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ravens-two · 5 months

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PAC: How will 2024 be like for you?

This reading includes:

the general energy of 2024 for you

advice for the year

synchronicities and symbols for 2024

The extended reading includes:

the biggest blessings for this year

your elder futhark rune of the year

a little moodboard

Disclaimer: this is just for entertainment purposes, and as a pick-a-card reading it may not resonate for everyone.

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Pile 1

Knight of Swords, Ten of Pentacles, Knight of Pentacles

"Sometimes it seems that going is just too rough/And things go wrong no matter what I do"

Hello, pile 1, I get the feeling that 2023 didn't treat you that well. There's this feeling of coming out of chaos - the image you picked, your song, even the Knight of Swords seems to be fighting with a murder of crows. I truly get this sense that you come out of the old year almost battered and bruised, but absolutely fucking ready to make 2024 your year. Some of you are even a bit angry - it's that feeling right between anger and passion. I feel a sense of desperation here, it's like you need to get things right this time. For some of you I think that this is related to a relationship (be it romantic, a friendship, or even family), for others I think that this is more work/school related. The specific example that came to me is that you were supposed to finish your degree last year, but you couldn't for some reason and now you really need to whatever it takes to finish it. With the Ten of Pentacles here I see you being successful with whatever this might be for you, even if you have a lot of work ahead of you.

In general, this is a year for acquiring knowledge. If that's your thing I see you reading a lot, maybe even getting into the classics. Maybe that's something that you've always wanted to do, but never had the time. Even if you're not much of a reader I still get the feeling that you'll be reading more this year, it could even be for your job or school. For others of you I see you learning or mastering a language. I have a very specific message that someone is learning a language that is related to their family. It's like, maybe your family immigrated from Italy, let's say, and you never learned Italian, I see you learning it this year. No matter what this is about, this year is all about learning - practical things and life experience too! And I see you having a lot of experiences this year. I see that some of you are coming out of your shell and trying out new things. Going out more, making new friends, exploring new places, that sort of thing.

I also think that this is a year where you will be working on your goals. If you've been dreaming about a promotion or getting into a certain university I see you starting to plan for it and working towards your goals. The vibe is like moving on from the dreaming stage to the acting stage. If you're into manifestation this is also a message for that. Your manifestations are starting to become "real".

Advice: the biggest advice for you this year pile 1, is to put in the work. You need to find a way to keep yourself motivated (this is also a year of learning discipline) and do the work. It doesn't matter if it's hard or boring or that you don't feel like it. It's time to take charge of your life and do the work to become who you want to become. This even applies to relationships, you can't expect to have ride or die friends, for example, if you're not ready to be ride or die for them as well. I wonder if your rune will be Gebo, because this is definitely that give and take energy. You will get exactly what you put in. Take advantage of that pile 1. I also need to note though, that you shouldn't run yourself into the ground. Rest when you need to and take care of yourself. Also, eat well, pile 1! It's time to create better/healthier eating habits.

Synchronicities: clouds, the sun, the color blue, lipstick stains on glass, 15th of April, 111, 555, butterflies, pearls, snow, pine trees

Pile 2

Four of Cups, Three of Cups, Ace of Swords

"All the things that I ran from/I now bring as close to me as I can"

Pile 2, the biggest vibe for you for this 2024 is that you will finally be able to reframe your life and find joy in the little things. You are moving on from the dissatisfaction that comes from constantly imagining something better and learning to be present in the moment and appreciate things as they are. Instead of constantly looking to the side and imagine life as you wish it could be, you will start to love the life you have. There's a sense of being responsible for your own fate here. Like pile 1, if you want change you need to change. This seems more internal though. You are changing your way of thinking, your unconscious bias, working with your shadow basically. Honestly, I am really proud of you pile 2. This is so hard to do, yet so rewarding as well. This is also the year that you stop running. Instead of avoiding your problems/responsibilities you now know that you need to confront you or they will never stop chasing you.

I also see a big focus both on relationships and honoring your feelings. I think that instead of focusing on work like the previous pile, this year your focus is on building stronger relationships with your loved ones and spending time together with them. Enjoying life in the company of others basically. I actually heard the expression "dolce fare niente", which is basically "the pleasure of doing nothing". I think that this is also something that you are embracing. Being able to do nothing, just sitting with your loved ones and watch the world around you. I'm also picking up that one of your goals is spending less time on social media - and one of the advantages will be that you no longer feel the need to compare yourself and your life to other people.

When it comes to honoring your feelings, you will be able to enforce better boundaries, even with yourself. You will learn that if you don't feel comfortable in a certain situation you can leave. Allowing yourself to say no. Again, a year of change, self-development and self-care. Again, congratulations pile 2, this will be hard but so good for you.

Advice: your advice here is to keep an open mind. Don't be too quick to judge yourself or others and take the time to see a situation from various points of view. Your mind will be quite sharp this year and I feel like you'll need it. Be ready to receive divine inspiration. Again, open yourself to new ideas and different ways to see something. I see that some of you are artists, for those of you this is especially important for your art. If you feel like your art isn't "right" at the moment that's the problem. You need to study a different art movement, put yourself in another character's shoes, to turn your whole world upside down and re-learn how to function in it. Also, try to be as truthful as possible, because I get the feeling that any lies that you tell this year might come back to bite you in the ass.

Synchronicities: roses, the moon, the color red, lip gloss, moon charms, the sea, sunsets, tuxedo cats, angels, wings, 18th of June, 888, 434, carnations

Pile 3

World, Hierophant, Three of Pentacles

"No stop signs/Speed limit/Nobody's gonna slow me down"

Pile 3, no one can stop you in 2024. You know exactly what you want and how to get there. I get the feeling that this is a year of achievements for you. Some of you are finishing high school or university. Others are getting their first job or a promotion. Whatever it is, the effort that you put in the past year(s) is paying off and you are seeing the fruits of your labour this year. Your energy is very Capricornian, this might actually be your zodiac sign, but not necessarily. If you have a plan for something that you want to accomplish this year, I can tell you right now that it's probably going to be very successful. I'm even seeing that someone or a couple of people here might go viral? Or at least, you will be very talked about in your community/school/city. You will be known for something that you are doing/will be doing this year. You're getting recognition for your work basically. I advise you to check your natal charts, because I feel like your 10th house use being activated this year.

I'm getting a very specific message that some of you are learning how to take advantage of a strong hierarchical system. I'm getting two very different things here. For some of you this seems related to activism. You're learning how to use the current power structure to do your activism and to make changes. It almost feels like you're exploiting it, but in a good way. For others, this seems more related to work, maybe even school, but it seems more like a workplace environment. And basically you're doing the same thing, you're using the rules to your advantage. Instead of feeling bound by them and wanting to "destroy" them you're finally learning how to get what you want by following them. This is really intriguing. For others, this is more about learning discipline, and how useful it can be for your life. Whilst for others it's about building a better relationship with power structures and people in power. You might have some trauma with people in power and you'll be making positive headway on it during this year.

For those of you that are learning a skill - I actually got witchcraft for some of you - this year you're getting into the "classics". Basically what I mean by this is that instead of making things up as you go, you're going to try a different approach and try to learn the theory. Again, for the magick example, instead of experimenting and doing things your own way you might pick a up a book about the history of magick or about magickal theory. I also see that some of you are traveling as well!

Advice: pile 3, it's time to learn how to ask for help. You are not a burden to other people and must of the time they will actually be delighted to help you, because it means that you trust them and believe in their skills. Ask for help with personal things and also in your work! There's no shame in not knowing something or not being 100% sure on how to do something. I see that you guys are very perfectionist and you might have felt that you need to always rely on yourself, but that's not the truth. It can actually be beneficial for you to ask for help and to ask questions in your workplace. Also, pile 3, you also need to learn how to work in a team. I feel like you will be prompted to do this a lot this year, almost as a test. I know that you're super capable and maybe your work would be better if you did it all by yourself, but the truth is maybe you'll get something completely original and different by working with other people.

Synchronicities: rainbows, the color gold, marigolds, flower crowns, mushrooms, snakes, snake tattoos, 24th of August, September, fairy rings, fairies, 555, 222, the desert

Pile 4

Six of Pentacles, Eight of Swords, Magician

"You're not mean, you're just born to be seen"

Pile 4, I immediately get the feeling that you're very good at giving, but not that good at taking. It's almost like you feel guilty, as if you were never good enough, so you need to give much more than what you are allowed to take. This is what's changing for you this year. You'll start to realize that you are allowed to receive as much as you give, and start to have a better dynamic in your relationships. This could be due to childhood trauma or a toxic relationship that did some damage to your self-esteem. But, this year you'll start to see yourself for who you truly are. I also see you enforcing better boundaries and starting to say no when you really don't feel like/can't do something.

Be careful when signing any contracts this year, because you might miss something important that could potentially get you in trouble. If it seems too good to be true, it probably is. Also, don't let people pressure you into being generous. The specific example I'm getting is like someone approaching you and being way too nice, sharing a lot of life details and expecting you to do the same. Just because they shared those things, and they seem nice, it doesn't mean you have to do the same - especially if it gives you a weird feeling.

I also think that you have been feeling stuck in your life for a while now, it could be related to work or your health mainly. I see that some of you this is specifically about mental health. But, in 2024 you will begin to see that you aren't actually stuck. There's always something that you can change, even if it's your perspective on something. Don't let your intrusive thoughts dictate your life, this is especially for my people with anxiety and OCD. You aren't your thoughts. Your thoughts are not you. The first step towards freedom is being able to see the facts. You're taking stock of your life, of yourself, and taking the first steps towards freedom this year. I see that this is also going to be a year of big changes for you, pile 4. Like pile 2, this is mostly about internal changes. Just like I told pile 2, I'm very proud of you pile 4. Changing the way you think and see the world is not an easy thing.

Advice: the biggest advice for you this year is to get back your power. Realize that you are the only one who is in control of your life. Sure, we all operate under specific circumstances and those are difficult to change, but what you do in those circumstances is only up to you. Don't let anyone step over you or tell you that you are not good enough. That couldn't be further from the truth. Recognize your power, your skills, your beauty and don't let anyone take it from you. This is a year of gaining independence.

Synchronicities: solar eclipse, glitter, city lights, clocks, feathers, night sky, "sky full of song" by Florence + the Machine, 666, 888, 3rd of March, rain, heart charms

#pick a card #pick a card reading #pick a pile #pick a picture #pac #pac reading #2024 reading #tarot #tarot reading

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redcoralpot · 7 months

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Tougher Than Nails - Mike Schmidt X M!Reader

Warnings/Details: NSFW content, implied substance abuse, alcohol, cowboy!reader, hankie/cowboy hat code.

Summary: Mike goes to a bar downtown in hopes of getting his mind off of court, but instead finds something much healthier.

A/N: Everyone should thank my boyfriend for this idea; he's always the one that reminds me that I am technically a 'cowboy'. He saves a horse very often.

Word Count: 1.8K

Bars weren’t really Mike’s thing. Any alcohol he’s ever had tasted like crap, and becoming an alcoholic would just be another check on Aunt Jane’s list to prove to the court that he wasn’t suitable for custody. Hell, he swore her perfume was still clinging onto his nose hairs, and all he wanted to do was escape her. Escape reality, too. Mike remembered when his father used to do just that after Garret disappeared, drowning himself in the bitter liquid at night, his speech slurred. That’s why he was here, at a bar in downtown Afton, while Maxine stayed with Abby. He was desperate.

The building was crowded, delightful chatter and jazz music filling the air. Lights were strung along the wooden walls, narrowly dodging the black and white photos hanging by themselves. More customers squeezed in behind him; Mike frantically searched for any open spot in the room. Hallelujah– a single stool was left vacant near the serving counter, and Mike shuffled into it, shoulders tense. The bartender seemed to notice his presence, as she leaned towards the man, still shaking another person’s drink.

“You’re a new face,” she rattled, “may I see your license?”

Mike fumbled with his wallet, sliding the card for her to see, “Uh, sure.”

“Right, you’re all clear; would you like to open a tab?”

A man cut in before he could answer, and for the first time, Mike got a good look at the person sitting beside him, “Just add whatever he orders to mine, Molly.”

She shrugged, the key hanging from her left pocket jingling, “Easier for me.”

You chuckled, the brim of your hat covering your eyes. It was decorated with embroidery and leather, complimenting your purple button up shirt, though that was partially hidden by a black vest. Two hankies hung out of your back, left pocket, similar to Molly’s keychain. One was rust colored, but the other was a complimentary gray; Mike thought it was an interesting stylistic choice.

“I’ll just have a beer, thanks.”

As the bartender turned, scribbling in a notebook, you inquired, “So, what’s a fine boy like you doing ‘round these parts?”

Mike grabbed the foaming beer that was placed in front of him, “I live nearby.”

“That’s not the only reason, is it?”

He hesitated to answer, instead choosing to take a long sip of the beverage. It burned down his throat, the flavor making his lips curl and his head a little more dizzy. Somehow, it loosened his will, and he found his lips moving without his permission. Your energy was just hypnotizing; he felt himself being pulled in.

“Needed a break from stress,” Mike admitted, picking at the glass’ label.

You cocked your head to the side, your hat tipping upward, “Just ‘cause you’re in a hole, doesn’t mean you gotta keep digging. Alcohol isn’t the cure to what you’re feelin’.”

“What am I supposed to do? Not even my medicine works anymore.”

“I go here for stress relief too,” you assured, downing a shot, “but not necessarily for the drinks.”

Your hand hovered over the small of his back, looking at him for consent. When he didn’t move away, you settled your fingers there, feeling a shiver run through Mike’s body. Some of the previous tension released from his shoulders, and he almost leaned back in relief. Many of the customers in this bar were paired with the same sex, unlike most of the movies he’d seen that included the subject. So, he supposed it wouldn’t look too weird if he did.

You elaborated, “People can be cruel, can’t they, sweetheart? Comin’ to a place like this, where everyone’s like me in some way or another, is a damn good bonus.”

“Like you?”

“Y’know,” you gestured to your handkerchiefs, “queer and such.”

He paused, “Ah.”

“You didn’t know this was a boy bar?”

Mike replied, “I kinda just looked up the closest bar to my house.”

…

“Good to know.” Your hand fell away from his back.

He almost chased it. Mike liked the feeling, the weight of your fingers pressing into such an intimate spot. However, he wasn’t tipsy enough for that, and controlled himself. He watched as you spoke to Molly, the lady’s eyes flicking towards him and back, and you slipped her the money needed to cover the tab. You tipped your hat towards Mike, a respectful way to put distance between you, before disappearing into the suffocating crowd. Molly side eyed him, sweeping away his bottle, before leaving as well. Mike swallowed, pulling loose skin from his bottom lip with his teeth. It was now, or never– perhaps alcohol wasn’t the only way, after all. You were right.

Mike could still see the very top of your hat swerving above the crowd, and he trailed after it to the best of his ability. A random girl almost elbowed him in the face, and he was sure his shins would be bruised after tonight. Your shadow was reflecting in the glass door, growing fainter and fainter as you walked further away, your hips swaying. Mike pushed it open, the vision dissolving, and cold air stung his cheeks. The moon reflected off of car hoods, the only way he was able to see where he was running. His hand reached out and grabbed your arm, as you flinched.

Mike’s ears were red, probably from the alcohol, and you stared at him, “What’re you doing?”

“I don’t know,” was the only answer you got before your collar was jerked forward.

Your lips crashed violently with his; your teeth clicking as he struggled to pull you closer. Mike was still fisting your shirt as you brought your hands to cup his jaw and the back of his neck, trying to gentle the kiss.

You mumbled against his mouth, “Better not be some experiment of yours, pretty boy.”

“Nope,” he whispered, the aftertaste of whiskey on his tongue.

His back hit the side of your car, and his hands moved from your collar to swinging his arms around your neck. Your knee found its way in between Mike’s thighs, pressing against his crotch, and his groan was swallowed by your lips. Mike whined when you trailed down, aiming instead for his neck. Dark marks and bites soon decorated the pale flesh, his blood dripping a contrasting splash of color.

Tugging on his earlobe, you challenged, “Gonna come back to my place?”

Mike doubted he ever agreed to something so quickly.

The drive was long, too long in his opinion. Though, it was most likely only fifteen minutes, at most. Mike didn’t even have to walk up the driveway to your cabin; his legs were locked around your hips as you carried him through the door and up the stairs. He ground his groin against you, searching for any possible friction. You tossed him onto your bed, unbuckling your belt, holding it taut. The man in front of you wiggled back and spread his legs to make room for you. You snickered at how willing Mike was, considering his hesitation when you first met.

