„Klumpig“ is my new favourite Swedish word :))

Even Simon’s smiles are quiet now…

„I never want to hurt you, Simon.“ Look into those eyes.

That scene with them by the window is beautiful… But I feel like their peace is so fragile.

The students are just proving that the inspection was necessary. Like this is exactly the kind of behaviour that they wanted to put a stop to, calling them traitors for leaving, stealing someone’s trousers and chanting ‚Show your dick for Hillerska!‘ - just proves once more that you don’t need alcohol for a group dynamic to become toxic.

And NO girls, you don’t get to be mad at Felice for whatever she said or didn’t say during the inspection. And thank you, Maddie, for defending her!

Ok, I’ve changed my mind, I want to have the shot of them waking up next to each other tattooed :) They are so soft… 💜

It must have smelled sooo bad in that room that morning… 😂

Felice and Sara finally talking. Hallelujah!

Felice is a stronger person than I am because I would have forgiven Sara there and then. Scratch that, I have forgiven her long ago. I mean, if you just try to see it from her perspective… There must be some way for them to forgive and move on, right? Hello? Is anyone hearing this?

Simon worrying what to gift Wille for his birthday… „Does he like to take baths?“ Hahahahahahaaaaa this is so accurate, like this is exactly how helpful my advice to my friends was when I was a teenager…. :))

„And just do whatever they say.“ Oh Simon… I completely understand that you just want to stay safe and protect yourself. Like you should. But please also listen to your friends and don’t let go of who you are…

I really love the friendship these three have. I am so glad Simon has them…

Oh no, they’re talking about Erik. Here we go. This is going to be hard.

Malte is acting the shit out of that scene!!! Incredible. But so is Edvin, like there is so much going on in his face without him even saying anything….

„And Erik was there. Erik was there.“

#young royals #young royals season 3 #young royals season 3 spoilers #young royals s3 spoilers #yr s3 spoilers

13 notes · View notes

anarcoqueer1994 · 2 years

Text

It had been one week.

One week since his father found out.

One week since Mr. Harrington, who was supposed to be on a business trip, came home early and found his son cuddling with the town freak on his couch, the town freak who happened to be a guy.

One week since Steve had jumped up from the couch protesting "It's not what you think."

One week since "Harringtons aren't faggots!" and "Get that freak the fuck out of here, you are never to see him again."

One week since Steve saw red at the way his father spoke about Eddie, the most important person in his life. "He is not a freak! Dad, I love him! "

One week since his father charged at him threatening to beat the gay out of him. Bloody lip and black eye covered his face, before Eddie could pull him out of there. Steve still shouting as they left "I love him! I love him."

One week since his father screamed back "I never want to see you again!"

One week since Eddie decided he would come back with Nancy(and her guns if need be) to get Steve’s clothes, and the little things he cared about.

And one week since Steve has been staying with Eddie in the tiny trailer, Wayne opening up his home to him.

And Steve was still pissed. He was hurting. He'd wake up tense, heartbroken over the way his father treated him, treated Eddie. But he doesn’t cry, doesn’t let his father get that from him.

Eddie tried to help, tried to make his boyfriend feel better. Sometimes that involved holding Steve close to his chest as they lie awake, neither of them talking much, lost in their own thoughts. Steve wanting vindication, petty revenge. Eddie wanting Steve to be alright.

Tonight was a night like that. Eddie was so lost in his own thoughts on how to help Steve, that he barely heard it when Steve whispered "Eds..." his fingers were tracing invisible lines on Eddie's bare chest.

Eddie takes a moment to register that Steve had spoken, whispering back "Yea, princess?"

" Would it be the worse thing if people found out about us? You know other than our friends."

Steve's question seems random to Eddie but he answers hoping to figure out what is going on in his boyfriend's head. "I mean, everyone already thinks I'm a freak, so I wouldn't mind. But baby, people would treat you differently, they would be shitty."

Steve momentarily stiffens up when Eddie talks about the way the town teats him, thinks he's a freak. Steve hates that people could be mean to his favorite person in the whole world. But he pushes that aside, knowing Eddie would argue with him, telling him he was a freak. Instead he asks "But you would be fine with it? You would still be there with me?"

Eddie lets out air from his nose, shocked that Steve even needed to ask. "Of course, sweetheart. What can I say, Harrington? You are under my skin. You can't get rid of me."

"Good." Steve says, tilting his head to look up Eddie, shooting him the first smile Eddie has seen all week. "Because I want revenge."

Revenge came nearly a month later, around Christmas. Mr. Harrington was hosting his annual Christmas party, where all his rich business associates and their families would be. Anyone who was anybody was there.

Steve knew about it, after all he'd been forced to be at the previous 18 of them. He wonders how his dad would handle the questions on where he was. How his dad would keep up appearances.

Eddie was willing to go along with anything Steve had planned. Partly because he wanted Steve to feel better, and partly because he loved the chaos.

The dress code for the party was semi-formal, not that Steve cared, not that he was actually invited. So when he pulled up to his parent's house, Eddie in tow, he had some cheesy Christmas sweater on under his blue and yellow winter coat. Eddie hated to admit it but he loved it, loved that his boyfriend could make the ugliest sweater look hot as fuck.

Eddie for his part wore a too tight pair of jeans, withsome band t-shirt underneath his heavy black coat. Neither of them fitting in with that semi-formal dress code.

The driveway and front of the Harrington home was already littered with cars. The house was bound to be full of people. So it made it easy for them to slip into the front door, his father none the wiser.

As Steve makes his way through his old house, looking for his parents that abandoned him, he is stopped by a familiar voice; it was a friend of his dad's, Brian Smith.

"Steven" the voice sounds friendly enough, as Steve stops and looks at the man, Eddie behind him. "It's nice to see you. Your dad said you were out of town, didn't think you would be here." The man smiled.

So his dad had been lying to his friends, couldn't admit his son was queer. Steve probably already knew that but it hurt for it to be confirmed. But he put on a fake smile. He had been doing it all his life, so it's not like this time is different. "Um, well you know plans change, so I thought I would drop by surprise my parents."

"That's very nice of you, I'm sure your father will love to see you. He was telling me you have been so busy with your new place and your girlfriend that he has barely got to see you." Steve tries not to cringe at the mention of a girlfriend. He quickly recovers "Yea you know how it is." Flashing another smile.

Brian turns his attention to Eddie who had been standing behind Steve. "And, um, who's this?"

Just then out of the corner of his eye, he see his dad. And from the looks of it, his dad has noticed him, and is making his way towards them. Steve pretends not to notice as he says "Funny you should ask, this is Eddie. He is my...."

Before he can finish, his dad makes his way to the conversation. He interrupts him, also flashing that fake Harrington smile. "Steven. Hi. I didn't know you were going to make it out tonight. I thought you were busy." He says all but between gritted teeth, trying to keep up appearances as usual.

"Well, I couldn’t miss the family Christmas party, could I dad?" He stares his father in the eye. "I was just telling Mr. Smith, about Eddie. You remember Eddie, right?" He plays dumb.

"Can I talk to you alone, Steven?" He asks before looking apologetically at Brian.

"Sure, dad. Let me just finish what I was saying." He smiles turning back to Brian. Before his father could say anything else he raises his voice so everyone around them can hear. "Anyhow, this is Eddie." He grabs Eddie's hand pulling him up next to him. "And he is my boyfriend."

Steve has to stop himself from laughing at the sudden shift in both Brian and his father’s face. He hears his father say "Get out if here now," but ignores him. Instead he grabs Eddie's face and pulls him in for a deep, passionate kiss, right there in the middle of the room surrounded by guests.

At this point the room has gone quiet, staring at the Steve Harrington kissing his boyfriend, Eddie Munson. As they pull apart, quiet disgusted murmurs fill the room. He sees his mother out of the corner of his eye, hiding her face.

His father tries to keep his voice calm, as he repeats. "Get out of here, Steven." Anger and embarrassment covering his features.

"Sure dad, this isn't the first time you kicked me out anyhow. Tell all your friends how you kicked your faggot son out. " He grabs Eddie's hand pulling him to the door. "Merry Christmas, dad." He says before closing the door.

When they get into the beemer, they are quiet as Steve drives off. He grabs Eddie's hand as they ride home. Eddie lets him. It isn't until they are in front of the trailer, that Steve breaks the silence.

"Did I do the right thing?" He whispers.

"Stevie..." the way Eddie says his name is so full of reverence and love. "What do you mean?"