You regularly kept lube on the bedside table, just to be prepared for when you brought men home from the bar. However, this one was different in a way you had trouble putting into words, other than positive. His thighs shook as you massaged the liquid into his hole, a hand covering his mouth to prevent you from hearing his noises. Ah, now that wouldn’t do, would it?

In response, you tugged his hand off of his mouth, “Lemme hear you.”

Such pretty sounds from a pretty mouth, it was truly a shame. When Mike immediately went back to covering them up, you slid your fingers out of him, instead reaching for your abandoned belt. His eyes trailed after your hands as they bound his wrists together in front of him, almost akin to handcuffs. Mike couldn’t see much of your expression after your head dipped down, only the shit-eating grin playing on your lips. Of course, that was before you took your hat off by the crown and placed it firmly on his head, though it was a tad too big for him.

“Why don’t you keep that safe for me, sweetheart?”

For a second, Mike was confused. Keep it safe? Just what were you planning on doing? He felt a grip on his waist, right before his world spun around him, and the positions were practically reversed. The guard was now sitting on top of you, or more so your crotch, his thighs caging in your hips. Mike’s hair was disheveled and the light on the ceiling created a sort of halo around him, and fuck, did you think he was pretty. Only a few select people had ever gotten to wear your hat, and you could confidently say that he was the most beautiful in it.

You unbuttoned your jeans, letting your cock slip through the opening, “You ready?”

“I’ve never done this before.”

You had a grip on his waist again, slowly guiding him down. You didn’t thrust, didn’t force him to go fast, and allowed him his proper time to adjust, “How’s that feelin’?”

“G-good,” he shuddered, precum leaking from his tip, “think ‘m ready.”

“You haven’t seen the brunt of it yet, boy!” You grunt, thrusting the rest of you inside, brushing against Mike’s prostate.

The man on top of you moaned, and the sound was so uncharacteristically loud that even he seemed surprised by it. Mike leaned down, resting his tied fists on your chest in order to keep his balance. His sweat dampened your collarbones, his drool smearing on your neck, and the pathetic excuse of a guard tried leaving kisses over the areas he could reach. You soon found a rhythm to your thrusts; groans were punched out of your throat on their own.

Mike could feel heat rushing through his brain, bringing tears that stuck to his eyelashes, covering any thoughts or hesitance he may have had before. That wasn’t enough for it– it spread like wildfire down his body, down to where your fingers were leaving bruises, and down to his red, leaking dick. Something deep was brewing inside of him, nothing he’s felt since his hormonal teenage years. Hell, he didn’t even have time to process it when you kissed his cheek, whispering in his ear that he’s such a needy slut; it exploded.

When he finally came to, he could feel his thighs twitching and your heaving, sticky abs below him. His eyelids felt heavy, and all he wanted to do was stay there with you. You were rubbing circles into his back, attempting to pull out, but a grumble from Mike made you stop. In fact, you were saying things, but it sounded muffled and far away. He took great comfort in your voice, no matter what you were talking about. It was getting farther and farther away, yet still managed to follow him into his dreams. For the first time since the incident with Garret, he did not have a nightmare.

Taglist: @cannabrisano @kai_beanz @fandomz-brainrot @slimemakermas

#x male reader #male reader #lgbtq #male y/n #gay #cowboy reader #fnaf #fnaf movie #five nights at freddys #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x male reader #x top male reader #top male reader #x dom male reader #dom male reader #bottom character

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llamagoddessofficial · 8 months

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Hello hello! This is Relating to the prison au and the idea suddenly came to me but how would it differ if the mc was a a lot younger like an intern? I tried searching more if it was even allowed to be a med student intern in a prison but I dunno I just thought it was a neat idea, like if she appeared like an optimistic platonic younger sister more than a romantic interest? Aaaa sorry English isn't my first language I hope the idea got through ^^'

I want to congratulate you, anon... you're the first person in a long time to ask something related to prison au that has never been asked before!

Sans: Unfortunately, he'll be even worse. More manipulative, more possessive... more evil. With an older Mc he might see her as easy to manipulate, but he still absolutely views her as her own person- he'd do bad stuff but he (at least) would still respect her opinions and choices. When she's young, he does not respect her opinions and choices. She's just a kid who doesn't know better, someone who needs him to make the big decisions on her behalf.

The worst part is, once he attaches, he sees her like a little sister. It really fucks up his mind- all of those messy, dark, painful feelings about Papyrus, all that unresolved grief from losing one younger sibling... he doesn't care what happens to anyone. Or anything. So long as he doesn't lose any more family.

He's kind to her; oh-so-kind, a sweet and goofy older brother figure who makes terrible puns and chats to her for hours about her favourite videogames. But he's a terrifying empty creature, and he's absolutely going to use her youth and inexperience to his advantage, to make her trust him more than everyone else. Nothing is off the table.

Red: Red adores her. Much like Sans, he ends up in something of a 'big brother' role- the difference is that Red's connection with her is a lot healthier and gentler, with a decent amount of friendly 'fighting' (tossing harmless insults at each other). He turns into a different person around her; he minds his language somewhat, he manages his temper better, although he teases her his teasing never has any venom and he'll drop jokes that upset her. He was built to be a big brother, and he misses his Papyrus a lot- it feels good to have a bond like that with someone again.

(Speaking of Papyrus- he loves Mc too. He sees the effect she has on Red and he absolutely wants to encourage the positive growth. Also... he always wanted a younger sibling.)

Red makes jokes about giving her contraband or getting her in trouble, and her presence in his life has put her firmly on the inmate no-touch list. Red may be a criminal, and he may associate with people who have done terrible things... but he reserves the worst of the worst punishments for those who hurt kids, and his family. Let alone both.

She's been adopted by the mob.

Skull: Skull's intense feelings about Mc in the prison aus aren't really specifically romantic or platonic in the first place. It's his Soul crying out for love and connection after so long alone. They're just Skull Feelings- so a platonic Mc would see the same degree of insanity, desperation and clinginess from our darling cannibal as her older nurse counterpart.

But... I think he would be a bit better with her, overall. Mc being noticeably younger, in his eyes, makes her more 'fragile'- both emotionally and physically. That nagging thought of i need to be careful and responsible would centre him a little more, make him more aware, gentle and slow. In the same way he wouldn't want to frighten a small child, he doesn't want to frighten her; he moves like hes trying not to spook away a small animal. He'd be better at smiling.

... He would still get moments where he can't help himself. Moments where he snaps out of restraints and grabs her, moments where he attacks other staff for getting too close to her. But he tries.

#llamagines #prison au #i can never escape it #not that im complaining #love this au #sans 24/7 manages his image so she'll always come to him first... he's so silly and easy to speak to #she tells him everything and he 'tells her everything' too #meanwhile red is like ''hey shortie. short lil hobbit. you keep talkin' to me like that and ill put knives in your bag to get you fired.''

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svgvru · 9 months

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✮ 𝗡𝗢𝗡𝗡𝗜𝗘 𝗔𝗦𝗞𝗘𝗗: idk if you'll accept this request, but some jjk men x male reader head-canons of them taking care of depressed!reader? (they're secretlyin love with him) maybe a gf or friend died or smth and they notice reader is becoming depressed?

𝗗𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗔𝗖𝗧! ꒰ gojo, geto, nanami, yuuta / m!reader ꒱: mentions of death,depression, weight loss, panic attacks, ptsd, and anxiety. angst, hurt/comfort, these hcs are alot take caution.

𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐑 isnt for the faint of heart, but sometimes there is no choice. and something that comes with the price of being a sorcerer is that death constantly surrounds you. whether or not your partner is a sorcerer or not, they could be killed at any moment. and you were aware of that, but in the moment pain unlike any other struck. it hurt, it burned, it made you want to throw things, fight, anything to relief the pain. they watched when you brutally killed the cause of your partner's death, anger and grief coated on your face. it hurt for them to see you like this. so broken, unlike how you are normally. when they wished they were with you, that you didn't already have someone, thi sis not what they meant. so they do everything in their power to help you feel better.

SATORU GOJO

꒰ satoru would be the man to give you some space. whether it was him during his teenage years or him in his adult life. he understands how it feels to lose someone, and to grief. so at first he gives youspace, offering help to you if you need it, carefully keeping watch on you while sticking to a distance. and after a while, bandage or blindfold, he could tell something was wrong. you stopped talking, stopped eating, your uniform didn't quite fit anymore. he didn't notice it until he thought about the times youpushed away his generous offers of sweet treats. he noticed the eyebags, and the dullness of your once bright eyes. he had to help.

꒰ the regret (PTSD) that he wasn't able to save his best friend years ago still stuck to him. he mentally punished himself for missing the signs that something was wrong, that suguru needed. there was no way, he was going to let the man he loves so much reach the level that suguru went to. he quicklyand desperately lunged to help. he reached out hishand and no matter if you pushed him away, cursed him out, threw something at him, he'll drop infinity and wrap you in his gargantuan arms and gave you ahug you desprately needed. he gives you the intimacy you pushed away from. he lets you cry on intimacy you pushed away from. he lets you cry on his shoulder, just holding you, no matter how long it takes, he'll hold you until you fall asleep in his arms. he'd never put you down, he probably wouldn't say a word.

꒰ talk? he'll listen. need to punch something? he'll train with you. his hands were gentlewith you, they wipe away your tears and hold you close, giving you the warmth you so desperately need. and slowly but surely he'l encourage you. he'll delicately push you to hang out with him and shoko once in a while. he'll hand you small meals that get abit bigger after a certain time. he'l give you his sweets and ever so carefully slide his hand intoyours. and if you jerk back he won't get mad, hell be hurt, but he understands. he respects your boundaries. but if you let him hold your hand, you'll see the happiest satoru giggling about some prankhe pulled on nanami. he'l slowly do somewhat romantic things, or he'll plan things that force you to socialize.

꒰ would carefully test the waters with you throughtout the years. he never wanted to be too soon with making his feelings known, so he was patient and waited until you looked much healthier. he waits until you finally start choosing to social,choosing to smile, to go on missions again. satoru gojo loves you, he always will, even if you don't love him back. but he'll always make subtle tries. whether it be jokes or slight touches, testing what he can and cannot do. regardless, he's there for you. no matterwhat. he might not be the best at communicating his emotions, or comforting your own. but he lets you know he's there, waiting with a free hug. as afriend or boyfriend. and if he gets to call you his husband? that's even better.

SUGURU GETO

꒰ suguru would also be someone who tries togive you space, but he just doesn't. like most jujutsu sorcerers do, he understands the pain of losing someone. and he knows what happened to himself after amanai's death. he never wants you to go through the same struggle he went through. so while he'l let you grieve how you do, he's paying close attention to and sticking to you, making sure youdon't decline. he'd do anything for you to make youheal correctly instead of just temporaryily stapling the wound like he did. whether that be sitting fully clothed in the bath with you, or being the big spoon and holding you for hours. if you just couldn't keepup with your hygiene like you used to, he'l cut your hair for you, help you brush your teeth. if you really need help bathing, he'll help with that too. he'll just remain extremely concerned for your wellbeing.

꒰ when i say watches you, i mean watches you. there's no "summer stress" excuse with him. (i think) he's one to be gentle with you, while be firm. he's not one to yell at you, but will use a stern voice to encourage you if need be. if you are one to have panic attacks, the first time it happened, it freaked him out. he pretty much didn't leave you after that. however, he learned how to calm you down, how to help. its hurts him to see such a strong man so ruined, and the curse that harmed your partner was by far one of the worst tasting ones. but no matter what, he'll hold you. your back to his chest and his arms wrapped securely around you, encouraging you to take deep breaths, attempting to ground you in any way he could.

꒰ this experience is probably one where the two of you get closer. he'd never, push you too far, or even try anything intimate with you unless you let him. the farthest he's ever gone is maybe a hug that he got a nod of approval for. but if you need it, he'll cradle your head to his chest and likely hum to get you to fall asleep (something he used to do with nanako and mimiko). after a while, his humming isone of the only ways to get you to fall asleep. and he'll do it everytime without fail. suguru wants you, he does. and every night he hums to help you sleephe wishes he could hold you and kiss your foreheadhe wishes he could provide more intimate comfort, he wouldn't dare ask for. however, when your eyes bags start to disappear and your no longer looking as ifyour lugging around your limbs he finds the tiniest bit of hope. but no matter what, suguru is a man of consent. and he'll wait, and wait. carefully takingcare of you, treating you like glass, while hee ncourages you do things. he'll wait until he can finally hold your hand. the time suguru geto would wait for you never has a limit. he'll always wait for you, whether it be with a comforting hug or a kiss.

KENTO NANAMI

꒰ who better to understand you than him? kento nanami who lost his other half, Yuu Haibara, at the age of 16. he understands perfectly, which is why he doesn't leave you alone. if you explicitly ask for space, he'll give it to you. but otherwise, he's not leaving you be at all. he knows your a strong man, he's seen you fight. but nothing could break a man more than losing the person he loves. and he saw you lose your person and his heart broke along with yours. this man cannot stand seeing you sad ordepressed. the second he notices signs that go beyond the five stages of grief, he interferes. like suguru, he's one to be gentle while using a firm tone. he'll hold you like you're glass, but he'll also drag youalong to supervise gojo's students. he'll let you pour your feelinga out on him, but he'll tell you eat a quarter, then a half, then three-fourths, then the whole meal. he won't be aggressive, but he'll still be like.."eat" (gradually over time though! he doesn't want to push you that rough).

꒰ now he coped by being a workaholic, if your that type he has to dive into hypocrite mode and tell you to sit down for once. if you don't cope that way, but another negative way, he will do anything in hispower to stop you. if something he does in particular comforts you, then he'll keep doing it. he'll speak to you calmly, and let you rest your head on hisshoulder despite not being a touchy person. if need be he'll let you sleep over at his apartment and personally cook you breakfast. and despite how annoying gojo may be, kento does recognize that he often raises the atmosphere of the room to being more playful, so he does suggest hanging out with gojo and his students a lot.

꒰ now he's not an intimate person, and i don't think he'd ever try anything intimate with you. he understands that loosing a part of you hurts, and he would never accidentally hurt you by trying to be bold. he'salso not a physically intimate person. so yes, he does love you, so much. he'd do anything for you, but he'd never outright say or show it, especially after your tradegy. even years later, he'd likely not say much about his feelings. someone like gojo would have to convince him to say something to you or else he'l be stuck with the feeling unrequited love till the day he dies. but regardless, he respects boundaries and doesn't try to be as risky. if you don't like him, he'll have to deal with that. if you do decide to give it atry, he's literally ecstatic, but only in his head. he'll give you one his rare smiles and maybe hold yourhand.

YUUTA OKKOTSU

꒰ (OH GOD). yuuta's almost sharing the experience with you. he's re-experiencing what he went through, and he hates it. not that he would regret his relationship rika, but rather he hates that he has to experience you going through what he had to. hes so scrambly and worried. his mind is constantly running through different thoughts and how to help you. he likes you, so of course hell help you. but how? he gets anxious that he's bothering you, thathes making the process worse as he tries to stick toyou and let you talk about it him. (oh, its over for him if your an angry griever). regardless, yuuta has good ears. as in he's a good listener. he'd let you ramble, scream (he'd jump), cry, anything. he'd listen to youand validate your feelings. if you'llet him he'd carefully play with your hair and tell you he understands, he'l tell you how he'll do anything to help. i also think he's fantastic at hugs. to matter how jittery or anxious he may be, if you need a good hug and shoulder to cry on, he's right there.

꒰ when it comes to your physical health, he doesn't play. he's still kind of nervous when it comesto encouraging you. but if he starts to notic eeyebags, or loss in your weight (trust. hell notice), he immediately does everything in his power to help you. and he tries to be as happy as he can, thinking that maybe his happiness would eventually spread to you, or at least boost your attitude. he'd run to youwill a meal the both of you can share so you don't feel intimidating by having to eat a whole meal again, if you stopped. he'd suggest the both of you getting haircuts together if you let your hair grow too long. when it comes to stuff like that he suggets doing it together so you don't feel alone, so you don't feel like your terrible for letting this happen. if your hygiene got bad he'd never ridicule you or anything. yuuta would tell you its okay and like i said, offer getting haircuts for the both of you, offer getting clothes together, he'd try and encorperate your schedules together without being too pushy.

꒰ yuuta would be very nervous when it comes to the fact that he still loves you. the last time he was remotely in love with someone, he got hit by car and he accidentally cursed her. he's never really experienced healthy romance, or a a healthy life. he never really desired love, with the assumption rika would always come in between, preventing him from having healthy human interactions. but when it came to you, he's never wanted a relationship so bad. and he still wants you, but in understanding what its like to lose someone you love, he never pushes. he never tries to touch you too intimately or suggest intimate things. he's patient, he'll wait for you if he needs to. even if you don't like him like that, he'll always be available to you as someone you can go to for anything. he'd be in pain just like he was when you started dating someone else. but he knows its painful and hard to come back from losing someone so important. if you do heal, if you do want him like he wants you, he'd probably cry. but for right now he'll just remain someone you could trust and talk to.

꒰ n: repost from my original acc! i still hope i did this, and their characters, justice tho. ꒱

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elvenbeard · 6 days

Text

Old and Happy

😭 my feels have been all over the place since I finally finished this! Don't even remember when I started, as I kept working on and off on it over a couple of months. But I think it was after writing something particularly angsty and going "you know what, they will get their happy ending though, so it's all good".

Some details and thoughts below the read more cause it got long hhhh ;A;

This is in about 2087 maybe, roughly "ten years later". Vince changed his hair, ditched the rattail for good (or again xD) for something still colorful but a bit more easy to style. But he might change it up again, he's done so repeatedly and still likes to experiment with his hair.

Not visible, he probably would've added some elements to his back tattoo after surviving all of 2077. Johnny's tattoo he covered up as well, he would've done that first probably before the back piece. Adding some things here and there over time, with colors and patterns and wings, some cherry blossoms ('cause a thing of beauty will never truly fade away - hence just not getting laser removal but covering it with something that suits him more, but keeping some elements like the J and V visible). It started with three roses below the "V" as a little homage to Jackie, and 2077 as the year that finally put him on the right track in his life, even if it almost killed him in the process.

Overall he is a healthier weight than he was for most of his life, and finally got some therapy he desperately needed to deal with all the crap he went through pre-2077 already. He's not dyeing his first grey hairs because hell, that he's even still around to get some is amazing with his line of work and life story. And he realized that there's no need to be super well put togeher 24/7, clean shaven and whatnot, when you know you're just gonna be hanging out with your man and cat all weekend (and actually allowing yourself to something like that - leisure time and pizza in bed, unheard of to 2077!Vince). He's doing good and feels good and comfortable, physically and mentally.

Kerry also changed, also embracing the dad bod over abs, probably still experimenting with his looks a lot now and then whenever the label feels like they need to draw attention to him for whatever reason. But to the brown eyes he returned in 2078 already in my headcanon for the Sun ending timeline, and he stuck with them.

Overall I think he might finally care a little less about other people's opinions too, the buzz and the drama, cause he knows that at the end of the day there's always gonna be someone waiting for him at home who loves him unconditionally. He's a bit calmer and at ease, but of course still up to no good whenever he gets the chance to stir shit up xD Vince and him remain to be a dangerous duo you don't wanna mess with. At that point Vince is a well-respected, even if somewhat elusive, fixer, so he's probably even more dangerous now than he used to be as a mere merc with an arsenal of connections and resources at his disposal that can almost rival Kerry's.

I also gave Kerry a lil new cyberware piece on his hand - he is an old man and I think, using his hands as a musician on the daily, at some point there's just gonna be some wear and tear to your bones and joints only tech can fix anymore... Especially if you're stubborn and refuse to retire cause no, you're not done yet, you still have so much to yell into the world and music to make, stuff to add to your legacy and all.

Last but not least: Nibbles is an old lady already as well here, but living her best life with her dads spoiling her rotten, of course!

And then öalkshjdfagsdföasgdfaösfh ;___;

Y'know, "to bad decisions" and all, and two very different pieces still fitting together perfectly somehow, and light and shadows, and the sun and moon and yeah. ;___; Brb crying, the feels are back xD

Thanks so much for reading if you made it this far!! They mean so much to me and aösdjhfajsfhasfk could go on forever about every little detail xD On to the next drawing!

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #Cyberpunk2077 #cyberpunk fanart #cp2077 fanart #cyberpunk 2077 fanart #kerry eurodyne #kerry eurodyne x v #cyberpunk v #male v cyberpunk #masc v #otp: to bad decisions #art by me #screaming crying öakjshdfaasdfasfdhf #already been yelling on discord about trying to put everything into words for the past few days xDD #now I finally did it

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shaylixie · 1 year

Text

Going Home

Word Count: 2k

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Bang Chan x fem!reader

Requested: No.

Part 2

Summary: Chan and Y/n get into a fight, causing one of them to leave.

Warnings / Contains: Language; toxic behaviour.

A/N: The way I write this shit but I'd never act like this irl lmao...I'd like to believe I'd be a lot healthier about it but hey, do it for the angst amirite? Enjoy! 💗

You come home and take your shoes off at the door of your apartment, feeling defeated after yet another shitty day at work. The past month has been hell - work has been so hectic and insane and you barely got a breather. To make things worse, Chan was having his own struggles too, and you hardly had time for each other...which you thought would have made the little time you spent together more special, but it just felt strained. It was getting late, and you desperately needed a hot bath and a meal. The first proper one of the day - that muffin from the morning did a good job sustaining you, but you really really needed something more.

You walked in to the kitchen to find Chan sitting at the table with takeout - God, you completely forgot.

"Channie, hi. Fuck! I'm so sorry, baby. Work finished later than planned and I completely forgot and...are you mad?"

He gave you a tight smile. "It's okay, y/n. I know how things are. The food is cold now though...we should warm it up."

You sighed and sat down at the table. "I feel like shit, Chan. I really am sorry. Why didn't you eat without me?"

"You know I'd never do that," Chan says. "Hey, you're here now. Let's just eat, okay?"

You have a feeling he's trying to appear less hurt than he is, but you dish out the food anyway for both of you and heat it up. You eat together in silence, trying to ignore the slight tension in the air. Afterwards, you get up to wash the dishes and Chan finally speaks up.

"How was your day?"

You can tell he's trying to ignore the tension in the room and move past it, so you do your best to do the same, while remaining as honest as possible.

You sigh. "It was shit. Again."

"I'm sorry," Chan replies.

"It's okay. Not your fault. Anyway. I'm gonna go shower, okay?"

He clears his throat. "Yeah, sure. Let me know if you need anything."

You kiss his cheek and make your way to the bathroom.

When you get into bed, Chan is turned the other way, already asleep...or so you think. You switch the bedside light off and turn to sleep too. It's silent for a while until Chan turns over and runs a hand down your side, stopping at your hip. He presses against you then, and you feel exactly why he's still awake. But after the shitty day - no, month - that you've had, you just don't have it in you. You ignore it, and act like you're asleep. Maybe not the healthiest move, but you're too exhausted to think about it too much.

"Baby?" Chan whispers. "You awake?"

"No," you reply.

He sighs then and flops onto his back, letting out a sigh of defeat. After a few moments, he shakes your arm and then turns to put his bedside light on.

"Y/n, can we talk?" he asks, tone firmer than usual.

"Can it wait?"

"No, no I don't think it can."

You sit up then.

"What going on with us?" he finally asks after weeks of wondering.

"What do you mean?" you ask, knowing but wanting him to elaborate more.

"You mean you haven't noticed? God, we haven't talked in ages. I mean a real conversation. Everything always feels like a string is about to snap...the constant tension...I can't stand it. I don't even know what's happening." It's as though a valve opened, and now everything is pouring out. "Look...you're busy, I get that. But I am too - yet I'm trying, y/n. It feels like you aren't. You come home late. You never come by me anymore...not to the studio, not to my place. It's been what, a month? Maybe more? It feels like more. We don't talk, we don't touch...when's the last time we even had sex? It's like you don't want to even touch me anymore. I don't know if I did something but I don't know what to do anymore. I'm trying...and it feels...it feels like you aren't. Like you haven't been for a while."

He waits for your response, and you feel tears pricking the back of your eyes. Which makes you frustrated...which makes you angry.

"What the fuck do you want me to do, Chris?!"

He's taken aback by your sudden burst of anger.

"I'm tired. Okay? I'm fucking exhausted. I-I don't even know what to do myself. I barely sleep. Or eat. I'm stressed all the time. I feel like I don't even have time for myself let alone you and now what, it's my fault? Fuck this."

You get up from bed and leave the room. Chan sits for a while in stunned silence. What just happened? Fuck it, he's pissed too now.

He follows after you. "Really, y/n? You're gonna take this shit out on me? I'm trying to help us - get us out of whatever the fuck you got us into - and you what, just explode on me? I'm trying to fix us!"

"And what if you can't, Chris?! What if this can't be fixed?"

He looks at you like you just cussed him in 3 different languages. "You really think that?"

"Fucking maybe!"

He laughs a humourless laugh and then shakes his head at you.

"That's all I needed to hear. Fuck this."

He grabs his keys and slips on his shoes, slamming the door behind him and leaving you alone in the dark flat, the tears finally falling down your cheeks.

It's been hours and you still can't sleep. You sob thinking about your fight with Chan; about what you said; what you insinuated. Was it really beyond fixing? You think about what Chan said. He's right...you haven't been making time for him. You haven't spoken the way you used to in what feels like a while. You haven't touched each other lovingly or sexually in a minute and you've ignored his every advance. And he had been trying...Chan was just as stressed out. His deadlines were all coming up and he was suffering with writer's block and he had an appearance soon and the Kids were behind and and and. Yet he still made time for you. Even if it was small. He still came to your place almost every night, even if it was after you fell asleep. He still made sure you ate and he checked in when he could and he always tried to act like things were okay, even if they weren't. He never wanted to add onto your stress. God. You were a dick. You don't deserve him, you think, crying harder. And the cherry on top? In a few days, you'll finally have a break. So much for that now.

It's been 3 heartaching days since the fight with Chan. You haven't spoken in that time, but you can't say it's his fault. The day after, neither of you spoke. The next day, he sent you a message. "Can we talk?" You ignored it. He called that same night, but you declined. He got the message. The third day, he called 4 times. You ignored all the calls. You knew what you had to do.

At 4am that morning, you woke up and started getting ready. You got out of the shower and dressed, hair still wet, when you heard urgent knocking at your door. You opened it, only to see Chan - bags under his slightly red, puffy eyes and hair dishevelled. Your own face probably looked the same.

"Y/n, can we talk? Please?" He paused as if finally noticing you were dressed and your hair was wet. "Where are you going?"

You sighed. "Home," you said in a small voice.

Chan furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "But you're already home?"

You looked down, and then back at him.

"I mean home Chan...as in South Africa. I'm going back."

He stopped breathing. "What?"

"This isn't working out, Chan. I don't...I don't deserve you. My flight is in 2 hours. I need to get to the airport now. I'll be gone for a while but I have to come back to decide what happens next. Maybe we can talk then."

You move to close the door on him, but he stops you.

"What- You're ending things?"

Now it was your turn to be confused. "Didn't that happen 3 days ago?"

"Y/n, no. It was just a stupid fight! It doesn't mean anything. Don't do this, please. We can work things out. Cancel the flight. Please. Baby...please."

You feel your eyes sting with fresh tears, and you turn to walk to your bedroom to get your things, knowing that trying to get Chan to leave is useless. As you suspected, he follows you and stands behind you as you go to grab a jacket, ignoring your wet hair now. No point drying it while he's here...you had to get out as soon as possible. You go to grab your suitcases, trying painfully hard not to look at Chan whose face is streaked with tears too. You deposit the suitcases at your front door and slip on your shoes, making sure you have everything. Chan watches you do all this, still in shock, as though he doesn't believe any of it is real...like it's just one big nightmare.

"You have to go now, Chan," you sigh. "Or at least, I have to. I can't miss this flight. I'll see you around."

You turn to walk out the door but you stop when you feel his hands wrap around your calves. Looking down, Chan is on his knees, the same way he's been so many times before for you, but so so different now.

"Please," he croaks. He's sobbing now, and he drops his head against your leg. "I'll do anything. Please just don't go. You want me to beg? I'll beg! Please, y/n. I'll make things right...I'll fix this. I'll fix us. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fuck things up between us...I'm so so sorry, baby. I love you so much...please, please...please, baby. Please."

You're sobbing too now. You kneel down, facing him, and take his face in your hands, wiping his tears. In between shuddering breaths, you say, "That's the thing, Chan. You don't have to fix anything. You weren't the one that broke it...that was all me. I don't deserve you, Channie. Maybe I did once, but not anymore. You deserve someone better." You cry harder at the thought of him with someone else. Composing yourself enough to talk, you add, "You deserve someone who can love you where I failed to...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, baby." You kiss his forehead.

"That's bullshit, y/n! I know you love me. And it's enough! It's enough for me. Look, a lot of shit has just been happening to us but we can fix it. Okay? Just give us a chance. Fuck anyone else - I don't want anyone else. I want YOU! You're all I've ever wanted and I'll never-" He breaks down sobbing again. "I'll never want anyone besides you. You hear me? Stay. Stay for me, baby. Please."

You both break down even more then, foreheads against each other. You stay like that for a while before you glimpse the time. You still had to drive to the airport and check in your luggage and board and-. You had to leave. You move to stand, pulling Chan up with you. You hug him, and eventually force yourself to let go.

"If it's meant to be...it'll be. Yeah?" you say.

Chan just sniffs in response, fresh tears brewing.

"I'll see you when I get back and then...well, we can see from there. Okay?"

"So it's not over?" he asks.

You kiss his cheek and hand him your key. "Lock up for me?"

You grab your suitcases and make your way to the car, leaving a heartbroken, devastated Chan behind.

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ghouljams · 10 months

Note

as a fetch superfan, is she want konig needs?

like is there fetch angst or is she just a sex doll for konig

Fetch is what König needs! There's not exactly angst with them, but König sort of realizes she's not just a weapon/sex toy after a while. What König needs is a rock in the storm, and a light at the end of the tunnel. Despite her nature, Fetch is incredibly stable, she's a very good fit for him.

Unlike in the Cowboy AU in this one König sort of knows he's never getting out, Fetch is proof that he's too far gone, but that doesn't stop him from wanting some normalcy. I think König is looking for escape when he's not in the field, and instead of his old methods of drugs, alcohol, women, now he has Fetch. Who is waaaaay healthier and also more than happy to play house with him, which some buried part of him desperately wants.

Anyway, here's the "Oh my god I think I'm in love with her" moment.

You pet your fingers through König's hair, scratch at his scalp idly, he's gotten cuddly recently. You think it's because you've been on leave so long. It's weird to think there's a season for hiring mercenaries, but you guess there's highs and lows in every business. König's arms tighten around your waist, his face pressed against your stomach, half in your lap, half stretched out over the bed. He's gotten more comfortable with you seeing his face. Which is fantastic for you, because it means you don't have to feel bad about sneaking peaks of it.

It's been sort of nice to be on leave. You rented a little furnished apartment, month to month of course, and spent most of your time watching shitty television and going grocery shopping. You'd never been grocery shopping before. It was fun, it's fun just existing with König. It's weird, you sort of thought you'd be spending more time having sex, but things have been surprisingly tame. You're starting to get a little worried he can only get going if he's killed someone recently.

König has never been so comfortable, never been so relaxed. He'd been worried, leave is always interminable, always leaves him restless and wandering; looking for something, anything to take some of the edge off. He isn't made to exist outside the battlefield anymore. Too many soft edges filed to sharp points. He can take the edge off, but it always comes back, never stays quiet for long. It's never as good as the first time.

How was it that you only got better? Your excitement was almost infectious, thrilled to do something as simple as going to the shop. His hand clasped tightly in yours as you dragged him down the aisles. He wasn't used to seeing you out in broad daylight, but it was nice, it felt natural. It felt soft.

That was weeks ago, you should've worn off by now. So why does he find himself clinging to you, hoping you don't? Why do you spend more time talking, more time just holding each other, than fucking? Little bags of white powder abandoned on the coffee table, liquor bottles barely touched, he doesn't know where the edge stopped. When he stopped being scared of what would happen if he crashed. He already did, and you were there to catch him.

"Say my name," König asks you, voice muffled against the shirt you're wearing. That's another thing he's discovered recently. You know him. Know him in a way so thoroughly redacted by even the most highly classified documents that it could only come from being bound to his very being.

You rattle it off like it's nothing, first middle last. It might be nothing to you, but it's not nothing to König. He hasn't heard his name in years, his operator's name is the only one anyone living should know. His mother is long gone, family all but forgotten, but you hum his name and stroke his hair and he is overwhelmed with feeling. It chokes in his chest, big and nameless. Although that's not entirely true, he knows its name the same way you know his.