"Like was it fucked up to hurt my dad like that? He is still my dad." Steve's voice is broken.

"Sweetheart" he shifts his body so he can face Steve. "Look at you, still worried about others when they don't deserve it. You did nothing wrong. You deserve a dad, a family, that loves you even if you bring your boyfriend to some Christmas party, okay? That man does not deserve you in his life."

Steve turns his head, where Eddie can see a tear forming in his eye. "Then why do I still want him in mine? Why doesn't he want me?" And for the first time since the night it first happened Steve cries. Eddie throws his arms around him, pulling him close, holding him for as long as he needs.

#stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson

127 notes · View notes

wikkerwisp · 1 year

Note

Heyyyy so...whos your favorite character from atlantis

Honestly; All the *OG* crew who helped Milo in the end are bits of my favorites— I loved Vinny's depressive but witty humor and love of fire. I love Mole's quirky dirt keeping and clearly particular essence. Audrey was a gd sweetie but also strong, right minded, and clever. Packard was the embodiment of (who she was), a goddamn chain smoking gossiping communicator who acted as a (clearly) witty bourbon grandma to the others. Sweets is just fucking iconic as hell and the only one other than Milo and Kida with gumption to protect life (and is thoroughly the dad of the group actually)— but also— goddamn as a 'anti-hero' or even adversary, *Helga* was goddamn epic, sly, smart as hell and could've done better than Rourke.. However.

Kida, there's always her too, always I was inspired by her empathy, courage, curiosity, and even innocence to rely on the first outsider to plead for her people at large—even with the risks attached.

However, furthermore.

Bold faced truth—

My biggest favorite is obviously, because as a very malnutritioned bean pole nerd ass historian and being fascinated by linguistics and ancient cultures of *all* types— Milo fucking Thatch.

His obvious and outright interest and love (let alone mastery) of the many ancient languages, history, social norms, and his ***willingness to learn***—

I aspired to be an 'ally' /guy like him, even being born as an AFAB because as much as this movie (inherently as it is a white savior trope)— *Milo isn't going to talk over Kida, nor the king*- he sadly, let's Mr. Jughead Mercenary Commander do all the talking (I always hated Rourke, I could tell even as a kid at the beginning of the movie how much of a shady shithead capitalist he was).

Milo. For lack of better terms, is what I aspired to be as a kid— from the moment I saw him?

Kind, curious, factual, strong willed (albeit an awkward ass lonely guy with no friends initially and only his cat)— and above all— Willing to try, learn, and understand— let alone with the utmost empathy to Kida, and his fellow crew members.

The third to last finale scene— (the truck scene where they are hauling Kida away for profit and Rourke punches Milo)—

Was such a powerful scene- of bystanders who were powerless seeing this white bean pole of a man be socked in the nose by this giant Jughead bitch- only for his crewmates to realize.... Milo was not only right, but catering to their truths. As people. And the *adversity* all of the other crew had likely faced before.. and reflected the shitty things they did.

Milo standing up for not just Kida, but the late-Atlantian king— as well as the people themselves— as a complete outsider— against (arguably) "his own people"— to show their ignorance and sheer greed ... let alone what they were truly committing to— genocide of an entire race/ancient culture/entire lineage of families who were already dying out.

My biggest note to take from Atlantis, was not just Milo's defense and argue for an entire race, but seeing the same kindof hopelessness to feel he could change anything that Vinny, Mole, Packard, Cookie, Sweets, or even — FUCKIN FIRST OF THEM TO ACT WAS THE CLEARLY LATIN CODED GIRL, OUR HOMELASS AUDREY.

Audrey's scene, Milo's pleas, and the whole gd scene of her glaring at everyone and *each of them* knowing full fucking well where Milo is right, and not only that— but them realizing three main things then and there:

1. Rourke would likely also betray them the same, and realizing how Milo truly considered them friends.

2. Not only what they were doing is wrong, but *Vinny* of all people making the case that (paraphrased) "(other times) Someone got hurt, but not someone we knew." Detailing that he considered not just Milo a friend, but that they had only *lived* because of Milo's guidance and help. And that Rourke was abandoning him.

3. Notice, other than fuckin Packard and Milo, (including Sweets, but he was busy back at the palace)— all the main crew was either non-white or POC, or Mole (who is French).

Meaning, they *knew* intrinsically what it was like to be almost eradicated, loss of their livelyhood/cultures, hell— taken advantage of by not just imperialism, at large— but now Rourke.

And Milo stood not just with the Atlantian people, Kida, and her father— but because he was (albeit white)— used and maltreatment and not taken seriously as a person too— he understood not just the facts, but the deep deep guttural empathy of even his crew mates.

Pleading their hearts, to make the right choice— because he knew they had too, taken him in, albeit fucking with him.. and that they had meant something to him— whether they cared or not.

And the moment Audrey, Mole, Vinny, Packard and Cookie (sans Sweets)— all realized (with Rourke punching Milo and fucking him up/over personally breaking the photo + damning him to rot along with the Atlantian people—

As soon as they realized #1-#3— Specifically Audrey (we see the buildup of her looking at Milo in the mirror and trying to keep her mouth shut—

The others followed, seeing not just the fact that Rourke was fucking up an entire civilization— but now too— one of their own.

And despite their prior attitudes, proved that they were guilt ridden to some degree- and only stayed because they considered eachother ' a broken family'— much like what Milo also went through, losing his (both?) parents and then Thaddeus (his grandfather).

...

I rambled.

But yeah, Milo inspired me a lot, and his sheer willingness to try new food, new religion, mystical nonsense and even using ancient knowledge to save a civilization knowing damn well he might fail?

And not just doing it for only Kida and *her* people, but stood up (again, even after being hurt, and fighting) because it was ***right***.

#wisp answers #ask #milo thatch #atlantis the lost empire #// Thank you for coming to my bs ted talk about how neat Milo is.

3 notes · View notes

thatcrazycrowgirl · 1 year

Note

What do you think 💬 about Jacob's wife would be like? From appearance, personality, assassin or not? I feel like she would be both_ don't know how an assassin and Normal job at the same time but yeah I love that idea :>

(*All of the is purely personal opinion; proceed with caution and take it with a truck full of salt.)

If I’m 100% honest, this is a tough question to answer across the board, and a lot of it is due to personal bias - whether conscious or not. I have my own ideas of who I think Jacob would be compatible with, be physically attracted to, and later fall in love with, and to continue to be honest, a lot of those ideas were taken into consideration when I began crafting my Syndicate OC several years ago. This does not mean others will think the same way, though.

However, since you asked, I’ll share a few thoughts.

In terms of personality, I see the woman Jacob falls for to be, at least at base level, capable, compassionate, adventurous, and able to match his wit with her own sharp mind. (And in my mind, his future wife is also someone who can hopefully cook better than Jacob or they’re both screwed.) Perhaps too, someone who is willing to go along with some of Jacob’s outrageous ideas, but call him out if what he’s plotting is too dangerous or insane for anyone’s good - same goes for calling out Jacob on any of his BS, as well. As much as I imagine he would deny it, Jacob is the type who needs some sort of anchor/voice of reason - at least to some degree - just so he doesn’t impulsively fly off the handle with some things - as we’ve seen him do, when left completely unchecked.

Again, that being said, just because *I* believe Jacob would fall in love with and marry a certain kind of woman (specifically the one I described above), doesn’t mean other people may do so, as well. Some may argue that a woman who is 100% the complete opposite of Jacob may be the sort he’d fall in love with. Some see him marrying another Assassin - some, a Templar - some, a civilian - some, even one of his own gang members. All of those opinions are valid and possible, because we don’t know what exactly happens between the years of 1869 - 1886. That's 17 years more or less unaccounted for, so heaven knows what all Jacob got up to during that time.

I know you had asked for my personal opinion, but I feel like bringing light to the closest thing we may have to a “canonical answer” might make for an interesting, additional footnote. If you are interested, there was an interview from a few years ago, where Paul Amos (Jacob’s VA) gave his brief opinion on Jacob’s “perfect love interest”/the sort of woman he would marry:

“Well, I don’t know, because they established that he has a daughter, right? In the future, because his granddaughter is in the sequence... So, it’s obviously a very strong woman, somebody who can put up with Jacob and keep him in check...much like my own wife, really...” (From this clip)

(You might notice that this lines up a lot with my own opinion, but I had no idea this interview existed until fairly recently - so there was no influence from it. Just wanted to put that out there.)