"You have so many thoughts running through you," You whisper. You've started speaking German when you're alone together, you must know he likes it. The familiar tones and grammar lull him in a way König thought must be lost to him. "What are you thinking about?" He knows you only ask for his comfort, that if you really wanted you could peal back the layers of him and hear them yourself. When did he come to trust you so wholly?

"You," He says plainly. You hum, a wordless ask to keep talking if he wants. Your fingers scratch at the base of his scalp, every comfort in the world laid out to him. "I love you," The words feel like peanut butter in his mouth, thick, sticky. They don't want to move past his teeth. He feels your fingers still.

If it were anyone else maybe he would've been scared to say it. Worried you wouldn't feel the same. But you've loved him since day one, devoted, obsessed, König has never worried about your feelings for him. Not when they're so clear.

"I love you too," You resume your petting. König smiles against you, buries himself further into your comfort. He's never heard you say it aloud before.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

#cod x reader #x reader #demon!darlings au #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #König x oc #oc: fetch #tw drugs #they're just mentioned but still wanna put that on there #cod x oc

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justmeinadaze · 7 months

Text

I Miss The Misery (Steve X You)

"Just know that I'll make you hurt

(I miss the lies and the pain what you did to me)

When you tell me you'll make it worse

(I'd rather fight all night than watch the TV)

I hate that feeling inside

You tell me how hard you'll try

But when we're at our worst

I miss the misery."

A/N: From my previous post, I mentioned I've been feeling some type of way and every time I hear this song I think of mean Steve every time.

Warnings: Mean, Toxic Steve X Fem Slightly Toxic Y/N, SMUT of the rougher variety, public sex (bathroom, office), daddy kink (cause im me), smacking, choking, degrading (brat, whore), ANGST, some gas lighting from Stevie, he's definitely not a good guy, cheating (mentions of him cheating on her; reader cheats on bf), she talks about how his behavior excites her sexually but she's aware of how toxic that kind of thinking is. I think that's all.

Kind of inspired by an ex I had and the way he treated me. He bounced off of each other negatively and I remember telling my therapist that I thought the reason I kept going back to him was because "at least I feel something." I haven't seen him in 4 years so Yay for healthy relationships! :)

Doesn't mean we cant enjoy some toxic smut with Steve Harrington.

Word Count: 6317

“Hey, honey. Rough day?”, you coo at your boyfriend as he comes through the front door with a heavy elongated sigh.

“Yeah. These assholes that bought our company are changing everything and it’s starting to piss me off.”, he grumbles while taking a seat at the dinner table as you crawl into his lap and kiss his temple.

“You should say something. Tell your boss you’re sick of the changes and the disrespect. They need you and your team, baby.”

“Naw.”, he gently smiles as he hugs you tighter. “It’s fine. I’ll get over it.”

Smothering your own frustrated sigh, you grin as you kiss his lips before heading back to the kitchen to finish the meal you were making. You never understood your boyfriend’s passive aggression when it came to most things. Any time anything bothered him, he’d vent and stomp his feet but in the end, he did nothing.

You had never dated a man like him before. Most of your past boyfriends were toxic to say the least but what they didn’t know was you were always trying to recreate a feeling someone from your past gave you. The feeling of being desperately needed to the point that they would break down a door to be with you. That passion that followed jealously or a fight that they most likely started but you definitely instigated. That feeling of being…alive. When you couldn’t find it in anyone else, you decided it was best to move on to something healthier.

Jacob was a good person who doted on you hand and foot. If you had a bad day, he would hold you and if you just needed someone to talk to he was more than accommodating. When you two fought, if you could call it that, you could scream and be mean and all he would do is sigh and say things like “I understand why you would feel that way. I’ll try and be better.” When you two were intimate, he was incredibly vanilla, only ever being sexual in bed and usually missionary. The few times you tried to explain what you wanted, he never seemed to understand.

“You want me to hurt you??”

“No…not exactly. I just want you to be…rougher. SHOW me how much you love me. MAKE me feel it.”

“You don’t think I show you enough how much I care about you?”

“No! I mean yes…I mean…Gah! Never mind.”

“What’s, uh, what’s the name of the company that bought yours again?”, you ask as you grab a beer bottle from the fridge and pop it open.

“Actually, babe, I was going to tell you. I did some research on them and it seems they originated in your hometown Hawkins. It’s a company called Harrington & Co.” The sound of glass shattering causes Jacob to jump up and immediately run to the kitchen where he finds you wide eyed with beer now swimming around your feet. “Oh my god. Are you okay?! Don’t move, you don’t have shoes. Let me clean this for you.”

“Harrington? Like Bill Harrington?”

“Yeah! I was going to ask if you knew them.”, he continues as he kneels down and begins to clean broken glass before wiping at the liquid. “Supposedly, from what I read, Bill Harrington retired and left it to his son Steven. Did you know him? He’s about your age.”

“Where the fuck have you been?!”

“What do you care, sire?! I’m not your fucking girlfriend remember?”

“That doesn’t stop you from coming to my house at fucking 2 am begging to ride my dick!”

Your hand flew across his face, his angry eyes glaring into yours when his head reels back. As you swing your arm to hit him again, his large palm catches your wrist and roughly pulls you to his chest.

“Let me go.”, you growl.

Leaning forward, his lips hover just above your own, feeling the slight wind of your heavy exhales that come from your nose.

“Make me.”

“No, I didn’t know him.”

#############

Sighing, you take shaky, anxious steps towards your boyfriend’s office building. When Jacob called saying he forgot his lunch, you debated on telling him you were busy with work stuff of your own before finally deciding to bring him his food.

He owns the building. It’s not like he’s going to actually be in it 24/7. Plus, if he was he would definitely be on a different floor.

“Hey sweetie. Oh! Thank you so much.”, he grins as he kisses your cheek. “Do you want to sit with me while I eat? We can share or I can buy you something.”

“Yeah, sure. I’m not hungry but I can sit with you.”

Holding your hand, he walked with you to the building cafeteria and like any good girlfriend, you sat next to him listening to him tell you about the long trials and tribulations of his day. You smiled, nodding where you were supposed to and frowning at things he seemed annoyed with. After thirty minutes of his hour lunch, you desperately needed a break.

“I’m going to go get a drink. I’ll be right back.”

Jacob smiled as you tilted down to kiss him before turning to head towards the area with drinks and food. As you stood there staring into the void of soda options, a strong cologne smell hit your nose that had you dizzy as your eyes fluttered closed. You’d know that smell anywhere, inhaling it so many times in the past.

Steve smiles as he watches you walk around his room in one of his polos that hangs down your body like a nightgown, just barely covering the love bites and bruises from his fingers that were starting to form on your thighs. Lifting an expensive looking glass bottle to your nose, you grin to yourself as you inhale and put it back down.

“I love the way that stuff smells.”

“Yeah. My dad says it’s a good smell for ‘classy men’.”, he chuckles.

“Hm. I guess he doesn’t know you very well.”

“Fuck you. I’m classy.”, Steve teases as his grin grows, yanking your arm so you fall on top of him as he folds his hands together behind your lower back. “Classy enough to land a pretty girl like you.”

“Y/N?”

As you turn your head, your eyes lock with his slightly stunned honey-colored irises as they scan you up and down. You begin to feel slightly self-conscious in your leggings and regular t-shirt compared to his slick black suit and well styled hair.

“Holy shit. What…What are you doing here? Do you work here?”, Steve asks.

“Uh, no. My, uh, my boyfriend actually does.” You turn and point to where he was nonchalantly eating, not even looking in your direction. “What are you doing here?”

“My dad followed through and gave me his company. We finally expanded out of Hawkins so I bought this place.”

“Yeah, I heard. Congratulations.” His eyes continue to rake over you making you more and more anxious the longer you stood there. “Well, I better get back before his hour ends.”

A shiver ran up your spine as his hand reached out to grab your arm.

“Wait. I’d like to talk to you some more and catch up. Do you want to meet me for dinner? I’m free tonight if you are.”

“Steve… I’m with someone. I can’t have dinner or anything else with an ex or whatever the fuck we were. I’m happy now.”

The smirk that painted his beautiful lips startled you as you stood up straighter.

“Oh your happy, huh? You should tell that to your face. That guy’s your boyfriend? Guy barely seems like he can get it up let alone satisfy a woman like you.”

“Define woman like me?”, you inquire sarcastically.

“A strong, gorgeous woman who liked to be fucked hard and put in her place.” Steve’s eyes remain on you as your own widen as you look around hoping now one was close enough to hear his not-so-subtle tone. “Tell me, honey, does he know you called me Daddy? I imagine not because if you were my girl and I found out you ever called someone else that you wouldn’t be able to sit down for weeks.”

“Thank God, I’m not your fucking girl.”, you snarled. “You were never man enough to make that commitment.”

As you both stared daggers into each other’s eyes a sudden hand on your shoulder brings you back.

“Baby, everything ok?”, your boyfriend asks way too calmly.

“Yeah, Jacob, I’m fine. I was just introducing myself to the owner of your company.”

Steve’s eyes immediately softened as you watched him play the role he always played extremely well; charming and popular.

“Steve Harrington. Nice to meet you, Jacob. Y/N and I go way back.”

“Oh. I thought you said you didn’t know him, sweetie.”

Your ex’s eyes narrow in your direction in faux shock making you sigh in annoyance.

“I didn’t know him. I knew OF him. Everyone knew who Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington was. Unfortunately, I wasn’t popular enough to penetrate his circle.”

“Hm, but I was to penetrate yours.”, he sassed with an arrogant confidence that just made you angry.

“Nice seeing you again, Harrington. Come on, baby.”

Steve watches you both walk away with a determined gaze that you can feel burning into your back as you headed towards your table.

“He seems nice. What was he like in school? Do you remember?”

“You didn’t call me like you said you would.”

“I was busy, Y/N.”, he answers nonchalantly, not even meeting your eyes as he continues putting things in his locker. “I figured when you didn’t hear from me, you’d just fuck the next guy.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, seriously?! Steve, for some fucking reason I like you. I only want to be with you but it kills me when you don’t follow through with your promises. You say you’ll call and you don’t. You say we’ll go on an official date finally and then last minute you change plans but still call me to come over late at night so you can fuck me. It’s push and pull with you. You act like you want me but then you don’t. I can’t… I can’t keep waiting for you.”

Slamming his locker closed, he finally turns to face you with a look that said he really didn’t care.

“Then don’t.”

“Yeah…I remember him. Steve Harrington was a complete asshole.”

##############

You managed to steer clear of Steve and anything having to do with him for a few months after your encounter with him until you couldn’t anymore.

“Baby, it’s an office party. Come on, we have to go.”

“Then go, Jacob, but I’d rather just stay here.”

“Y/N, you’re my girlfriend and this is important to me. Everyone I know will be there including clients. I want them to meet the woman I love.”

You can’t help but sigh at his statement from your place in the closet. You cared about your boyfriend, you genuinely did but love? That was big word with a big meaning.

“FUCK YOU!”, you shout as you run out into the hallway and yank your arm away from Steve as he tries to stop you while buckling up his pants. “I’m so stupid. DON’T fucking touch me.”

Growling, he pushed you into another empty room and closed the door behind him as he continued to put his clothes back on.

“Lower your fucking voice—”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want the entire party to know what an asshole you really are!” His hand tries to block your mouth but you angrily swat him away causing him to back up and hold his hands up defensively. “You TOLD ME that we could make this serious. That we would finally have a REAL relationship and then I find you here fucking Lori! Are you kidding me?”

“Y/N, I—”

“I told you I loved you, Steve. I’ve never said that to anyone!” Tears started to fall down your face as you hugged your arms around your body. “You’re never going to claim me, are you? You’re never going to call me your girlfriend. I was just another fuck buddy, wasn’t I?”

When he doesn’t respond, you shove his chest hard.

“ANSWER ME!”

“YES! YES, OKAY?! Excuse me for not wanting to fucking hurt you. You knew what this was, honey. Its…It’s not my fault…you caught feelings.”

That night you ran. You told your parents you loved them, packed a small bag, and left Hawkins to Indianapolis swearing to yourself that this would never happen again. Ever since that night, you had been so numb to most emotions but especially ones that included romance.

“Ok. Let me get ready and I’ll meet you downstairs.

***

If you ran into Steve Harrington again, this time you would be ready. Wearing your shortest black dress and highest black heels, you strutted into Jacob’s office party with a demeanor that had everyone turning their heads.

With a gigantic grin on his face, your boyfriend introduced you to people and showed you off the way you deserved.

I should be enjoying this. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I be normal!?

“Hey, baby, I’m going to run to the restroom.”

After giving him a sweet kiss, you powerwalk to the girl’s bathroom and lean over the sink as you stare at yourself in the mirror.

What’s wrong with me?

The door abruptly opens making you jump as you quickly pretend to be washing hands until a familiar aroma grabs your attention.

“Steve! What the fuck are you doing?! This is the girl’s bathroom!”

“Pfft like that ever stopped me before.” His eyes hungrily drank you in as you did the same. In high school he always dressed well but it was rare you saw him in suits. Now you imagined he wore them all the time and they accentuated his body in a way that had your mouth watering.

“I was watching you around the party with your boyfriend. You seem…sad.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Hm. Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?”

“Fuck off, Harrington. Alright? I left you and Hawkins for a reason. Just give me some peace.”

“Yeah, you did leave. You didn’t even say goodbye.”, he replied with an undertone of anger you couldn’t quite fathom.

“Oh, I’m sorry. When should I have done that? While you were fucking the school slut or after you told me you didn’t love me.”

“I didn’t say that. I never said I didn’t love you.”

“PLEASE! You said I should have known what our relationship was and it wasn’t your fault I caught feelings for you! What was I supposed to take from that?!”

“Do you think my dad would have let us be together?! A rich Harrington with a poor Y/L/N? This isn’t a fairy tale, Y/N!”

“Of course! Steve Harrington, always looking out for himself!”

“What did you want me to do?!”

“I WANTED YOU TO FIGHT FOR ME!”

The bathroom door swings open again and you quickly grab his arm, shoving him into an empty stall as a group of girls gather at the sinks. As you listen to them talk, your head hangs as your brain swims in memories of the past.

You never cared that he was a Harrington or that he had a ton of money attached to his name. Even though you two had a lot of bad moments, to you, the good always outweighed them. Steve always knew how to make you laugh and smile (when he showed up). He would come over on Friday nights with a movie and some food (because he didn’t want to risk you both being seen). At night when he would sneak through your window (at 1am), you would lay on his chest and talk about everything you both could think of (after he fucked you like a whore).

Fingers gently lifted your chin, tilting your head so your eyes could meet his. As a tear fell down your cheek, he tenderly wiped it away with his thumb before cupping your face with his hands. You closed your eyes as his lips kissed your forehead, slowly trailing them down to your nose, and hovering just above your own.

Closing the distance, you pulled his mouth to yours as your palms slid down his back, trying to bring him closer to your body.

You never forgot the taste of his kisses but you were grateful for the reminder.

After forcing open your legs with his knee, your dress hiked up a bit allowing him easier access to your panty covered core as his hand effortlessly pressed the silky materiel against your clit. Biting your lip to stifle the moan, you felt him smile as his mouth latched on to your neck. Your eyes rolled as his tongue licked your skin and his fingers moved your underwear out of the way so he could guide two of them into your entrance.

Steve’s elbow locked in place as your knees started to buckle, holding you against the tile wall as you clung to his shoulders. It took every ounce of energy you had to remain quiet as his digits curled inside of you. The girls outside of the stall continued to gossip, completely unaware that the owner of their company was about to make their coworker’s girlfriend come undone.

Leaning back to look at you, the tip of his nose lightly grazed yours as your mouth fell open in a silent moan. Nodding his head, his beautiful eyes were begging you for something he needed you to say. Something he hadn’t heard since you left and you hadn’t said to anyone but him.

“Please…Daddy.”, you mouthed and without hesitation he gripped the back of your neck, pulling your head to his shoulder as he pumped his fingers faster into your cunt.

The bathroom door banged shut as the women left and a loud moan you had been holding on to echoed through the room as you reached down to grip his wrist, trembling against him as you came. Yanking you back, he crashed his lips to yours as your tongues mingled together.

“Please…please…”, you whimper as you push at his hand.

“It’s been a while, huh? Since you’ve had something big inside of you.”, he teased, grinning when your breathily laughed. “God, I missed you so much. I thought about you every day for the past five years. I love you, honey.”

Something in your look gave him pause as he scanned your face.

“What?” Pushing him backwards, you threw open the door to the stall while adjusting your dress and quickly checking yourself in the mirror to make sure you looked at least how you did when you came in here. “Hey, talk to me. What’s—”

As he reached for your arm, you turned around and smacked his cheek.