In regards to Jacob marrying another Assassin and whether or not she could be both an Assassin and still lead a civilian life, it could be a tricky balance, but not wholly impossible, in my opinion. Two good examples of this are with Jayadeep Mir (a.k.a. Henry Green) being an Assassin, but also owning a curiosity shop, and Arno Dorian, another Assassin, who owns and operates the Café Théâtre. Yeah, these places are most likely a cover, but they're still running actual businesses. Now, going back to Jacob's love interest, I think the biggest catalyst of how well leading that “duel life” could work is how large of a role she has within the Brotherhood, and how the amount of people in that city’s faction. If she doesn’t rank high in the organization and there are a good amount of people to share the work, then leading a more “normal” life could be more manageable, in my opinion.

Now, in terms of appearance, I’m afraid this is one question I couldn’t answer with any sort of certainty or without bias, as we never get any canonical evidence, via Jacob’s own words, as to what he finds physically attractive in a woman. (Yes, I know he’s bicurious/bisexual, but since this post is specifically asking about Jacob’s future wife, I’m focusing on the side of his sexual orientation that is attracted to women.) We see him get a little flirty with women on two occasions (a bit with Pearl and with those two unnamed women in “The Last Maharajah” DLC), but that doesn’t give any solid indication on a specific type for him. Like I've previously stated with other aspects, I had my own ideas that I considered that were later implemented into my OC, but that doesn’t mean other people will agree with them. (And that’s perfectly fine.) So, for the sake of keeping the peace, I may leave this question off the table, if that's alright.

So, there’s my answer, I guess? Sorry if it’s kind of messy and vague in parts, but again, when you’re quite ingrained into this fandom, answering something like this with a neutral eye is borderline impossible.

I still appreciate you shooting me a message, though, and thank you for your patience in receiving my response! :)

#I mean; how does one answer a question like this without pissing people off?#ask replies

5 notes · View notes

2022animalfarmg2 · 2 years

Text

Lovewar letters

loli and ma

Rating: T

Synopsis:

Clover was always in love with Mollie. Afraid that the love wasn’t mutual, she struggles and keeps it all to herself, mascaring it with a strange friendship level between lovers and best friends. When Mollie can’t stand the new system anymore and runs away from the Animal Farm, Clover has no choice but to mourn. She calls her best friend Boxer, unaware of his feelings towards her, so she could send letters and maybe, maybe, keep in contact with Mollie. What she doesn’t expect is what Boxer and the other animals are capable of doing to stop this forbidden love. What if Mollie went away looking for better conditions for her and for her love, Clover. Would Clover run away with Mollie and leave Animal Farm?

Fanfic:

It has been a week since she had last seen Mollie. Her perfectly brushed fur, always tidy, was such a pleasant view… Now that she was gone, Clover almost didn’t have motivation to get up in the morning at all.

The rain probably wouldn’t stop soon. It has been a week since the rain has started, at least that was what it seemed like. Like a week. Probably even more. She had lost all her time perception after Mollie went away. Why did the pony have to be so selfish and run away?

“Come with me darling” Mollie’s words repeated inside Clover’s mind. “Inside this farm we are sad and starving. We can live happily in our own home. A home only for both of us, can you imagine?” Mollie’s eyes sparkled dreamly while she proposed such things. Clover would follow her if she didn’t know that what her friend was saying was untrue. If she left, the only life that would be waiting for them was hunger and suffering.

“We are so much happier here. Why would we risk everything for only an idea?” Clover answered. Mollie stared at her skeptically.

“Because it’s not an idea. It’s my dream. Our dream” Mollie cried “Don’t you hope for something better too?” Her last words echoed inside Clover's head. Does she hope for something better? But the Animal Farm wasn’t already something good? It was better than Jones at least. But something she couldn’t stand anymore was the lack of the only worth of Clover’s love. And if her stay in the Animal Farm meant that she couldn’t be with Mollie, she wasn’t sure anymore if the farm was good at all.

Clover’s mind oscillated between the thought of running away and what she would lose if she left. Mollie was gone, and almost none of the animals cared about it. Napoleon and Snowball were too busy arguing to care about any of the animals' complaints but their own. It was also no use to try to talk to any of the other animals left, their lack of empathy towards Clover only made her feel worse. None of them knew how much her love for Mollie had consumed her, for them they were just friends. Just friends. The two words hit Clover’s chest like an arrow.

The only thing keeping Clover from leaving everything behind was Boxer. He was the only one Clover was willing to talk to even weeks after Mollie’s “disappearance”. His black empathic eyes always stared at her own with such deep concern that it was almost unreal. His free time was almost all spent by talking and listening to the endless venting of Clover. Boxer probably didn’t have a clue about how she felt appreciated by all of his effort. Even without knowing that what she felt in relation to Mollie wasn’t only friendship, he was the only one with the closest version of the truth. Maybe she should finally explain the whole truth. “After” she thought “I still don’t know how any of the animals would react to this. A girl being so in love with another girl. I don’t even know if Mollie loves me back”.

Before Mollie’s exit, it wasn’t unusual to find both of the horses flirting with each other. The pet names and hugs were also very common. Mollie’s favorite one was calling Clover by “darling”. She used to do this all the time, always managing to draw a smile across the other one's face. That was what kept Clover hoping for so long, that maybe Mollie also felt the same way. That wasn’t just friendship. Or was it?

She didn’t have time to answer her own question, Boxer came inside the cellar happily trotting. His smile suddenly faded away the moment he looked at Clover’s depressing face. Slowly, he came closer to his friend and asked what was wrong. Clover already knew that Boxer already knew the answer, but the small act of worrying about what she was so sad about made Clover feel safer.

“I wished that Mollie could hear me somewhat. I feel so lonely without her”

“But you have me!” He said, giving her a warm smile. She looked back at him.

“It’s not the same thing…” She sighed. Boxer made a confused face while he tried to understand the meaning of the frase. While Clover didn’t explain to him that what she felt towards Mollie wasn’t only friendship, Boxer wouldn’t know what was the difference between him and her.

“Do you know where she went?” He asked. Yes, she did know. Mollie had runned away to Foxwood farm, hoping that there she would keep the high quality life that she had with Jones.

“Yes, she is on Foxwood” Clover finally answered “But this doesn’t mean nothing, I still can’t talk with her”

“Why don’t you write to her?” Boxer suggested. Clover eyes widened, staring at her friend like he just started talking in another language. She could just write to Mollie. Clover could write to her everyday and even ask her to visit Animal Farm eventually. The pigeons wouldn’t mind delivering some letters to Foxwood farm, they already were familiar with their neighbors. That was perfect.

She was about to thank Boxer for the brilliant idea when she realized the worst thing possible, Clover couldn’t write. Unlike Boxer, she hadn't learned how to write yet.

“Oh no. I don’t know how to write! How can I write to her if I don’t know how to write yet?”

“I can write it for you” He proposed, giving her a shy smile. Clover eyes shined with excitement. Boxer was such a good friend.

“You are so nice! Thank you Boxer, you’re amazing!” She said, hugging her best friend. Boxer blushed and said that was the bare minimum he should do to her.

Boxer took the rest of the day off just to help Clover write the letter. It was extremely easier to find paper and a pen than she had thought, they just had to ask Squealer for one and she was done. Now, inside the cellar again, Clover was trying to organize her own head in order to tell Boxer exactly what she wanted to tell Mollie. It was the moment of truth, the moment that not only she would finally say to Mollie the intensity of her feelings and the moment that Boxer would know why Mollie was so different from him. Clover took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for something that she knew she wasn’t ready for.

“Boxer, are you ready to write all I say to you?” She asked, anxious. Boxer nodded.

“Alright, here we go” Clover took her last breath and started confessing “ ‘Dear Mollie, I don’t know what to do without you. Since the beginning of our friendship, I had trouble trying to differentiate if you only wanted to stay as friends. And, to my surprise above all, I started to like you more than just friends. Maybe the flirting conversations were the ones responsible for the feelings I had developed for you, but…’ ”

Boxer was staring at Clover so intensely that made her lose her track of thought. Something she said had an extreme reaction inside his mind, so strong that made him even stop writing. Something was very wrong.

“Boxer, are you ok?” Clover finally asked. Only then he realized how much he was staring at his friend because he quickly looked away and pretended to feel fine.

“Yeah, yeah sure. That means that…” He looked back at Clover reluctantly “That means that you like Mollie? Like more than friends?” Clover stayed in a deep silence trying to not lose her mind. That was it. Now Boxer knew that she liked Mollie more than him.