“How dare you. You think after everything you put me through you can just walk back into my life and expect things to be how they were?! I’m in a healthy relationship for once. He doesn’t bail on dates or disappear when I need him. Jacob actually shows me off and tells people I’m his girlfriend that he loves! I don’t cry every night because of something he said or did! I don’t—”

“Have sex the way you want?”, Steve interrupted snidely. “You don’t actually have any fucking fun because he’s so fucking boring you just want to walk into traffic. He doesn’t challenge you or make feel needed. He doesn’t know how fucking numb you really are. Jesus…”, he snickers. “You’re definitely not the same girl that left me.”

“That’s right because you broke her fucking heart!”

“Does he know that you don’t love him?” You freeze by the door at his question. “Does he know that you, honey, are exactly like me whether you like it or not. There’s a reason you’ve thought of me every day to. That’s the same reason you’re afraid to leave him.”

“Our relationship…was toxic…”

Tilting his head to the side, he reached into his suit pocket, grabbing a pack of cigarettes, and lighting one between his teeth.

“That may be but that also doesn’t change the fact that you and I, baby girl, thrive on that shit.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you shake your head before addressing him and turning to leave.

“Stay away from me, Steven.”

#############

“Oof.”, Jacob groans as he slinks out of his suit jacket and throws himself down on the sofa. “It was a long day. We have a big account that landed in our lap and even your friend has been staying late to help.”

“He’s not my friend.”, you mumble as you continue focusing on the sink in front of you.

You hadn’t been able to shake Steve from your brain since the party. Hell, you hadn’t been able to shake him for the last 5 years. You thought about him constantly but knew he was bad for you. Part of what got you through the heartache was telling yourself that he wasn’t missing you; that he didn’t care at all where you were or if you were even happy.

But here he was telling you the opposite. Was he lying or did he genuinely care? From the few interactions you had with him he still seemed exactly the same. God, why couldn’t you get the warm fuzzy feelings he gave you with someone healthy?! Why did you have to fall in love with him? Why did he rile you up and get you going but by doing the worst things.

“Honey? Are you alright? You seem kind of—”

“I’m fine, Jacob. I’m just exhausted.”

His hand gently caressed your back as his chin rested on your shoulder. “I understand. Is there anything I can do?”

Angrily, you slammed the plate in your hand back into sink, lightly pushing him aside as you entered the living room and began to pace.

“Baby, what’s going on?”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“STOP BEING SO FUCKING NICE TO ME!”, you shout as frustrated tears began to fall. “Why do you alwayshave to be so nice?”

“How else should I be, Y/N?”

“I don’t know! Fucking…tell me to stop being a bitch or raise your voice a little bit. Throw me against a wall and fuck me into submission.”

“Y/N, I still don’t get it. You’re telling me you want me to hurt you?”

“NO! I just want you to stop being so fucking passive! Show a bit more passion! How can you live life like this!? If you’re angry just be fucking angry and then do something about it!”

Placing his hands on his hips, his eyes glance over you as if confused on how to proceed.

“You know what? Um, fuck it. I’m sorry, honey. I just…I had a weird day and I’m taking it out on you.” Wiping your eyes, you hastily grab your jacket from the nearby closet, and sling it over your shoulders. “I’m just going to go for a drive.”

“Y/N, wait! It’s pouring!”

Shutting the door, you cut him off as you stand in the yard and let the rainwater hit your face. It had been so long since you felt amped up like this. Backing out of your driveway, you head to the one person you know will understand.

***

“Yeah? What? I’m busy.”

“Uh Mr. Harrington, there’s a young lady here that says she knows you and was wondering if she could come up to talk to you.”

“I see. Carl? Does the young lady have a name or are we just letting any random women into the building?”,Steve asked the security guard sarcastically through intercom that connected to the top two floors.

“Um, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Ok, send her up.”, he sighs almost as if he’s annoyed by your presence.

You bounce anxiously in the elevator as you take the ride up to the top floor and as soon as the doors ding open, you power walk towards the lighted up office at the end of hall.

“Y/N.”, Steve exhales without looking in your direction. “I’m extremely busy so if this isn’t important then make it quick.” When his eyes finally land on your soaked, agitated frame, his whole demeanor shifted as he came around his desk and cupped your face in his hands. “Jesus Christ, honey. What the fuck is going on? Are you alright?”

Tilting up on your toes, you hungerly press your lips against his.

“Baby…Baby…hang on…Stop!”, he shouts sternly as he pulls you back. “Tell me what happened right now.”

“You said you missed me and that you loved me.”, you pant as you try to tug out of his grip. “I didn’t. I didn’t miss you at all. The only thing I ever loved about you was your dick, Harrington.”

His eyes narrowed as his head tilted trying to get a read on you.

“Why are you lying, little girl? You’re not supposed to lie to me remember?”

“Said the liar. I bet you didn’t miss me either with all that pussy you were getting back at Hawkins.”

“I can get pussy and still miss yours. The only difference is I actually enjoyed fucking those gorgeous women. When’s the last time you were fucked properly?”

“Jacob can get the job done. Trust me.”, you sass.

“Then tell me, baby, why are you here with me?”

“Because I’m an idiot! Maybe, I should go home.”

As you turned to leave, he roughly grabbed your arm, spun you around, and kissed you again. It was a rough kiss loaded with need as you both clung to each other, you a bit more desperately than him.

“Where’s my girl? I want my Y/N.”, he snarled angrily as he pulled your hair back, tilting your face up to meet his.

“I told you. She’s gone.”

“I don’t believe you.” Pushing you down onto your knees, he continues to hold you firmly as he unbuckled and unbuttoned his pants with one hand. “I think she’s still there. She’s just hidden behind this false facade of someone ‘normal’.” As his slacks fall to his ankles, his cock springs free, and you salivate at the sight as he pumps it slowly in front of your face. “But we aren’t normal, are we, baby?”

As you try to lean forward to take him into your mouth, Steve pulls on your hair harder forcing you back while leaning down till his face was just inches above your own.

“Ah, see? There she is. Hidden right under there.” His tone is full of snark but his beautiful features remain stoic as he continues to glare down at you. “Come on, honey. Give me what you got.”

Rearing back, a glob of spit leaves your mouth and lands just above his nose.

“Fuck you, Steve Harrington. I hate you.”

Wiping his hand over his face, he collects your saliva and strokes it along his cock.

“Jesus, baby, your anger and attitude just really fucking get me off.” Lifting you off your knees, he pushes you onto his desk, tearing off your jacket and shirt before slamming your back against the wood as your head hangs over the other side.

You try to get up but he’s faster, holding his palm against your chest as he comes around his desk.

“You remember our word right, Y/N? I wouldn’t be surprised if you forgot it. I imagine you haven’t needed it with the extremely mundane almost tedious style sex you’ve been having over the years.”, he chuckles, laughing at his own snark as you pout angrily beneath him. “DO you remember?”

“Yes I fucking remember!”

The palm on your chest slides easily up your skin and takes hold of your throat.

“Yes, you remember what?”

“I remember our safe word.”

Rolling his eyes, he lets you go just long enough to slap your cheek hard before holding you down again.

“Yes, WHAT?!”

“YES, DADDY, I REMEMBER OUR FUCKING WORD!”

Steve’s hand moves behind your head, holding you up slightly as his leaking tip touches your lips, exhaling heavily when your tongue darts out to lick his slit and you moan at the taste of him. Opening your mouth wider, you allow him to push his cock in till he promptly hits the back of your throat making you gag.

“That’s it, baby, take it like a good girl.”

Thrusting his hips, you flatten your tongue allowing him to use you as he pleases. Abruptly, the phone blares on his desk startling you but annoying him as he angrily grunts at the device.

“God fucking damn it. Can’t have one fucking moment. Don’t move.”, he growls as he leans over to pick up the receiver. “Yeah, this is Harrington.” His long fingers grip your hair tighter as his cock subtly slides between your lips unable to remain still as your wet, slobber filled mouth warms him.

“Seriously? This is why you called at 10pm? We have it covered. I have faith in the employees here.”

Even though his voice remained relatively calm despite what was happening, you knew him well enough to know he was using all his energy to do so. Deciding to rile him further, your hand reached up above you and gently massaged his balls the way you knew drove him crazy back in school.

“Look, stop panicking. I-I-I…” You smiled in triumph as Steve stuttered over his words. “Fuck. No not you. Clark, just…just tell my dad to calm the fuck down. I haven’t run his company into the ground yet and I don’t…don’t plan on doing it any time soon.”

Slamming the phone back on the hook, he grips the side of your head with both hands as he thrusts his hips at a faster pace.

“Did you think that was funny, little girl?! Did you think it was funny watching me squirm?” Holding you still, he stops moving when he feels your nose against his sack, grunting as your throat constricts around him. “That’s it, you fucking brat. Choke on it.”

Pulling himself all the way out, he allows you to collect air and watches with pride as the tears streak down your face. Once he feels like you’ve had enough of a break, he shoves his cock back down your throat, holding you still as you gag and drool around him.

A frustrated sigh leaves his lips as he tugs you off him and walks around to the other side of the desk while shuffling off his pants as he unbuttons his shirt.

“Come here, baby.”

As you fully sit up, you raise your hips so he can aggressively yank down your pants with your panties. Bringing you towards the edge of his desk, he falls to his knees, and puts your cunt on display for himself as he uses his fingers to hold open your puffy lips.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I missed this pussy so much. You always smelled so fucking good.” You moan as Steve’s nose grazes your clit and his tongue licks between your folds. “Shit. And you tasted so fucking delicious to.”

His head falls between your legs and your fingers tangle in hair as he devours you like you were his last meal. The obscene sounds of slurps and his tongue flicking in and out of your core has you clenching tightly around him as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Please, don’t stop, Steve. Oh my god.”, you whine.

As your hips start to buck against him, his strong hands hold you down forcing you to stay still. You continue petting his head, occasionally tugging on his fluffy, soft strands making his groan reverberate through you.

The phone beside you blares loudly again and he grunts in agitation as he gets to his feet, grabbing the cord to yank it from the wall.

Taking his place between your legs, you both moan as he runs his mushroom tip along you slit and rests his forehead on yours.

“Beg me, Y/N. Tell me how bad you want my cock that you love oh so much and not me.”

“Please, Steve, I need—”

His palm around your throat cuts you off.

“No, little girl. Remember? You don’t care about me anymore. You don’t give a fuck about Steve Harrington. All you want is my dick right? Well, honey, this dick belongs to Daddy so beg him.”, he growled causing your breath to hitch.

“Please, Daddy. I’m sorry. I need you to fuck me. I need to feel you fill me up.”

“Do you think you deserve it?”

“No.”, you whisper, your answer intriguing him as his head shifts to the side. “But I need it.”

Your hands run up his chest till you reach his neck, clinging to him as he slowly guides himself inside of you. You mouth dropped open in the shape of an O as he gradually pumps his hips, pushing himself deeper into your heat.

“God damnit, Y/N, how long has it been? Your pussy isn’t used to a big cock anymore is she? You’re so fucking tight.”

“Still s-so cocky.”

Steve chuckles lightly, his head hanging as he bottoms out.

“Still a fucking brat.”

Gripping both your thighs, he pulls back before thrusting his length hard inside of you, practically punching the air from your lungs. Falling flat onto his desk, he finds a steady pace that leaves the two of you panting and moaning.

Leaning his upper body over yours, his lips kiss yours sloppily as your tongues dance together.

“Fuck, baby girl, no one has ever taken my cock as well as you.” His face falls into the nook between your neck and shoulder as he bites at the flesh. “This pussy was made for me, Y/N.”

“Harder, Daddy.”

Taking hold of you, he lifts you off his desk and places you on the floor, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder as he pounds into you.

“Like that, honey? Yeah. Daddy knows. Daddy can take care of you.” With one hand clinging to your leg for leverage, he utilizes his other to bring his thumb to your clit making you whimper as his cock abuses your g-spot. “Cum, pretty girl. Cum all over my dick.”

Perching yourself up on your elbows, your eyes lock with his giving him more determination to push you over that ledge. When you do finally fall, he grunts at the feeling, fucking you through it as his thumb moves faster against you.

“Atta girl. Fuck me. Your pussy won’t stop pulling me in. You really needed Daddy, huh, baby?”

Shakily your hand grabbed his wrist, silently begging him to stop and to your surprise he did, bringing his palm up to caress your cheek. Focusing on his own pleasure, he slammed into you so hard that you knew you would be sore tomorrow.

Falling flat against your body, he rolled his hips a few more times before warming your insides with his release.

The two of you laid together quietly for a few moments until he finally rolled on to his back. Sneaking a glance your way, Steve noticed you were trembling and sat up to grab his jacket off the floor where he had tossed it to place it over your body like a blanket.

“Thank you.”, you murmur as you bring it up closer to your neck.

“For the jacket or the sex?” As you turn your head to look at him, he does the same. “That’s what you came here for right? Because I know it wasn’t for me. I guaran-God damn-tee if your boyfriend or any other guy fucked you the way I did, you’d be with them right now.”

“You’re right.” Steve huffed as he fully sat up and leaned against the sofa he had in his office. “What do you want me say, Harrington? I tried for two years to get you to claim me and every time you pushed me away.”

“And every time you still came back.”

“So that gave you license to treat me like garbage?!”

“No! I’m just… I’m just saying there’s a reason for that.”

“Yeah and not a good one. Steve…what we have…had… yeah the sex is amazing but everything else is unhealthy. The missed dates, angry calls, the fighting, the fucking cheating… we are toxic.”

He sighs heavily before giving you his full attention.

“Yeah, well, if we’re toxic then I’d rather go down with you than anyone else.” Shaking your head, you get to your feet as you quickly grab your clothes and start to put them on. “I know you feel the same, Y/N, or else you wouldn’t be here. You like all that bullshit because at least you’re feeling something other than fucking boredom. Trust me, I tried to. I tried doing the healthy ‘normal’ thing. I wanted to fucking gouge my eyes out by the end of the day. It took me awhile to realize that all the women I was with including her… I just kept wishing they were you.”

“This was a mistake. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, no, no, honey. Please, trust me. I feel like we can make this work.”

“Well, I don’t.”

Backing away from you, he folded his arms as he leaned against his desk. You knew this look very well, always referring to it as “the shutdown”. His wall was going up which means he was going to make this situation as complicated as possible.

The butterflies in your tummy fluttered in anticipation at the notion.

Why am I like this? Why can’t I be normal?

“Ok, Y/N. We can play this game but just remember, little girl, I’m way better at it than you.”

############

@daysinthephoenix @sophiejayne-illustrations713

#steve harrington #joe keery #stranger things #steve harrington smut #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington angst #joe keery smut #joe keery fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #toxic!steve harrington #mean steve #fan fiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n smut #spotify #Spotify

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jakes3resin · 3 months

Text

Ran My Fingers Through Your Hair

Curls Fic is finally finished, @getinthefuckingjaeger here you go, the finished thing. I'm going to go lay down and wail now.

John's curls are a mess.

Well, technically everyone's hair is a mess right now. Buck can't even imagine what his own hair looks like at the moment, but Buck can only focus on John, has only been focused on John since the man walked in looking like he'd been kicked to hell and back nearly a week ago.

It's just... John's curls are tangled. They're dirty, and Buck isn't completely sure they actually managed to wash out all of the blood. He'd been too focused on keeping John alive back then. He still is, but now with John's fever finally breaking, Buck can focus on other important things.

Like John's curls.

They're the prettiest shade of chestnut that Buck's ever seen. Never seen anything half as pretty. John says his hair's just brown, maybe a coffee brown if he's feeling poetic, but he doesn't know what Buck's talking about when he says they shine in the sun. There are pretty hazel and auburn undertones that you can see when Bucky stands just right in the sun if you look, and Buck always looks.

That pretty chestnut is hidden now. No hazel or auburn in sight. Buried even. Under dirt, blood, and grease like Buck's never seen. John's hair is a mess.

And don't get him started on John's curls. Buck can barely bring himself to see them as they are now. They're usually movie star pretty without John even trying. Buck had heard more than one girl lamenting how such pretty curls ended up with John, who doesn't grow them out or spend too much time on'em. He doesn't need to, Buck muses as he reaches out for one such curl. They just spring to life, beautiful and perfect. John grumbles more often than not that they're annoying under his crusher cap, how they're always falling in his eyes if he doesn't gel them back. So why can't he cut them off, Buck always gets asked, big blue eyes staring up at him with light and laughter.

Because I love them, Buck always answers. And that's that. John always let's Buck have his way and keeps his beautiful curls even when he moans and groans about them. He doesn't mind them too much really, just complains so that Buck turns to stare at him. He loves it. He let's Buck pet them and preens when Buck helps style them.

Buck's curls are limp now, weighed down and unwashed.

It's silly to be so hung up about the state of John's curls, this Buck knows. But, there's something in him that needs to see those curls healthy and full of life. A clawing, desperate thing that refuses to budge out of his chest whenever he looks down and see dark, dark blood and dirt burying those precious curls.

Where did it all come from? Buck brushes more dirt off. Why won't it just go away? Why is it there? What happened to John to cover him like this?

"Buck," Brady's voice cuts through Buck's thoughts, and he stares up at the other. He clears his head, tries to show Brady that everything's fine, that Bucky's on the mend.

Brady looks worried. Buck understands. Even though John's fever had finally broken late last night, they're not out of the woods yet. There's still the concussion to worry about, the barely healing wounds on his face and body, not to mention the general peril of living here in this camp that could end up killing John. Worrying about all of that is exhausting, and Buck hopes the boys can at least take some hope and solace that John's doing a bit better today. Some hope would be good for them.

"I brought dinner." Brady lifts his hands, showing off the bowls full of what passes for food round here. Buck presses his lips together, trying to calculate just what he'd have to bargain to get John something healthier. "How about I help him eat? Give you some rest."

Rest? Buck turns back to stare at John. He's still sleeping thankfully, but can Buck afford to rest right now? There's so much to do still. He can't leave John.

"I'm fine Brady."

Buck doesn't turn to look at the other man, but he hears him sigh and turn away. Plates clang together, and Buck just lets that noise fade away to check on John again.

He's still sleeping. Doc says it's good that he's sleeping, that it means his fever and concussion are healing. Buck hasn't seen those pretty blue eyes in so long, but he tells himself that it's okay. That rare fevered glimpses will be enough if it means John's here, that he's healing like he should be.

Buck doesn't think about those first few awful days. John collapsing into his arms. Brushing dirt off only to find dried blood and deep wounds. His temperature rising and rising without end. Of John's screams as the fever dragged up memories Buck couldn't understand. How John had stared through him, treating him like a ghost.

Perhaps Buck is a ghost. Perhaps he...

"Major, please."

Buck jumps when he feels a hand come down onto his shoulder. He whirls around, placing himself between John and whoever dared get this close.

"Brady," Buck breathed out once he recognized the other man. Brady stares at him, face pale.

"Please, I'll wake him up and help him eat. You can sit right there and eat too."

"I'm fine," Buck brushes the other off. Brady clenches his jaw and steps closer. Buck reaches down to bury a delicate hand in John's curls. Despite the grime, they ground him, keep him in the moment.

"Sir," Brady's eyes dart from John to Buck and back. "I'd like to help. He wouldn't want you working yourself to the bone like this. He needs you Buck, and if you collapse because you wouldn't rest, I'm not sure the boys and I could take care of both of you."

Buck presses his lips into a fine line. His fingernails scratch at John's scalp. John stirs.

Brady turns back towards the table. Buck looks down at John. His eyelashes flutter, but sleep still seems to have him in its grasp.

"We could wash his hair after we eat."

Buck whips back up to look at Brady. Brady meets his gaze evenly. His fingers curl up, strands of hair caught in their grasp. John shifts under him. He breathes out, forcing himself to calm down.

"It's not right leaving his hair like that. Doc said we could try washing it once his fever broke, right? I'm sure Bucky would love to wake up to clean hair."

Buck stares at him. He slowly extracts his hand from John's curls. John murmurs something just as Buck takes one stumbling step away, but Brady rushes in before Buck can move back. He smiles at Buck, but it's not as calming as it should be

"I'll be over here then." The words taste bitter.

Buck gestures to the table. Brady seems to deflate ever so slightly, but Buck can understand that. Watching over John can't be good for the men. John's usually so full of energy, and watching him sleep and sleep and sleep has to be taking it out on the others. Buck should say something.

"Boys," Buck greets as he drags out a chair next to Benny who greets him with a quick nod. Benny gives him room, but his presence is grounding as Buck sits. The others stare back over their plates. "Mind if I join you?"

"Course not Buck," Murph slurps up his broth.

"Take a seat."

"Thanks."

Buck barely tastes the food, which on any other day he'd be glad for. The Ritz this was not, but the longer he sits, the more he wishes to go. He can hear John’s voice murmuring something, but it quickly stops. The boys all talk, discussing what's happened that day, guard rotations, and any news they've heard from the new arrivals. Important things, but Buck can’t focus on them. Their voices fade into a dull drone falling into his ears. Buck takes it in and tries not to turn around.

He stares down at his hands and tries not to flinch when he sees how dirty they are. Dirt, John had said something about shovels. Why shovels?

"Buck?" Benny nudges him.

"Hmm?" Buck scrapes his spoon against his bowl for lack of anything else to do.

"Crank says there's an extra jug of boiled water if you'd want to wash Bucky's hair."

A jolt runs through him. Buck looks up. Crank stares back, a tentative smile on his face.

"That's mighty kind of you," Buck drawls. "Thanks."

"I'll go grab it." Crank rushes towards the window.

"How's ole Sleeping Beauty over there anyway Brady?" Benny calls out. Buck clutches at his spoon.

"Sends him compliments to the chef. What do you think he's doing, Benny?" Brady calls back, a sarcastic bite to his voice that sends the others laughing.

"Just asking Johnny," Benny's leg presses against Buck's, and he tries to smile as everyone seems to take this as a cue to settle down.

Crank comes back with the water, sets it down right in front of Buck with a satisfying thud.

“Should be enough in there to get him up to grooming standards, right?” Crank laughs as he says it.

Buck’s stomach rolls. His meager dinner barely settled before it turns over. He says something, he’s really not sure, but the boys all laugh and turn back to the last of their food. Buck turns his head and catches Brady tucking a curl behind John’s ear. Its the one that likes to hang right in John's eyes. It flopped back nearly a second later, stubbornly refusing stay.

Brady looks over and sees him watching. He smiles, but Buck can see how tired the other man is, dark shadows under his eyes. None of this was easy for them. John was a pillar for every man here, had been since the war began, and watching him struggle like this couldn’t have been easy.

Buck excuses himself from the table, unable to bear it any longer. His exit is quietly accepted as the boys start to gather up plates. Crank takes his and exchanges it for the jug.

Normally, Buck would protest, but the water plays some kind of siren song on him. The idea of cleaning John’s hair is too tempting. He’ll have to get Crank back for it another day.

“How’s he doing?” Buck sets the jug down next to John’s bunk. Brady’s hands quickly gather up their dishes. John doesn’t stir.

“Ate most of the broth, hates turnips though,” Brady gnaws at his lip. “Wasn’t fully lucid, but he recognized me which is something right?”

“Sure, it is,” Buck pats him on the shoulder. “Doc said that it’s a good sign if he comes around like that remember?”

“Right Buck,” Brady holds up the plates. “I’ll take these, and then we can wash his hair. Wait for me?”

“Sure,” Buck says. The lie falls off his tongue without any remorse.

John’s hair… It doesn’t feel right letting someone else wash his hair. Not when he’s like this and doesn’t know who it is. Brady disappears from view, and Buck grabs a rag from his own bed. Its not much, but it’ll do for now. He dips it down into the water, he really was going to have to thank Crank. Buck hadn’t even thought to save some water.

Buck turns and looks at John. His curls lay limp against his pillow, gnarled and greasy. There’s dirt and blood streaked across the pillow. Buck desperately misses John’s shampoo. Some dame had recommended it to him once, and it worked wonders on his curls. Left them soft and springy when John didn’t style them.

Buck runs the rag gently across his head, careful not to tug on any of the curls. It comes away spotted with dirt, and it kills him that he has no idea where it came from. None of them were this bad when they came to camp. Just John. Just John with his dirt and blood.

“You said you’d wait Buck,” Brady sighs from behind him, and Buck can’t find it within himself to feel guilty. “Fine, I brought a bowl. We should be able to soak most of the blood out.”

Brady helps him maneuver the bowl under John’s head. Buck tosses the pillow aside, a vindictive pleasure running through him at sending the dirty thing flying. John flinches when they pour the water over his hair, but Buck is quick to calm him.

“Stop,” John grunts, restless. Brady freezes next to him, but Buck just pets at his curls. More blood blooms bright red in the water.

“Just me, Bucky, just me.” Buck whispers even as John clutches at his blanket. He mumbles his name, and Buck smiles. “Don’t worry, just washing out your curls for ya.”

Brady stays silent but tense next to him until John settles. Buck reaches over for one of the aid kits they’d kept at the foot of John’s bed since his arrival. There’s not much left having been picked clean while John’s fever raged, but there’s some soap that had been left alone thankfully. Buck had bartered for it before John’s arrival, and hopefully it’d do the trick here.

“Its not shampoo, but we’ll make do right John?” Buck runs a hand over John’s curls. Brady jolts next to him, and Buck spares him a glance. Right, he’d forgotten that his John wasn’t the only one here. “Run the suds back and forth over the curls. Don’t tug on’em, alright?”

John’s curls still feel stiff in his hands as he washes them. The blood had clumped and matted the hair on the back of his hair together, but letting it sit in the water seemed to be the trick. The water turns a deep murky brown, but a weight lifts off Buck’s shoulders the more he washes away.

“Hand me that comb.” Buck points, and Brady jumps to follow.

Brushing through the wet curls calms him. He’s done it hundreds of times. John pliant under his hands as he works. All that’s missing is John’s running commentary. Buck carefully works around the cuts on John’s head. They’d spot cleaned them to the best of their ability days ago, and Buck wasn’t going to risk reopening the wounds now. Doc could take a look in the morning if John felt up to it.

Wounds like these don’t just appear on a person’s head. One cut, Buck could chalk up to maybe the bail out hadn’t gone smoothly, but there were three cuts on John’s head all of them crisscrossing. Something has to happen to cause these. Someone has to be responsible for this. John had said something about German towns, calling out for guards to stop something. The pieces weren’t connecting.

There’s no towel to dry out John’s hair, but Buck grabs his spare shirt. He’ll be fine. Brady disappears with the bowl and jug.

“Buck?” John’s voice breaks through his concentration. His voice sounds lucid this time, and Buck scratches his nails through the now clean curls. John hisses at the sensation. “That you?”

“Got it in one.” Buck can’t hide the relief in his voice. “How you feeling?”

“Like shit.” John grunts. Buck can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him at that. God he’d missed that voice. It hadn’t been the same during those fevered days. John hadn’t… John hadn’t been there, not really.

Buck puts away his now sodden shirt and comes round to face John. Clear blue eyes greet him, and he can’t help the smile that fights to appear.

“Tell me I look better than you do?” John’s eyes trail over Buck’s face, and Buck drinks him in.

“Never,” Buck grins. John laughs and then groans as pain no doubt spikes through his head. Buck rushes forward cursing himself. He grabs his pillow off his own bed and gently lifts John’s head to place it underneath. “How’s that feel?”

“I’d say better, but this is worse than any hangover I’ve ever had.” John murmurs, eyes pinched tight. “How long have I been asleep?”

“In and out for about a week,” Buck shifts putting himself between the light and John’s eyes. The soft sigh of relief from John tells him everything he needs to know. “What do you remember?”

“Germans,” John shuts his eyes trying to concentrate. Buck cups his cheek, and John practically melts into the touch. His cheeks feel too warm against Buck’s cold hands, but its not high enough to be a fever. “Brits actually hit something.”

“What?” Buck’s heart leaps into his throat. Had John been in a bombing? The question bursts out of him before he can stop it. A dish clatters behind them, the sound as loud as a bomb in Buck's ears. A bombing could make sense. That would explain the head wounds.

“No,” John murmurs, eyes shut as if the memories are hurting him. “Sorry, that wasn’t it. After. Was there after. Germans were there. So much pain.”

“John,” Buck tried to soothe him. “Its okay. You’re not there anymore. You’re okay.”

“Terroflieger, that’s what they called us.” The German falls clumsily off John’s tongue. His breathing speeds up. His hands twist in his blanket. “The guards didn’t stop them. Shot the others”

“Stop John,” Buck begs. He doesn’t want to know this. “Just breathe, okay? Breathe for me.”

“They asked about you,” John stares up at Buck. His eyes are wild, and Buck’s not sure John’s even actually seeing him. He’s a ghost again for John. “Asshole seemed smug about it. Shooting down all the good pilots.”

Buck didn’t know what to say. He pulls John into his arms, allowing the other to bury his face into his shoulder. He murmurs quiet platitudes as John shakes. He wishes he could stop those memories from hurting John. Wishes he could wash them away like dirt and blood and dirty curls.

But all he can do is bury his hand into wet curls and curl himself around the one person he has to protect. His fingers tug and pull at the curls, destroying all of Buck’s hard work as John shakes in his arms still talking. Still listing horrors that Buck can't piece together. Voices fade in and out behind them.

“Its okay,” Buck murmurs, pressing a kiss into John’s curls. They’re a mess again.

“We’ll be okay.”

#mota #masters of the air #buck x bucky #clegan #bucky egan #john egan #buck cleven #gale cleven #john bucky egan #gale buck cleven #this actually took everything out of me #am i super happy with the final product? no #but i need this away from me before it causes problems in my real life

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jungk0oksthighs · 2 years

Text

Pi Gasu | Damned If We Do, Dead If We Don't

Pairing - jungkook x reader

Genre - smut, angst, E2L, vampire!jungkook

Word Count - 6.5k

Donating blood for Jungkook is physically draining you, in more ways than one. Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, needles and masturbation, jk & oc argue, light violence

SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s Tuesday, you’re mindlessly tapping a blunt pencil against the desk between your fingers, feeling uninspired and drained. In more ways than one. Donating blood for Jungkook has changed from a fortnightly occurrence to a minimum of twice a week. Truthfully you don’t know how much longer you can keep this lifestyle up, while your bank account has never looked healthier your body feels the complete opposite.

You’re sick. Feeling constantly light-headed and drowsy, similar to last year when you had a nasty chest infection, even getting out of bed is a daily struggle. But with every donation comes a tonne of money, money you’ve been sending straight to your mother to cover the cost of Eddie’s medical bills. Jungkook doesn’t know truly how desperate you are for the money, he’s never asked and it would be fair to assume he doesn’t care – as long as you’re donating.

Your relationship with the vampire in question is equally as unstable as your blood pressure. He invites you over, you get yourself off in front of him while he's chained to the bed he has to replace every time you go there – giving that he breaks at least two of the bed posts each time you go, thrashing around like a handsome shark attempting to be freed. Once you’re finished you head up to his kitchen, donate and leave. The two of you don’t speak between your sinful, morally grey rendezvous, only amplifying your confusion toward the situation. Amplifying your confusion toward him.

College work can wait, you decide you need a nap before you’re capable of conjuring any coherent thoughts. It’s been a while since you felt this ill, your entire body is heavy and weak, simultaneously burning hot and shivering. Maybe it’s the flu? You’re Googling your symptoms when the weight of sleep drags you into unconsciousness, succumbing to slumber quicker than you thought humanly possible.

It's the knocking sound on your front door that wakes you a few hours later, actually, when your eyes flutter open with a lot of effort you register it’s dark outside. You’ve been out cold for at least six hours. Tired footsteps drag on the floorboards as you make your way to the door, using the peephole to ensure you’re not going to be drained of blood as soon as you unlock it. Thank god, it’s just Yoongi.

He's standing on the other side of the door with arms folded over his chest, brows raised and an unimpressed-looking expression. You sigh, unhooking the chain before you greet your next door neighbour. You’re not exactly dressed for company right now, having fallen asleep in nothing beyond an old, oversized Twilight t-shirt you wear to mostly dye your hair. Oh the irony.

“Hey…” You croak, throat feeling full of glass shards and head banging louder than thunder itself when you open the door.

Yoongi’s features shift to concern instantly, he uncrosses his arms and softens his profile into something almost caring when he speaks. “Are you okay…? You look… Are you sick?”

“Mhm, think it’s the flu.” You admit with a cough to backup your claim, covering your mouth, “Don’t get too close to me, what’s up?”

“I-, I uh-, I came for the lasagne dish back…” Yoongi runs a slender finger through his long brunette hair, pushing it away from his gentle features. “Do you have any medicine? You look really sick…”

At this you offer him a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine. Hang on I’ll go get the dish for you, probably best you don’t come inside…” You trail off to nothing while searching your cupboard for the dish in question, but much to your surprise Yoongi follows you inside, closing the door behind him all while he ignores your pleas. “No seriously!” You turn to face him with wide eyes, well, as wide as your eyes can physically get with the weight of the flu resting on your lids, “I don’t want you to get sick, go wait outside!”