“Yes,” She said after several minutes. The mood between them both was completely changed. It was like they were strangers. “I’m sorry Boxer”

“It’s ok” He snapped. Why was he acting so differently? The person sitting in front of Clover for sure wasn’t Boxer. Clover was feeling like she had just lost her best friend.

“I will continue ok?” He didn’t answer but she continued anyway “ Maybe the flirting conversations were the ones responsible for the feelings I had developed for you, but I just want to say that I hope for you to come back. Please Mollie, I just want to talk to you for one more time and then explain everything. I just hope for us to be alright, because beyond everything, I still want for us to remain friends. With all my love, Clover. ”

Boxer stopped writing a few minutes after Clover had spoken her last words. Without saying a thing, he folded the paper twice and aggressively handed it to Clover, leaving her speechless inside the cellar. She was shocked. That wasn’t what she knew about Boxer. Boxer was the kind, comprehensive and calm friend who Clover could always count on, but now that she had counted on him for once more, she had just seen the side of Boxer that she had never seen before. The aggressive, skeptic and careless side of him. Clover fell on her knees and started sobbing.

It was already night when she left the place. Clover had spent the whole evening crying and it only made her feel more like trash. She was worthless and now, apart from Mollie, she had lost Boxer too. She was all alone. Slowly, she went after the pigeons and gave the letter to one of them.

“Send this letter to Foxwood, please” She said so low that it sounded like a whisper. The pigeon took flight carrying the letter.

It was a turbulent night. Clover took a while to fall asleep, and when she did, she was woken by a terrible scream. Something was happening. Her heart sped up while she trotted in the direction of the scream. It was black outside, so dark that she bumped into a crowd of animals. They were surrounding Napoleon, Snowball and, on their feet, Mollie. Clover’s heart almost stopped when she looked at Molie. Mollie, who was tied and bruised, was with the worst expression of fear that she had seen in her whole life. Her clean tidy fur was full of dirt and she was bleeding.

“This evening, I was told that someone in this farm was conspiring against the new system. This animal, that is sadly still among us, kept in contact with Mollie, that we all know is a traitor. They were plotting together to knock down the Animal Farm in order to give it back to Jones, so they could be reunited again. And do you know, comrades, why they want to be reunited? They want to be reunited because they are in love!” There was commotion among the animals. Mollie was sobbing now.

“Yes, that’s right, comrades, they are in love. And the worst thing is that the animal that is so in love with Mollie is also a girl!” The comotion of the animals has increased now, the whispers becoming shouts and the calming murmur becoming a common disbelief. Clover was astonished. She had her mouth opened, speechless. It was almost like the ground had fallen beneath her feet.

“The love between two of the same sex is forbidden! They are incapable of making new children, so the only objective of this love is the selfish desire to be together endlessly! Two girls loving each other is a threat to the Animal Farm!” Napoleon roared. All the animals next to Clover started to shout too. All of them were agreeing: Something had to be done.

“Our forces had searched after Mollie the moment she had runned away, so she could be punished for what she had done. Today, we celebrate because new information has arrived making us capable of arresting Mollie again. Now, finally, we are going to execute her for the crime of high treason.” Napoleon shouted “For the Animal farm!”

“No!” Mollie cried. But before she could do anything, she was already gone. The only thing left was blood and the terrified expression of not only Clover but many of the other animals. Clover wanted to shout, to scream and to protest. She wanted to strangle Napoleon and then cry her eyes out. But the only thing she did was to stare at Mollie's corpse, feeling absolutely nothing. Nothing at all.

Her love for Mollie had killed her. The useless fact that she couldn’t keep it all to herself made them find her and then kill her. The letter Clover had written was nothing but a war letter, where she declared her feelings dooming Mollie’s destiny . If she truly loved Mollie, she would have controlled herself and kept it. She wouldn’t tell Boxer. She wouldn’t tell anyone But she did tell, and now Mollie was dead. Clover had killed Mollie. Love had killed Mollie. And her love letter had proven to be a war letter that Mollie would never read.

#lovetwists #lovedepression #gay romance #friends to lovers

0 notes

ourloveisforthelovely · 2 years

Text

Black Heart (Part 1)

Regulus Black AU

Request: Will you write a Regulus x Reader fic where Regulus is older than the reader? She comes to help the Order and Regulus falls in love with her. The relationship isn't easy because of the war and Regulus' denial that he would be a good boyfriend.

Summary: Admitting that he was in love had never been something that Regulus wanted to do. Now that you were in his life, Regulus didn't know how to react. Should he love you or push you away just like he had everyone else?

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

AO3 Link:

_________________

“I have to be out of my bloody mind. I am bat shit insane.”

Regulus muttered as he looked out the window. He had been looking out the of the window for the past 15 minutes without moving. Regulus was so lost in his own world that he didn’t notice Sirius come in. Sirius, meanwhile, raised an eyebrow at how Regulus nearly had his face pressed into the glass.

“So…what are you looking at?”

Regulus nearly threw the teacup that he was holding before spinning around to see his older brother watching him with his head tilted.

“Nothing. Mind your own business.”

Regulus snapped. Sirius chuckled. Regulus was going to have to throw a lot more than a foul mood to scare him off.

“Uh huh…look Reg, I am not stupid. I know that you enjoy watching the neighbors next door argue in your animagus form but even they don’t start at 9 am. You are also too much of a snob to interact with said neighbors…so what is it?”

Regulus crossed his arms over his chest defiantly.

“Fuck off, Sirius.”

Sirius promptly walked over and looked out the window. He smirked knowing exactly what Regulus was looking at…you. That explained everything. Regulus’ crush on you had been known to Sirius before Regulus would even be willing to admit it.

“Uh huh…nothing…does that nothing happen to be Y/n?”

Sirius asked with a smirk before going to sit down. Regulus stood glaring at him so hard that Sirius was convinced that if looks could kill…he would be dead.

“I said fuck off, Sirius.”

Regulus repeated. He didn’t have the time or patience to deal with Sirius at the moment. Regulus had problems…mostly you. From the moment you turned up in his life; his world had never been the same. Was it a bad thing? No, not necessarily but Regulus didn’t know what to make of it. He had never made time for relationships in his life. Now he was having feelings that he had never really had.

“Telling me to fuck off doesn’t really work.”

Sirius replied. Regulus moved to sit down with a scowl on his face.

“Trust me, I know.”

Regulus grumbled. Sirius stared at his brother curiously. It had been a slight annoyance to Sirius that Regulus had never made a move to find someone. Regulus wasn’t bad looking. Sure, he had his flaws…but who didn’t?

“Why don’t you talk to Y/n? She’s a nice girl. She also didn’t grow up with us so she doesn’t really know you…makings of a beautiful relationship.”

Sirius suggested.

“Sirius, you are an idiot. I never said that I liked her. She’s just nice to look at.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and faked a gag.

“Yeah right, Regulus. You have it bad for that girl and you don’t see it! From the moment that girl walked into this house, you have been smitten. That says a lot coming from you. Normally, you have this vibe called get the hell away from me but you’ve actually been decent to her…you know…not yourself. Come on, Reg. She’s a nice girl…a very nice girl.”

“That it…she’s a girl. I’m too old for her.”

Sirius wadded up the newspaper in front of him and tossed it at Regulus’ head.

“Oh spare me, Reg. There is literally the same age difference between the two of you as Remus and Tonks. They make it work. You just want something to bitch about.”

“Bitching has nothing to do with it.”

Regulus mumbled. Sirius snorted. Watching Regulus try to justify his feelings, was the most interesting thing in Sirius’ life at the moment.

“Yes, it does, Regulus. If you don’t have something written down to bitch about or don’t have control of the situation, you can’t handle it. I may have been in prison a long ass time but I can say that you, little brother, have not changed. Now will you please get the show on the road and admit that even you need someone? So what if your 35 and she’s 22? It can work…if you make it work.”

Regulus flipped Sirius off before sitting back. Was Sirius right? Regulus didn’t want to think so but yes…he was.

“And you are the person to be giving me relationship advice?”

Regulus asked, smugly. Sirius gave him another frown.

“I would tell you to bite me but I’m not. Like it or not, you do deserve to be happy. Relationships don’t have to be like our parents. You’re not dad and Y/n is nothing like mum.”

Regulus looked a bit disgusted at that comment.

“I know damn bloody well that I am not dad. Furthermore, I would never model a relationship after our parents. That is just sick. Sirius, it's a bad time to be falling in love with anyone. This war…we don’t know how much longer any of us have.”

In Regulus’ mind that was a reasonable argument. He didn’t really want to get with someone, get happy, then one person in the relationship die.

Maybe I just don’t want to get close to anyone…that has never worked out in my favor.

Regulus thought. The one relationship that he had with a girl ended in disaster. Granted, it was his fault for pushing Pandora away. After that relationship floundered and died, Regulus threw himself into any other opportunity that he could. Whether it be school work, quidditch, or after graduation, work. As long as it kept him away from developing feelings for someone else it was a worthy cause.

Would it be nice though? To have someone? Regulus wasn’t for sure on the answer to that one. The part of him that he let no one see…the part that he didn’t let come out often said, yes. It would be nice to not be so damn lonely. Coming home to a house that wasn’t so silent and empty would be nice. Feeling wanted would be lovely. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad though…falling in love? If you would be patient with him and let Regulus learn how to love you properly then he would make you the queen of everything that he had. Regulus felt wanted with Pandora. It would be nice to feel that way again.

Regulus frowned at that feeling of soul-sucking loneliness that he felt a good chunk of the time. Sure, he had Kreacher but Kreacher wasn’t the same as a lover. Regulus would like to have someone that could tolerate his less than stellar moods and still love him. It felt like that would be a stretch asking for such a thing though. It would be like asking for a unicorn.

“That is exactly my point, Sirius. None of us know how much longer we have. Some looney death eater that I used to be pals with could off me tomorrow. That wouldn’t be fair for Y/n. I don’t think that she needs to get emotionally involved with me. I’m moody and not pleasant on a good day. I have no idea how to not be brutally honest. She is different. Y/n is always in a good mood and doesn’t like to hurt people. I’ll just hurt her.”

Sirius smirked.

“You’re so emo, Reg.”

“Shut up, Sirius! I’m not kidding.”

Regulus snapped as Sirius leaned back in his chair.

“Neither am I! Regulus, I never wanted to spend what's left of my life looking after you making sure that you don’t put a fork in a toaster. Can you please go find someone to look after you?”

Regulus got up chuckling to himself.

“I have spent the past 20-something years looking after myself. I don’t need you breathing down my neck.”

Sirius motioned to the yard where you were talking to Tonks. He was aware that Regulus was in love with you the moment

“Go talk to her then.”

Regulus sat quietly a moment longer before getting up and stomping upstairs. Sirius meanwhile, shrugged.

“Maybe I should have talked to her first?”

_______

@amelie-black @justfinishthis @georgeweasleydumbhoe @knreidy1 @jessyballet @acciosiriusblack @hopeful-hufflepuff-peeves @f4iryluvy @lostarc24 @daddyslittlevillain @panpride @regulusblackswhorecrux @missgorldafirst @saramaple @i-love-scott-mccall @s-we-e-t-t-ea @padf00ts-l0ver @readtomeregulus @goldensunshineshit @haroldpotterson @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @aurorasnape12 @eclipsejune @mentally-unstable-hoe @gugggu6gvai @jag9000 @quinis @buttercup-beeee @un-lovesherself @melaninnbarbie @mimisparkle12 @teletubiswszpilkach @dumybitch @play-more-led-zeppelin @ravenhood2792 @fific7 @rubyroscoe1 @bennyberry @criminalyetminimal @whymyparentscheckmyphone @lucasfilms77 @spideyxalmighty @moonythemilf @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @hankypranky @moldy-old-boot @summer-novak @emiwrites3reads @shaylybaby2032 @li0nh34rt @tas898 @untoldshortsofthefandoms @deanwherescas @knight-of-gleefulness @shitfaceddaniel-blog @sprnaturallover @wontlookaway @mycuddlycorner @marichromatic

380 notes · View notes

twilight-orchid · 3 years

Text

How the Undatebales React After A Fight

Thank you to my friendo @wholelottatiffy who helped me brainstorm this one. I’m only on chapter 19 at the moment, so I haven’t interacted with anyone but Diavolo much. And thank you to everyone who wanted a follow up to my previous post, I did not expect that. Y’all are super sweet!

tw: Fighting (a bit more in depth than my first post), description of panic attack, minor name calling, insecurity, depression, angst with resolution.

Diavolo:

Diavolo doesn’t know what to do with himself.

To start, we need to talk about how the argument unfolds.

He’s not used to arguing.

He’s Lord Diavolo, Prince of The Devildom, head of the RAD student council. No one defys him on anything.

So you raising your voice at him, trying to get him to see your way,

It was very overwhelming.

He tried to reason calmly with you at first, but he felt cornered.

When fight or flight kicked in, his body chose fight.

His wings burst open in all their glory as he screamed back, his towering frame far more intimidating than yours.

The blind rage is slapped out of him when he sees your terrified face.

If you’re at the castle, he’ll order you to leave if you haven’t already. Anywhere else, he’ll turn and leave without a word.

He wants to put distance between you both for fear of making things worse.

He absolutely cannot believe he just blew up at you. He would have never thought he'd raise his voice at his partner regardless of the situation.

He can’t shake the image of you flinching from him from his mind.

Now, being the prince of hell certainty has it’s perks; He has power, influence, and everything he could want.

But the one thing he wants the most seems to evade him no matter what: a friend.

A real friend.

He has Barbatos and Lucifer, but it’s Barbatos’ job to accompany the prince, and Lucifer is bound to Diavolo whether he likes the future king or not.

MC was the first person who chooses to be with and around him for no other reason than the fact that they love him.

And now he’s terrified them. Gotten in their face and screamed at them.

He assumes he’s permanently driven you away.

As soon as you leave or he gets home, he rushes to find Barbatos. To explain what happened and hope his butler would know what to do.

He’ll text Lucifer and ask him to check on you as well.

He just feels lost.

He wanders the palace aimlessly and he can’t focus on his work without his thoughts drifting to you.

He doesn’t feel like going to school or even getting out of bed. He doesn’t want to speak to anyone - to put on a happy face and pretend his world isn’t shaking.

Yet, a prince has his responsibilities. He will go about his normal public appearances as usual, smile and laugh and carry on, but it’s a mask.

Those close to him clearly notice the prince isn’t himself.

After school he visits the spots that you two visit together frequently.

Anything to make him feel as if you are still at his side.

If you don’t sleep in his bed that night, he’ll take it as proof that he was right and that you don’t want to be with him anymore.

He doesn’t sleep that night. He clutches your pillow that still smells of you and just bawls.

He will tell Barbatos he feels unwell the next morning and to postpone his obligations for the day.

This prompts Barbatos to seek you out and see if he can help resolve the issue.

Barbatos tries to stay out of your relationship as he doesn't feel it's his business, but his job is to assist Diabolo in any way necessary. And right now, he needs you more than anything.

If you sleep at his side still, it will be a glimmer a hope. That all may not be lost.

He’ll give you you space that night. He’ll walk around you on eggshells but always watch you from the corner of his eye to gauge the temperature.

He avoids your gaze, stays on the other side of the room as you prepare for bed, and as much as it kills him, doesn’t hug you or kiss you goodnight.

He spends the night staring at your sleeping face and making silent promises that, if you forgive him, he will never let this happen again.

He thinks of how to apologize. What he could say, what he could do.

Ultimately though, it feels like everything he could think of is too little of an apology.

He pretends to be asleep when he sees you stir and decides to let you choose if you want to forgive him on your own.

You will have to approach him first.

He thinks losing his temper with you was unacceptable and feels like he has no right to ask for your forgiveness.

Worse, he’s terrified of not being given forgiveness.

Thus, I feel a fight with Diavolo will take as long as you let it. He’s willing to suffer as long as you need him to.

Barbatos:

Barbatos doesn’t argue. He sits quietly and watches you, his responses calm but absolute.

He’s no pushover, he will defend his side, but he’s not going to enter a screaming match. It’s just not him.

You know you’ve really gotten under his skin when he offers a tight, forcefully pleasant smile.

He finally shuts down the conflict with "It's your right to feel that way just as it's mine to disagree." And leave it at that.

Post argument, he will avoid you and lock his feelings about the fight inside.

He tells himself he doesn’t have time to deal with the terrible feeling clawing at his heart and takes to his duties as an escape.

If you sleep in another room, he realizes that this isn’t a minor disagreement and he’s suddenly very distressed.

His instinct is to use his future vision.