“Y/N it’s just the flu, I’ll be okay.” Yoongi chuckles, veiny hands finding your kettle on the countertop before flicking it to boil, “Go sit down, I’ll make you some tea.”

“Yoongi—”

“Sit. Down.” He emphasises his words with a low, assertive tone, pointing to the sofa with raised brows. “Are you always this stubborn?” A small smile briefly tugs the corners of his pink lips, until the kettle flicks back off signalling the water’s boiled and he heads over to your small, makeshift hot drinks station.

You smile back, “Are you?”

Yoongi doesn’t look at you, too focussed on searching for tea, “I’m not gonna ask you again, sit down. You look terrible.” He murmurs, picking out your favourite mug straight away.

“You didn’t ask me to begin with.” You mumble in defeat, finally doing as he says and sitting on the sofa in front of the television. A large, cotton-candy pink blanket is haphazardly thrown onto your frame and the weight of it almost knocks you clean out. When you glare at your unexpected guest he’s grinning ear-to-ear, peeling his gaze away from you.

“Shit, is this rose thorn?” Yoongi gestures to your mom’s homemade tea bags, immediately rinsing his hands below the cold tap after touching it. Though he doesn’t look to be in any discomfort.

“I don’t know what she puts in there… My mom makes her own tea, she sent me some not long ago.” You hum, mindlessly flicking through the Netflix selection, internal organs knotting with shame when you scroll through the ‘Recommended For You’ section:

The Vampire Diaries, The Twilight Collection, The Lost Boys, and one that catches you off-guard so much so that laughter bubbles in your throat, Vampires Suck.

Correct Netflix, vampires do suck. It's refreshing to be at home in your modest apartment with blush pink and mustard furnishings for a change. It's bright, light and homely. The complete opposite to Euphoria's dark seductive overall aesthetic. But even Euphoria is tame in comparison to the hidden sex dungeon in Jungkook's otherwise seemingly normal home. You frown, wondering if the vampire has even noticed you haven't reached out in a couple days. Probably not.

“Sounds like mom’s very paranoid.” Yoongi mutters, choosing to give you a green tea instead. As well as a bottle of water. He places both onto the white coffee table in front of you and before you have time to question him he speaks again, “When did you last eat?”

You sigh, “Seriously Yoongi I’m fine, thank you but—”

“Y/N.” He cuts you off, “Do you have any idea what I do for a living?”

“No…” You admit sheepishly, unable to hold his strong, judgemental eye-contact that's unwavering despite choppy brunette locks tickling his almond-shaped eyes. “I don’t know anything about you, actually.”

Yoongi nods in response, slowly, “Exactly. Trust me, you’re sick. I bet you’re burning up right now-“ You don’t have a second to think before the back of his large hand is on your clammy forehead, he’s frowning when he pulls away, “Shit, you’re really sick. I’ll pick up some medicine for you tomorrow.”

“What do you do for a living?” Curiosity takes over, heart racing in your chest when Yoongi’s adjusting the blanket over your body, tucking every part of you beneath it apart from your bare ankles and feet.

“Keep your feet out, it’ll help regulate your temperature.” He’s completely focussed on making sure you’re comfortable, it’s when his hands graze the swell of your ass over the blanket that you clear your throat uncomfortably and he keeps talking, you assume it's his way of overcoming the sudden awkwardness, “I’m a medical journalist, used to be a paramedic before that.”

“Oh really? I’m a nursing student.” You smile, a genuine smile despite the ache in your body and pounding in your brain… It’s nice to have something in common. “How come you switched from being a paramedic to a medical journalist if you don’t mind me asking?”

At this Yoongi shrugs, eyes his expression almost bored-looking, “I helped a lot of people but it was never satisfying enough for me… Now I expose the people who don’t help others. Medical malpractice is something I’m passionate about, was an easy decision to make.”

“Hmmm…” You nod along with his words, seemingly impressed that he followed his passions and is still helping people by exposing the wrong-doings of others, “That’s really interesting.”

“So,” Yoongi stands in front of the television holding his hips, winning him your complete focus. He’s wearing acid-wash blue jeans, a white t shirt and a grey oversized cardigan today and once again, you can’t help but notice how he doesn’t seem out of place standing in your apartment. “Do you have any soup?”

The next four days are filled with Yoongi coming over and taking care of you, bringing you comfort food and medicine or even just his company. You learn that he’s a very sweet guy, though his external walls are tough and hard to penetrate – on the inside he’s much gentler than you’d expect, much more. It’s day five of riding out the confirmed flu when once again Yoongi is standing in your kitchen area, having just tucked you up on the sofa.

The pounding in your head has dulled, the aching of your joints and muscles has lessened. You still don’t feel 100% but you’re a hell of a lot better than you were, and it’s all because of Yoongi. It’s strange, one minute you didn’t know much about him and the next it was as though you’d known him forever. He’s scanning the contents of your cupboard with pinched brows, but you’re way more focussed on how his slender fingers trace patterns on the cupboard door while he searches for what he wants.

“Shit, no green tea left.” He sighs exasperatedly, “I think I’ve got some at my place…”

You’re smiling, attempting to show indifference when Yoongi closes the cabinet door and zones in on your face. You cough, looking away, “What’s wrong with my mom’s homemade stuff? It tastes nice, you should try it.”

“No can do,” Yoongi chuckles, slipping his shoes back on to head out into the hall and back to his apartment, “My roommate is allergic to rose thorn.”

You frown, prodding the inside of your cheek with your tongue to showcase your confusion, “But your roommate won’t be the one drinking it…?”

“Not directly, no.” Yoongi sighs, brushing fingers through his long brunette hair. Today he’s wearing an all-black outfit consisting of a very tight fitted t shirt and loose baggy jeans, all tied together with a leather jacket that’s currently hung up on your coat stand. “But you can never be too careful where allergies are concerned. I’ll be right back.”

After ninety minutes of waiting for Yoongi to come back to your place the drowsiness of the medication is in full swing and you drift off to sleep on the sofa. It’s an unknown amount of time later when you feel your limp body being shifted around, until your head is resting on something warm with a beating heart and there’s an arm loosely draped over your waist. The familiar woody scent of Yoongi’s cologne is the last thing you pick up on before you fall back to sleep, completely oblivious to your surroundings save for the comforting hold of your next door neighbour.

It's been a week since Jungkook last heard from you, if he had a heart it would be yearning for you to reach out to him right now. This is the longest the two of you have gone with zero contact since the night you met, even his employees Jimin and Namjoon haven’t seen you around your college campus or your neighbourhood. Which is unusual to say the least considering they’ve memorised your scent and know where you live. It’s like you’ve disappeared.

The only thing that has stopped Jungkook from directly reaching out to you himself is his pride, that and the fact Jimin and Taehyung have grown suspicious of his recent behaviour. It’s not that he’s in love with you or anything, vampires aren’t capable of such humane complexities. But he’s addicted to you, to the taste of you, to the sight of you, the scent of you. Everything about you lingers in his soulless being like an ache, he misses you. He misses your blood.

He’s due to run out of your donations any day now, giving that he’s being rationing himself to one test-tube per day of the euphoric rush your blood provides. He has three tubes left, and the fact he hasn’t heard a single peep from you in a week makes him feel… Well that’s just it, you make him feel.

Sitting alone in a private dance room at Euphoria he dials your number, wanting to schedule another… meeting with you as soon as possible. It’s when a voice he didn’t expect to hear answers, whispered and smug, that Jungkook stops breathing.

“Hello?” It’s a guy speaking, sounding every bit arrogant which ignites a fire of fury inside the vampire.

“Where’s Y/N.” Jungkook bites, immediately sitting up right on the leather sofa, almost crushing his cell phone in his strong grip. “Who the fuck is this?”

“She’s sleeping.”

Jungkook’s fangs double in length when his question is ignored, angering him further, “Who the fuck are you and why do you have Y/N’s phone?” He spits venomously, nostrils flared and eyes wide, rounded yet still fierce. His voice is bleeding with unsaid threats, anyone in their right mind would be terrified of him in this moment.

“I didn’t steal her phone if that’s what you’re implying…” The voice laughs sadistically, still remaining quiet and albeit unphased by Jungkook’s tone, “She’s here, she’s asleep on me right now—”

“Who the fuck are you?!” Jungkook growls, rushing to his feet, the leather sofa he was sitting on moments before flying back and crashing against the ground, smashing to pieces. His chest is heaving up and down, breathing ragged and mind clouded by the idea of you cosying up next to someone. “Are you in her apartment?! I’ll see you there in five—”

“Good luck with that,” The man sighs, bored-sounding as though this is the most mundane conversation he’s ever had, “Place is drowning in rose thorns.”

Jungkook’s features drop until no emotion remains, “A hunter.”

“Not exactly,” The man audibly shifts, a low delicate hum can be heard in the background and Jungkook’s chest tightens, he knows that’s your voice, “But you don’t belong in Y/N’s world. Stay away from her.”

“Stay away from her?! You think I—”

The call ends, pissing Jungkook off to the point where he’s launching his cell at a wall-length mirror that stands opposite him, smashing it to pieces. He catches sight of his reflection, his profile is tense and seething, equal parts disgusted and angry. His favourite leopard print shirt barely covers his chest, the top four buttons undone at least exposing his taught dewy skin. Tied with black slacks and bare feet, the club hasn’t opened yet and he knows he has to calm down and screw on his business head before customers arrive. But that’s going to be somewhat impossible now.

Who the fuck is in your apartment?! That guy is probably poisoning you with rose thorn. Jungkook’s entire body stiffens, fuck this, why does he care so much?! If you want to fuck around with men—, no. He can’t even bring himself to think about you being intimate with anyone else. Not that he’s fucked you, he’s never even kissed you because every time he entertains the mere thought of it the smell of your blood floods his senses and all he can think about is killing you.

Kissing a human, a few months ago he would’ve felt physically ill at the thought. But now? Kissing you is something Jungkook wishes he had the strength execute properly.

As soon as the flu passes you find yourself standing outside the familiar door adorned with a golden ’97’ on the front. You haven’t been to Jungkook’s place in almost two weeks now, you haven’t communicated with him at all but this conversation is something that has to be done face to face. You want out. Out of the donations, away from the vampires.

It’s nothing personal, there’s no bad blood between you and Jungkook but frankly you can’t keep doing this. For whatever reason your blood is special, you understand that, well at the very least you’ve accepted it. And Jungkook wants to know why, rightfully so – it’s just the constant donating is taking a toll on your body, you still don’t feel completely recovered from the flu and there are new aches and pains in your limbs every day. You’ve been to the doctor, mostly because Yoongi forced you to go to the doctor, and they confirmed your bloodwork is all over the place.

You have low iron, borderline no B12, your haemoglobin levels are dangerously under what medical professionals deem to be normal. Truthfully you’re exhausted, the mere thought of gifting any more blood to Jungkook makes your knees buckle under your weight. You feel weak, you feel tired. Which is precisely why you’re standing at Jungkook’s front door, wearing a rich burgundy off-the-shoulder sweater and black skinny jeans, tied together with a pair of black military style boots.

The dark front door swings open before you’ve even had the chance to knock, revealing Jungkook’s wide doe-like eyes shocked and confused to see you here. You swallow, having forgotten how… ethereal he is.

Today he’s wearing a fancy white shirt with plentiful ruffles gathering at the front of his chest, the first to buttons undone and revealing his tattooed dewy skin. The trousers he wears are similar to yours, black and tight fitting, except his are made completely of leather and shine beneath the November moonlight. It’s not a moment later when Jungkook’s features drop into a tight scowl, thick dark brows furrowed and nostrils flared.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is threatening, a little dangerous and lacking any trace of concern.

Awkwardly shifting your weight between your legs you sigh, looking him dead in his faintly stained crimson red eyes, “Can I come in?”

Rather than verbally responding he steps to one side, granting you access to his home. It’s still surprising to you how not gothic and creepy this place is, instead it’s homely and warm. At least this level of the house is, what lies in his basement is far from homely…

You slip onto a barstool in the kitchen, noting how Jungkook is keeping a large distance between your bodies. Right. He’s not tied up this time, he’s probably resisting the urge to kill you right now.

“It’s not because of that,” Jungkook reads your mind with a whispered scoff, “You stink of him, that’s all.” He folds his strong arms over his chest and you have to try not to stare at the bulging muscles flexing and moving beneath the very thin fabric of his shirt. The material is so sheer in fact, that you can see the tattoos that lie beneath.

“Him?” You frown, heart pounding in your chest as the realisation dawns on you – he means Yoongi. “Oh… Yeah, my neighbour has been looking after me… I’ve been sick. That’s actually why I came over…” You swallow again, mouth suddenly feeling very dry when Jungkook makes his way over to you in a few long strides, until he’s at the opposite side of the kitchen island.

His tattooed hands rest on the marble surface either side of his body, arms straight and stare stuck on you. “You should’ve told me you were sick, I could’ve helped you.” There’s zero emotion in his tone, no clues as to what he’s feeling etched onto his face, nothing.

“Helped me…?” Your brows are pinched together again, flaunting your confusion, eyes wandering to the swell of the vampire’s shoulder muscles, round and inviting. In an ironic way they almost look biteable, like large succulent pieces of fruit joining his arms to his equally as enticing body. His taught, big, beefy—

One of Jungkook’s eyebrows raise, the pierced one, his stare is intense and doesn’t falter from your for even a second. “Can you stop that?”

“Stop what?” You blink at him, a little anxious.

“Stop staring at me like that while you’re thinking such obscenities.” He says bluntly, the usual glimmer of flirtation nowhere to be seen.

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you look away quickly, clearing your throat, “Sorry.”

“If you were sick you should’ve called, you’re a smart girl. I’m sure you know all about what a drop of my blood can do.” Jungkook cracks his neck, eyes fluttered shut as though he’s actively trying not to look at you. “I’ve never let a human feed from me, but if you really were sick I would’ve made an exception.”

“What do you mean if I ‘really were sick’?” You scoff, pursing your lips, “Do you think I’m lying about being ill? Why on earth would I do that Jungkook?” You shake your head in disbelief, fucking vampires and their stupid sexy brooding faces and thoughts.

Of course he doesn’t believe you, probably thinks you spent the week avoiding him to hook up with Yoongi since you ‘stink of him’. Sighing, you mirror his movements, planting your hands down onto the countertop, cocking your head to eye him curiously.

“That’s exactly what I think, actually.” Jungkook looks scary, the tinge of red to his eyes has taken over his whole irises, the once faint stain of colour is now opaque and unmistakably deep ruby. Burning with something indescribable, boring into your soul from across the countertop. “Look me in the eye and tell me he didn’t touch you, tell me his scent isn’t all over you for the reason I think it is.”

You’re laughing, the sound empty and absent, “Stay out of my head! Are you asking if he touched me, or if he fucked me?” You fold your arms over your chest, subconsciously pushing the swell of your breasts up without trying, “Because they’re two very different questions.”

The vampire’s stare darkens, flickering to your chest for a moment so brief it could pass as an accident, “And yet the answer is the same for both, isn't it?”

“You’re right.” You hum, “He didn’t touch me, or fuck me. Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Silence.

“Lets say for arguments sake he did fuck me… What could you do about it?” You scoff, frowning at him when you stand, “You don’t own me Jungkook, stop acting like you do. If I want to fuck my next door neighbour who the hell are you to stop me?! You’ve never even touched me yourself—”

“How fucking dare you,” Jungkook’s standing next to you in the blink of an eye, sharp fangs and familiar face bruising dominating his chiselled features. He’s looking down at you as though you’re everything wrong with the world, as though he despises you to your very core and his voice is equally as disgusted. “Show up at my home, drowning in another man’s cologne and try to pick a fight with me. Are you frustrated because I haven’t touched you myself, is that it?” He spits, lowering his head until you’re both nose-to-nose, “You want me to touch you, don’t you? You’re either very brave, or very foolish.”

Jungkook’s breath is hot on your face but you don’t fold, looking up at the familiar monster he’s become with unwavering, strong eye contact, despite the hammering of your heart inside your chest, “Are you jealous that I was with another man?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Of course I’m not jealous. I don’t own you, remember.” He scoffs, wetting his lips. The way his chest is heaving with each and every angry breath he takes is all the confirmation you need to know he’s lying, “The supplies are in the basement, make your donation and get the fuck out of my house.”