To scour the timelines and see how the different versions of himself handle it and to replicate the one with the most desirable outcome.

However, he stops himself. He feels it isn’t fair to you.

You have a right to be upset about things and he doesn’t want to manipulate the situation, and by extension, you.

Thus, he must find another way to cope.

He’s always a devoted butler, but it’s not his whole life.

He takes time for himself throughout the day and in the evenings. Unless Diavolo needs him, nights are usually his to do with as he wants.

Now, however, his identity becomes Diavolo’s butler.

He’s constantly asking for extra work and hovering more than usual around the young lord in hopes of being given a task.

Diavolo finds it odd and asks about it, but he brushes it off. This isn’t anyone else’s business, least of all his employer’s.

Even though Barbatos won’t tell him, Diavolo can clearly tell his friend is off.

In hopes of giving him something to distract himself with, Diavolo requests hellfire mushroom rolled cigar cookies and Barbatos jumps on the opportunity.

Baking has always been his escape as well as his happy place. Diavolo’s favorite isn’t easy to make, so he looked forward to the task.

And it worked. Keeping track of the ingredients, the steps, and the technique required was enough to occupy his mind.

But then it was time to wait for it to bake.

He suddenly feels trapped in the suffocating silence of the kitchen.

His mind replays the argument on repeat as he falls down a rabbit hole of what ifs.

He loves you more than anything and the last thing he could ever want is for you to be mad at him.

No, the worst thing would to no longer be able to call you his.

Suddenly, he becomes aware of the sharp scent of burnt food.

He jumps up and runs to the oven. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed the timer go off.

He pulls the blackened desert out, puts the cookie sheet on the stove top, and just stares at the burnt cookies.

His sight blurs and a soft sob escapes from the prison he’s created in his heart.

He wasn’t crying because he burnt the cookies, but because they were a visual representation of everything he’s been trying to suppress.

Once he collects himself, he knows he can’t continue like this.

He doesn’t want to invade your space in case you’re still mad, but he needs a resolution.

He’ll send a quick text and silently begs you to respond.

“MC, I understand if you are still upset with me, but would you be willing to talk though it? I look forward to hearing from you.”

If you still sleep with him that night, it is a great weight off of his shoulders.

He hopes it means that it will be easier to make up with you and that you aren’t too mad.

When you wake up, he will be watching you like he has all night with a small, tired smile.

He’ll put on your favorite tea as you get ready for the day then asks if you’d be willing to talk things over.

Because of how it affects both his job and himself, a fight with Barbados will not last long. He’ll seek a resolution by one, maybe two days tops.

Solomon:

Lucifer may be the avatar of pride, but Solomon can certainly give the demon a run for his money.

In the moment of a particularly heated argument, he absolutely will not admit he’s wrong.

In fact, he really doesn’t consider it a possibility.

There’s no point in trying to get him to see your side until things have calmed down. It’s like talking to a brick wall.

He won’t yell, but he gets a pissy, condescending tone and almost talks down to you.

If you really push his buttons, his patience with this “useless” argument runs out.

“Oh please, listen to yourself! You’re acting like a dull child!”

Freezes as soon as it leaves his mouth.

He didn’t mean to say that.

He opens his mouth to apologize immediately, but upon seeing your hurt reaction he becomes flustered and can’t get the words out.

He’ll simply turn and leave.

He’s absolutely furious with himself.

Solomon is old and wise. He’s seen many things, been many places, and he knows many things.

Sometimes though, he needs a reminder that he doesn’t know everything.

Even if he still feels he was right, he knows name-calling is unacceptable.

In fact, he doesn’t miss the irony that he was the one being childish.

His self-fury is replaced by overwhelming worry if you sleep in another room that night.

Of all the treasures he’s come across, none were as precious as you.

He can’t stand the thought of losing you because of his thoughtlessness.

For once, he feels like an idiot.

He locks himself in his study that night and brainstorms on how to make it up to you.

He decides to approach you in the morning at RAD. He’s terrified that you think he actually meant the insult and wants to clear the air as soon as possible.

He’s afraid of you taking anything less than his highest praise to heart or for you to think that he views you as below himself.

The thought of how he must have made you feel makes him sick to his stomach.

The more he thinks about it, the more his body demands that he act.

While he has many virtues, patience is not high on his list.

Assuming you returned to The House of Lamentation that night, he’ll text Asmo to explain what happened and asks if he’d let him in first thing in the morning.

Thus, when you leave to head for breakfast, be careful not to trip over your sorcerer who’s seated against the wall outside of your room.

He scrambles to his feet, his hair and clothes a mess and bags heavy under his eyes.

“MC! Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I just- *sighs* I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. Would you be willing to discuss the matter again? The right way this time.”

If you do sleep with him, he’s at least relieved that you don’t seem like you plan to leave him.

Once again, however, he wants to clear the air as soon as he can.

You’ll both be sitting in silence as you get ready for bed. He’s clearly lost in thought, his eyes focused unblinking on his feet and any movements slow and disjointed.

He's not sure how to apologize, if it's too soon, and is afraid to make things worse if it's not an appropriate time.

However, seeing you move about the room he decides to risk it so he doesn't risk losing you.

Suddenly, he stands up straight and locks eyes with you.

“MC, we don’t have to talk about the fight tonight, but I need you to know that I didn’t mean what I said. I’m sorry.”

It’s up to you if you want to forgive him immediately, but he will at least apologize for the insult as soon as he gathers his thoughts.

Simeon:

If you yell at him, Simeon is just gonna sit there stunned

Your relationship is usually as laid back as he is, so he doesn't know what to do with you blowing up at him.

All he knows it that this is bad and he needs to find a way to make you happy again.

The thought of losing you takes precedence over everything and, though he will not sway to your side just because you’re upset, the argument loses any worth it had to him.

He’ll go to Solomon almost immediately in hopes your fellow human might know better about how arguments are resolved between human couples.

He becomes very distressed when Solomon says everyone handles it differently. He then asks what he should to make up with you specifically.

He doesn't have a defined emotion right now, he's just on edge. He wants to gather information first and foremost so he can figure out what to do from there.

He’s just a walking ball of anxiety and those close to the angel even become concerned. No one has seen him like this before.

If you decide to sleep in another room, the anxiety just takes over.

His chest feels like fiery chains are crushing his ribs, he can hear his heart is hammering in his head, and his body begins to shake as if he were buried in an avalanche.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying as he struggles to breathe.

Solomon had expected something like this may happen so he made sure to be nearby to help coach him though it.

Once he’s calmed down, Solomon urges him to talk to you as soon as possible.

Simeon isn't sure though. True, he wasn't in a good place, but he didn't want to push you if you weren't ready to talk.

He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t feel like he can think let alone coherently tell you how he feels.

He begins to feel overwhelmed again and decides to try writing down his thoughts in hopes of it helping him sort through the tsunami of emotions consuming him.

While it doesn't completely calm him down, it does help.

He stares down at the messy, tear blotted papee and has an idea.

The next morning you should expect to find a hand-written letter slipped under you door.

The letter is long and and rambling. His usually pristine handwriting is as shaky as his hands were when writing it.

It's not as dense and heartbroken as his original one, but the further it goes the more desperate his words become.

He writes about how much you mean to him and apologizes for allowing things to get that intense. He writes that he loves you and doesn’t want to lose you.

He reminisces about his favorite memories of you two together more than once.

Finally, that no disagreement you two could ever have is more importantly to him than being with you.

It's really just a collection of everything sitting on his heart at the moment.

That day at RAD he’ll watch you from the sidelines and pray you approach him about the letter so you two can work things out.

If you still sleep in his bed, he’ll be very conflicted about if he should approach you yet.

He’s afraid of making it worse if you’re still mad.

However, Simeon is an open book when it comes to his emotions so you will absolutely be able to tell that he’s freaking out.

So please, save the man a terrible night and talk it though with him.

He wants you to not be angry anymore, but even if you’re still upset just having concrete information to cling to will help him immensely.

He’s thinking of all the worst case scenarios and needs reassurance that the relationship isn’t over.

Simeon will try to make up within a day, so however long it lasts after that is up to you.

Luke (MC is his best friend):

Luke will be very, very distressed.

You’re his best friend aside from Simeon. Friends don’t fight like this, right?

Wait, so if you’re fighting with him, does that mean you’re not his friend anymore???

As soon as the thought enters his mind, he decides that must be the case.

Real friends don’t fight with each other like this.

Externally he takes a “I don’t need a lousy human like you for a friend anyway” attitude.

He’s not just testy with you though, anyone who interacts with him that day learns that chihuahuas bite.

Simeon immediately realizes something isn’t right and is very concerned.

As soon as he asks him what’s wrong, Luke's mask of anger is discarded and he tosses himself in the older angel’s arms crying hysterically.

He doesn’t want to lose you for a friend.

I doubt Luke has ever truly argued with someone so this uncharted territory is earth shattering to him.

Simeon, as he tries to calm Luke, he will text you and ask you to come to wherever they are immediately.

Because of Simeon’s intervention, the fight will only go undiscussed for a few hours max.

Again, sorry if I don’t know these characters as well as I’d like yet. Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obeyme #obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo x mc #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x mc #obey me barbatos x reader #Obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon x mc #obey me simeon #obey me simeon x reader #obey me simeon x mc #obey me luke #obey me undateables #obey me headcanons

2K notes · View notes

kyberphilosopher · 4 years

Text

Smile

Word Count: 3467 Requested: yes. Based off ‘505′ Warnings: strong hints to sexual disposition. Spoilers if you squint.

“I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck... I did last time I checked.” -Arctic Monkeys, ‘505′.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

With hoarse breath and unwavering eyes, you look up to the stars as you speak. “So, you’re really going to do it then?”

“I have to,” you hear him say. His voice has gotten far more mature and calm since the first time you’d heard him speak. Still angry and determined, but in an intelligent, adult way. Eren is a more capable person now. The only thing left to do is wait and see if that’s a good thing, or a bad thing.

“What do you think are the chances of winning?” you question. A shooting star whizzes across the sky at that very moment, and it’s gone before you can think of a wish.

You turn around to face him, but his eyes are already on you. Once upon a time, Eren’s eyes were emerald and teal and deep. Now they’re paler. They are cold and steady as a byproduct of who he’s become. It’s hard not to wonder what he’s thinking about when he looks at you like this, especially since he’s become harder to read over the years.

At first, Eren was one of the most insufferable people you’d ever met. He acted out so often, it was hard to see him as another person of intelligent life. You mostly just minded your business through your cadet years, usually hanging around Reiner, who was also difficult to see as intelligent life. Sometimes you and Eren would argue, but it was never passionate. You just had different world views.

Things got better when you found out what Eren really was. Since you hadn’t made top ten, you could only choose between the Garrison Regiment, or the Scout Regiment. And with Eren’s newly discovered power showing the promise of hope, you decided on the Scouts. He liked that.

After that, it was hard not to mature at the same time as he. Eren often blamed himself for the death and carnage that surrounded the regiment. You were solely responsible for the passing of your best friend. And after everything that happened with the government, almost dying at Shiganshina- you knew you couldn’t stand this much longer. With your relationship with Eren still budding in its early and steamy stages, he was the only one you told of your desertion. You abandoned the corps, finding a small, abandoned farm within wall Maria to hide out in.

Eren was too tired and sick of everything to think you were being cowardly. He wanted to leave too. Maybe come with you. But Eren had plans in the works that he couldn’t leave alone. He visited you less and less. Luckily you never made a fuss.

And now Eren wants to end the world, to save the world. How does he expect you to react to this?

“I just thought I should see you,” Eren replies. You know he’s deflecting your question. You’re not stupid.

You nod slowly, blinking as you think. “Am I going to die?”

Your companion crosses his arms calmly. “Yes,” he tells you.

There it is.

“You know I can’t support you in this, right?” you tell Eren, equally as calm.

He only replies after a moment, also in deep thought. “I know.”

You look back up to the sky, sighing out through your nose. “Why did you come, Eren? Did you want me to tell you that I think you’re doing the right thing? Or was it because you need to let out some anger? I wonder.”

“I did want to see you.”

“Do you still?”

Silence.

“Yes.”

“And I suppose there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“No.”

The stars are glittering with pastel hues, like a rainbow, or kaleidoscope. Each one is a different size, bordering on different shapes, all fusing and melting together like your idea of heaven. You can barely even see the midnight color of the sky through all them. It is beautiful, but it’s also bitter. Everything is bitter, here.

“I didn’t make myself any dinner yet,” you say. “Couldn’t think of anything.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

When she was alive, Eren’s mother would make a soup for the family. It was creamy, hot, filled with meat and cheese at the bottom. Eren never liked soup, but he did love that dish. She was always sure to make extra for him, so that he could enjoy it for several days. And although it wasn’t until after she was gone that Eren realized he rarely ever thanked her for it, it was still one of the warmest memories Eren had.

He fills your wooden bowl with it, being awfully generous. He knows that even though you haven’t eaten much in the last few years, you too had grown fond of the soup. He knows no matter how slowly you force it down, you are enjoying it. It burns the roof of your mouth every time, but you’ve never cared. All that matters is the creamy sauce, and the cow cooked to perfection.

You stare at the fireplace beside you, flames cackling and licking upward. Eren sets the bowl in front of you, and takes the seat on the other side. You know he sets his long hair behind his shoulders. You’re already prepared. From your pocket, you produce a stretchy brown hair tie on the verge of snapping, handing it to him.

“Thanks,” he says, even though this routine has happened however many times he’s seen you.

“You’re welcome.”

The soup is as amazing as usual. You’re willing to bet Eren makes it even better than his mother did, but you dare not say it aloud. It’s creamy, perfectly seasoned. It goes down your throat, still steaming.

“Does Mikasa know about this?” you question, taking one more delicious bite.

“No. None of them do,” Eren answers. “Armin will figure it out soon.”

“You want me to kill ‘em?”

Eren shakes his head. To a lot of people, this would be taken as a joke. But this is nowhere near it. Your tone is too casual, too low for it to be humor of any kind. And the way the man across from you reacts- he’s thinking the same thing.

“No.”

“How are they, then?”

Eren thinks as he takes another bite, the warmth creeping up his chest sweetly. “They’re alright for now. I don’t know for how much longer. I can’t see everything.”

“Can you see who’s next?”

He squints at his bowl as if he were angry, but his eyebrows barely move. “Sasha.”

Sasha. She was always a good presence to have around. While she seemed like the type of person who would annoy you, it was hard to hate her. And you admired her keen intuition anyway.

“Will you give her something for me?”

Eren nods. Then you both go back to eating for a few seconds, basking in the orange glow from the flames.

“How are things here?” he questions after a minute.

“The same,” you tell him. “I think the cow might die soon.”

Some people might reply with condolences, or sympathy. But your lover does not, and you do not expect him to. “I’ll get you a new one,” he says flatly, almost like a promise. You nod once.

Despite the atmosphere which can only be described as bitter, you’re glad to see Eren again. You’re glad that he’s alive, and as alright as he can be. The bed is always colder without him, heated up only by your lingering fingers that you pretend are his every other night. Whenever he leaves an article of clothing behind, usually on purpose, you hold off on washing it so it can smell like him for you as long as possible. Then there are the hair ties you keep either in your pocket or on your wrist, specifically for him. The razors in your cabinet he often didn’t even bother using.

Even with the sullen demeanor that had managed to overtake both of you, there was at least one thing you cared about in the world still. Maybe it wasn’t the most conventional kind of caring, or the healthiest coping mechanism. But it was still caring. And all that you cared about was him.

You knew you weren’t Eren’s first priority. You were probably second, or third. It didn’t bother you. Eren’s head was one of the first things lost when the truth was presented to him. It came back coldly and sternly, in contrast to how previously hot and impatient it had been. But by then your head had also grown colder and sterner. In simpler terms, Eren did care for you. He did love you. But he would consider letting you die if it meant achieving what he set out to do, and you knew this.

Across the table, Eren lifts his head to look up at you as he chews slowly. The burning meal slides down his throat easily, albeit painfully. It doesn’t even register with him, his piercing eyes slowly gaining a glint from the fire light.

You meet his eyes after a few seconds, feeling them on you. You don’t say a word, don’t even give a questioning look. You just hold him patiently, which is something the two of you find yourself doing often.

“You can’t stop it,” Eren speaks, looking you dead in the eyes with a steady gaze. There is love behind his eyes, far behind the anger, but you can tell from the tone of voice he is trying to tell you something as if it were an order. Your lips part slightly from the intensity radiating from your lover, who doesn’t move a muscle. “You’ll be free soon.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Dinner ends. Eren helps clean up the dishes for you and goes to get water from your well so you can clean easier. You already know from the way his thumb brushed against your own when you took the bowls that you’ll likely be bent over the sink in a few minutes, which you don’t mind, but you wonder if he’ll be willing to be softer than usual as an apology for what he’d said earlier.

He’d meant to scare you. You’re intelligent enough to figure that out. Even though you don’t scare easy, and you didn’t even give an extreme reaction, the look in Eren’s eyes had made your heart drop to your stomach. Sometimes you forget that Eren sees everything. Then he says something like that to remind you in the most memorable way.

The wooden door opens and closes behind you. Boots scuff the ground for a few seconds, drawing closer and closer as something in you sparks with anticipation, as it always does. A pail of water hits the surface beside you, partially sloshing over the sides, shining silver in the moonlight from the tall window in front of you. Finally, ultra hot hands slide around your waist and push gently but tightly against where your ribs diverge.

A jaw leans down on your right shoulder, chin poking against your collarbone. Locks of hair brush against your own, just as the hand on the left runs across your side to finally put a small band in your pocket.

“I did miss you,” Eren’s low voice seemingly growls, his chest rumbling softly against your back.

“I was thinking about you,” you admit with monotone, knowing your lover can read through it like as easily as a knife slices through skin.

“I hope I didn’t worry you,” he says, though you can also read through his own tone. He probably didn’t care about worrying you. He definitely doesn’t still.

“You didn’t.”

You place a both bowls in the sink, running your fingers over the dirty spoons. Eren’s orbs follow your movement. You can feel his chin change positions ever so slightly in the coming seconds.

“Can you pass me the rag?” you ask, eyes focused on a piece of food on the spoon that doesn’t even exist.

In response, Eren doesn’t pass you anything. Only his right hand gives you any kind of acknowledgement, passing from on your ribs to down lower. His fingertips skin over the erogenous zone under the waistband of your undergarments.

“I worried about you,” Eren murmurs boldly. The hot fingertips pass under the cloth finally, pricks of stubble on his jaw scratching your neck and shoulder as he shifts. “I wanted you to be okay.” His left hand raises to grasp the breast above it. Slowly at first, then firmly, like a warning. Everything is a warning with him.

Your head lulls back uncontrollably. The back of your hair matts up as it rolls against his own shoulder.

“I said you worried me,” your partner grumbles. “Did you hear me?”

“No,” you lie lowly, refusing to let your voice shake despite the shiver in your throat.

“Mm,” Eren hums in condescending understanding. A force presses against your core, which has turned burning hot and ice cold at the same time. The force pulls away, a string of something smooth and slimy following it that makes a sound draw from your lips. It’s high pitched, weak, and unstoppable. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so associated with Eren.

His hand gives your breast a firm squeeze, soreness blossoming from the center. Your back arches quickly and returns lax against him, though now something pokes against your bottom that makes your eyes pop open with a new alertness. Eren’s hand gives you no time again. From your chest, it flies to your throat, holding it back with soft strictness as the other finally dips into the hot pool between your hips.

“I worried about you.”

A strangled groan releases from between your lips again, this time fully carried up through the air. To Eren, it must sound like nothing more than music, or background noise.

Thick cylinders pump inside you to the knuckle. They feel better than your own. They always have.

It feels good. Full. Tight and fast and like the inside of you is quivering under the weight of something that you can’t see or hear. Eren is like a blanket supporting you from falling over, keeping you upright with his grip and his fingers buried inside of you. Prodding every angle, every spot. Not necessarily romantically, but still lovingly. He has always had this goal during intimacy. Nothing matters but communicating to you just how close he wants to be.

“Eren,” you choke, a dribble of spit sliding from the corner of your lips.

“Again,” he hisses in response. His fingers hit a tight spot, making every muscle in your body clench at the same time.

You don’t say another word, your mouth hanging partially open as you focus on everything around you. And it’s all Eren Jaeger. His smell, his growls, his voice, his breathing, his chest, his muscles, his hair, his anger, his bitterness, his intelligence, his determination. It’s overwhelming. It reminds you of getting swept in one of those waves at the ocean he described to you. He’s yours. No- more likely, you’re his. End of story.

“I said again.”

“Eren,” you moan.

His head nuzzles into your neck comfortingly, his fingers pushing faster and harder. You can feel how warm you are, never mind how slick. And the way your own body holds around his digits every time he pulls away is enough to make you all the more warm and slick.

But then...

What is he doing?

He had said “you’ll be free soon”. And yet, here he is, gripping you tightly as he forces you into the corner of submitting. And yes, it is hot. It arouses you as it always has. But something about it makes your stomach turn into a knot of unpleasantness, in contrast to the other one of liquid pleasure.

“Eren,” you strain, squirming against him.

Eren speeds up again. A grunt falls from his own mouth from his own power, and you know he’s getting off almost as much as you are. It doesn’t stop feeling good. Feeling euphoric.

It’s getting rougher. Rougher and harder and faster, more intense.

“Eren.”

Another gruff moan from him.

“Eren! Stop! Stop!”

Eren’s palm softens away at once. It lifts away, his eyes opening and his hand stilling inside of you. He watches you shake as you gaze up to the ceiling, wide eyed. Your thighs sputter, entire body twitching. You didn’t cum.

His eyes trail over you. You’ve worked up a steady sweat glistening and glowing, shivering and shaking and quaking because of him in the best way. You’re his. His partner, his friend, his ally he knows for a fact he can rely on.

“C-can we... Eren...”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Drips of water dribbling down Eren’s temple. One of your hands are threaded in his brunette locks, holding them back so you can have an uninterrupted view. The other hand is dabbing cloth against his forehead and hairline, bathing him softly.

He’d gone a while without bathing again. You could tell. Eren’s eyes are glued to yours, deep teal memorizing all the flecks in your own as if he hadn’t a million times over.

Eren loves you. Dearly. He’d travel all seven hours and forty five minutes just to tell you that. He doesn’t know what made you stop earlier. He doesn’t ask. But he’s not mad. Overall, Eren understands that it doesn’t matter what you asked to stop for. You give the word, he obeys. Not because he has to, but because he loves you.

Still, he knows something is wrong. You don’t show it. You’re steady, calm, mature, apathetic as always. But in the pit of Eren’s stomach, something brews. A warm, strange feeling of intuition and omniscience.

“You look very pretty today,” Eren ventures, wondering only of your response. “Did I tell you that?”

Your eyes squint. “Thank you,” you reply back.

The cloth continues to rub against his skin, cleaning something that probably doesn’t even exist. Dirt, maybe. Eren’s stopped taking care of his skin in the past few years.

“You’re welcome.”

Your eyes squint again. This time, they gloss over with sharp wetness like glass. The eyebrows crease like a break, your bottom lip trembling as you suck it between your teeth.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting. But your lover wasn’t expecting this.

Eren hates when you cry. He can remember the first time he’d seen it, but not the most recent. You didn’t cry often- you were strong. Crying over something as useless and flimsy as emotions didn’t seem worth it. So what was this for? What were you about to make Eren break down inside over?

Your hand falls limply from his forehead. Shoulders hunch over in defeat, staring down at the floor as your hair covers over your face. And then the sniffles come, choked out coughs like sobs.

Eren can see the lightest of bruises he’d left on you from earlier, but you’d never had a problem with it before. No, it was something else. But what?

Silent, your teeth grit together as you wince, tears streaming down your face inexplicably.

“Earlier w-when you,” you gulp, snot beginning to form, “when you- I did worry a-about you. I- I don’t know why I didn’t...”

You stumble forward. Eren stands from your bath tub to catch you as you slump against him tiredly.

“I hate it when you go.”

Eren switches positions with you, pushing you down to sit on the edge of the tub. He takes the wet rag from your hand and holds your shoulder back so he can have a good look at you. Then the cloth dabs against your own forehead, just as you had done to him.

“I hate it here,” you sigh, a single tear drop blurring your vision as it falls finally.

Your lover moves the cloth from your head to your cheeks, smearing the wetness into your skin and away. They moisten and dry, your eyes red and shiny. Eren tilts your head up under your jaw, creasing his brows and using the towel to clean closer to your eyes.

“If it helps,” he says, looking straight into your eyes, “you’re crying, but I still think you look pretty.”

You’d be lying if you said that didn’t help even a little, because you love him.

A soft smile creeps to your lips, your hands dropping in between your thighs.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

No I didn’t reread this lmfao enjoy. Hope I did you justice anon

4K notes · View notes