At this you try to push him away, the apple of his shoulder is rock hard beneath your palm when you attempt to move his body away for yours. But of course, as to be expected, he stays exactly where he is. A frustrated sound escapes you, similar to a whine or maybe even a defeated whimper. Whatever description it falls under, it has Jungkook smirking when you step away from him.

“Not so brave now, are we?” He chuckles, eyes raking the spans of your bare shoulders when he swallows.

You stand your ground, “The reason I came here is to call off our… arrangement, whatever you want to call this. It’s making me sick, my blood work is messed up and frankly I can think of better ways to spend my evenings—”

“Stop seeing him then, problem solved.” Jungkook barks, edging closer, voice louder, “He’s the one who convinced you to stop this arrangement, isn’t he?”

Your mouth falls open in equal parts shock and rightfully placed, albeit a little delayed fear, “N-no… Yoongi doesn’t even know about what we’re doing… I haven’t told anyone.” You silently plead with him, nervous of what he’ll do to you if he thinks you’re lying, “I need to stop doing this for my health…”

“I can fix that. I can make you healthy again.” He’s calm now, the fury behind his eyes softening with each passing moment.

“I don’t want to feed from you, Jungkook.”

“Think of it as medicine.”

“Except it’s not medicine.” You sigh, growing agitated.

“A drop of my blood will rid you of any human illness—”

“It’ll also turn me into a monster!” You blurt, immediately regretting that decision when every hair on your body stands to attention as you’re being hurried downstairs into his basement, faster than you can humanly process.

The familiar scent of warm amber and ginger hits you like a train and in the next breath your back is firmly pressed against a brick wall adorned with leather sex accessories. Paddles, floggers, whips, ball-gags, collars, everything a person can think of is pressing against your back. Tears stab at your vision, clouding it entirely when you catch sight of Jungkook’s strong arms caging your body in either side of your face, keeping you in place.

“You’d only turn if you died with my blood in your system…” The calmness, the consideration and purity of Jungkook’s voice surprises you. He doesn’t sound mad, he doesn’t appear to be anything related to angry. Instead his tone is sincere and offers solace. “And you’re an even bigger fool than I thought if you haven’t figured this out by now…” He whispers, lips tracing up your jaw until his fangs are pressed against the shell of your ear, “But I would never let that happen.”

“I’m s-sorry…” You whisper back, dizzy from his words, “I didn’t mean to call you a monster…” Your breath is shaky, eyes fluttering shut in an attempt to calm yourself down. He's going to fucking kill you down here.

“That’s exactly what I am Y/N.” Jungkook’s head is still dipped, lips grazing your ear as the words roll off his tongue, sending a hot shiver down your spine that you can’t even describe. “But don’t do this, don’t stop making donations.”

He pulls his face back on instinct when your eyes open, leaving you staring at each other with open mouths. Your heartrate picks up, until the sound of your pulse is deafening your ears. Your voice is quiet, cautious and calculated when it tumbles from your lips, “…Jungkook, my health comes first. I can make one final donation but after that you’re gonna have to find someone else to test—”

“Except there is nobody else. If you’re sick because of me, let me fix it.” Inked fingertips find their way to your bare shoulder, you tense beneath his touch and you register him wetting his pierced lips, his face is less than arms-length away and it’s enough to make you nervous. He’s not chained up this time, there’s nothing stopping him from killing you in an instant. “Please.”

“Why…?” You exhale.

“If I wanted you dead you would be already, don’t you trust me?” His voice is hoarse.

Your breath catches in your throat but you find yourself nodding, “Fine… But-, I’m… We’re not going to be like bound forever if I do this, right? If I-, if I drink your...”

At this Jungkook’s gaze deepens with hope, flashing with something a little sinister, “That’s not how it works. You’ll be restored to full health and your body temperature will burn it off in a couple days. You only need a drop.”

“That’s it?” You snort, undeniably confused, the media has always made the exchange of vampire blood out to be something akin to injecting heroin. “That’s all that happens? I don’t get addicted or anything?”

“That’s all that happens…” Jungkook smirks, his fangs extending two inches longer than his other teeth, one hand rolling the sleeve up on his other arm in preparation. “You have my word.”

You should be frightened, uncomfortable and scared shitless when his fangs pierce the tattooed skin of his wrist, until a tiny amount of blood gathers round his lips and drips from the open-wound. You should be running for the hills, you should be screaming, crying, throwing up or having an anxiety attack from what you’ve just witnessed.

But the only emotions coursing through your veins are… Curiosity. Bewilderment. Excitement. Is this a good idea? Definitely not. Do you trust Jungkook? You shouldn’t. Are you really going to do this?

You are.

Jungkook’s pierced plump lips are stained red, the skin surrounding his mouth tinted pink, you’ve never seen his lips look so inviting before. Almost swollen and begging to be kissed. Your gaze flickers back to his eyes, they’re crimson in colour and glowing beneath the dim lighting in the basement. He’s… beautiful.

“Stay still.” His voice is barely audible when he takes two small steps closer to you, his bleeding wrist is forgotten about when he edges even closer, hands finding purchase on the wall you’re pressed against. His scent is intoxicating, he’s staring at you with a gaze full of equal parts desire and uncertainty. “Don’t move Y/N…”

“Jungkook…” You whisper, subconsciously wetting your own lips in preparation for what you think is about to happen.

“Please…” He exhales, swallowing thickly, “Stay… Exactly how you are.” His eyes close, dark eyelashes dusting the tops of his cheekbones. When his mouth opens again you register that while his fangs are still sharp and unmistakably inhuman, they’re shorter and less-threatening. His chin starts to tilt towards yours, lips still parted, shallow breaths warming your face.

Slowly his eyes are open again, barely, but his hooded stare is intense enough to make you weak at the knees and win your heart to explode in your chest, “The unfathomable desire to have you… makes me feel human again.”

“Jungkook, please-,” It’s a slender tattooed finger pressing gently to your lips that cuts you off, you know Jungkook is trying his best to keep calm, his features are tight and crumpled with something indescribable. His digit leaves your lips and travels to your chin, angling your face up to meet his.

“Don’t move.” He whispers.

“Okay…”

He hushes you, lightly shaking his head, “Don’t speak.”

It’s the sound of your own gasp that fills the silence when Jungkook’s blood-stained lips are a hair away from yours, the coolness of his metal lip ring pressed against your mouth further confirmation this is the closest he’s ever been. You peer up at him through long eyelashes, breath hitching, zoning in on the two tiny face tattoos that sit beneath his eyes.

Divine. Sinner.

“Please… Stay exactly as you are.” He reiterates seriously, with more determination.

And then he kisses you, showing you exactly how kisses are meant to be.

It’s the way his lips are softly pressed to yours, the metallic yet sweet hint of his blood lingering on them. It’s how his inked fingers quickly and roughly grip your hips, the hold strong enough to shatter your bones. It’s the way he’s pressing you harder and harder against the wall, the way you’re already desperate for more but more of what you’re unsure. It’s the way his fangs graze your lips when his tongue slides into your mouth, accompanied by a drawn-out hushed moan.

Your head is spinning, arms snaking over Jungkook’s broad shoulders just to keep yourself standing. Your legs are wobbly, your heart thumping, body burning with an indescribable heat that you’ve never experienced before. You’re lost to his kiss, simultaneously damned and saved. It’s as though two worlds are colliding, maybe it’s heaven and hell. Maybe it’s vampires and humans. Or maybe, it’s nothing more and nothing less than you and Jungkook.

You do more than simply let him kiss you, you kiss him back. Fervently, intently, as though your entire existence depends on it. It’s Jungkook knocking your legs apart with his thick thigh that wins you to gasp, smiling against his lips triumphantly.

“I can’t-,” He exhales with furrowed brows, the words slipping from his lips and straight onto yours with another kiss, a hungrier kiss. “I can’t stop, how is this possible?” He murmurs.

“I don’t want you to stop.” You emphasise your words with a gentle tug of his hair and something inside Jungkook snaps — He pulls himself to the other side of the basement with a heaving chest, kiss-swollen blood stained lips and wide eyes. Leaving you standing alone, disoriented and yearning.

“You need to leave.” Jungkook says curtly, looking everywhere in the room except you, completely in disbelief of what just happened. “Y/N you need to leave now, I don’t want to hurt you.” The way you know he means that sends a pang of something unfamiliar straight to your chest.

“You won’t.”

“I want to.” He admits, wetting his lips. “I… I want to hurt you.”

"What about the donation...?" You ask sheepishly, feeling confused and embarrassed all at once.

Jungkook swallows, he's breathing through his mouth heavily as though he's attempting to calm himself. "You're the one who said you were done donating. Lets part ways here, while we still can." The venom dripping from his tone makes you scoff, makes you angry.

You shake your head, determined legs taking you over to where he’s stood before any rational thoughts can stop you, “No. You don’t get to kiss me like that and pretend it never—”

Within the blink of an eye he crushes his lips to yours again, the familiar taste of his blood gifting your body a surge of energy. This kiss is different, if the last one were akin to two worlds colliding this one can only be described as two lost, broken hearts exploding and becoming whole. It’s messy, it’s desperate and loud. Both of you moaning and gasping for air while your tongues explore the other’s.

It's not until your back slams into the nearest wall, every accessory hung up hurling to the floor as dust clouds rush from the exposed bricks that you register he’s holding you. Your legs wrap round his waist, hands already deep in his raven hair, his hands are squeezing the fat of your ass cheeks with so much force you feel bruised.

“Jungkook… I want you.” You pant, reattaching your lips to his with more urgency.

He's resting his forehead to yours, peeling away from your lips for just a moment when his dark hooded eyes flutter open, his stare intense and unwavering, completely zoned in on you.

“If I had a soul it would already be yours.”

Suddenly he’s kissing you with everything he has, with everything he is. All his defences shattering only to be replaced by the lust-fuelled hunger surging both your bodies. With your back firm against the wall that’s barely standing, bricks tumbling to the ground from how hard you’re pushed against it, your legs snaking his middle keep you in place. It’s when Jungkook laces his fingers with yours, pinning them above your head that your eyes meet his again.

The satisfaction darkening his chiselled features is unmistakable. As is the relief, the need, the want, lust, desire, desperation and even the hint fear. It’s as though you’re looking straight into an emotional mirror, everything you’re feeling he’s feeling too. After one final kiss, a kiss so passionate not even Shakespeare himself could describe it, Jungkook’s sharp fangs are pressed to your neck and you gasp.

“You… You need to leave, now.” He rasps, finding the strength to pull away from you and aid your feet to the ground. “Leave.”

This time you don’t need telling twice, bruising and wine-coloured veins darken Jungkook’s eyes and you’re painfully reminded of what he is. And what could’ve just happened.

“S-sorry. I’m sorry.” You scramble up the stairs, hurling yourself out of his home as fast as you can, delirious and uncertain of what the future holds. The only thing on your mind being the sincerity behind Jungkook’s hooded gaze when those heart shattering words left his pierced, welcoming lips.

“If I had a soul it would already be yours.”

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missmaywemeetagain · 4 months

Text

Got a Lotta Lovin' to Do (A Scarf Universe Story) ❤️‍🔥

Okay, sooooo...this just came to me in a strange fit of inspiration this week. It's naughty but also a little sweet in concept. It may not be for everyone, so let's say it's currently canon adjacent for the Pink Scarf Universe...

This takes place a few months post A Pink Scarf Thanksgiving, in February of 1978. Yes, I know, we make it to '78 and there is something both heart wrenching but also wonderful in that, isn't there?

I wanted something that felt real but also a bit indulgent, and also wanted to bring our spitfire Sandy back into play. In fact, I made it from Sandy's perspective, which was a bit challenging considering the use of second person, but hopefully it makes sense!!

Premise is that Reader is in a fix, desperate to coax a very nervous Elvis back into her bed, and enlists her best friend Sandy to help in an unorthodox way.

Anyway, I'm a bit nervous about this one 😬 and am just sort of testing the waters as a preview, so let me know if you like it and want me to continue it! (Also, the turnaround was fast, so please excuse the semi-rough edit/revision! 🙏🏼)

xoxoxox, Madi 💗

(listen, I know this pic is much earlier than '78, but the vibe is right and the hint of silver at his roots seems applicable and has me in a chokehold, so bear with me here...)

TW: sexy smutty stuff, heading towards a threesome (mff/fmf), mention of medical issues/trauma, sassy Sandy, silver fox Elvis!!🦊

Got a Lotta Lovin’ to Do

February 1978

“Darlin’, you sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’?” he asks you. Elvis’ eyebrow is halfway to his hairline and he sounds more incredulous than hopeful, but Sandy can see the twinkle in his eyes when they slide over to her. It’s more than a cursory glance, one filled with questions and a latent heat. She wrestles with the urge to fidget under his gaze, clenching and unclenching her fists instead of looking away from his scrutiny.

She’s certainly never been one to back down from a fight, not even with the enigma that is Elvis Presley.

Especially not with him, she thinks.

But Elvis has never looked at her like this before and even knowing him as long as she has, she isn’t unaffected. Despite everything he’s been through this past year, he still has the ability to level a woman with a look, she’ll give him that.

His eyes slide back over to you, and Sandy can breathe again. It’s gonna be a long night, she thinks, if a mere glance has her feeling so exposed.

You nod, biting your lip, and she knows how nervous you are, how desperate you are for this to work. She grabs your hand in solidarity and you squeeze it in return.

If it were anyone but you, she wouldn’t have agreed to this. It is much too messy, but extraordinary people and circumstances call for extraordinary measures, and being in Elvis’ world has always meant living in shades of gray.

Sandy knows she’s the only one you’ll trust with this. For as much shit as she gives Elvis, she loves and cares about you both deeply, more than she might voice in mixed company. And you know she understands why this is so important.

Now the two of you just need to convince Elvis of it, too. Though by the increasing level of tension in the room and the way he adjusts himself in his seat, Sandy doesn’t think it’ll take much persuading.

He cuts quite the figure, sitting there in the plush, golden, velvet chair with his bejeweled fingers tapping a slow and steady rhythm out on the arms. After what happened last summer, he’d finally let his hair grow out to its natural color, the salt-and-pepper combined with glinting silvery streaks. It’s incredibly striking, giving him an even more handsome and regal air than before, if that’s possible. With his new post-recovery regime, he is looking good and, according to you, feeling healthier than he had in years. The result is attractive, to say the least.

But while that side of things improved, the sexual piece apparently has not.

Sandy and you perch on the edge of the bed, sitting so close you are pressed against each other, facing him, waiting for his verdict. Elvis takes in the two of you closely before sliding his eyes back over to her.

“And you, Sandra? You agreed to this?” His voice is laden with curiosity and surprise. She doesn’t blame him.

“Yes, with conditions,” she says, willing her voice to stay steady and calm when she’s feeling anything but.

He chuckles darkly. “Of course. I’d expect nothin’ less from you, honey.”

The endearment, one he’s used with her a million times over the years, now comes out laden and warm, sliding through her veins like liquid heat. She’s not sure how she feels about it, to be honest, but it’s a little late to turn back now.

Sandy looks at you for permission to continue. You nod.

“Okay, first, this is a one-time deal,” she begins, forcing herself to look him straight in those endlessly blue eyes.

His lips curve up with the beginning of a smirk and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know what he’s thinking. She thinks it’s funny how he’s posturing, considering the whole reason she is here is to help bolster his confidence, but she supposes over twenty years of adoration from females makes his response a habit.

Honestly, it’s the stipulation she’s the least worried about, it being there more for your sake than hers, and it gives you all an out if this goes south. But boundaries are good for Elvis. So she quirks a brow back at him until he nods.

“Second, no one hears about this. It’s a nonstarter. No bragging to the guys, ever. No one outside this room can ever know…especially not Jerry.”

This is the one she is most worried about. While her marriage to Jerry ended over half a decade ago, on relatively decent terms considering the circumstances, she knows this would cut Jer to the core, and that is not why she’s here. Jerry isn’t in Elvis’ employ anymore, but they are still good friends, brothers even, and she doesn’t want to ruin their relationship.

A cloud of seriousness falls over Elvis’ face, banishing his earlier mirth, and that lets her know they are on the same page with this one, despite his terrible track record of secret keeping. “Done,” he says with finality.

“Good. Third, I reserve the right to bow out at any time,” she adds.

“Honey, I’d never force you to do somethin’ you din’t want to do. Ain’t never been like that and ain’t startin’ now,” he says with surprising gentleness.

She nods, expecting as much. Taking a deep breath, she pauses before the last request, mainly because she can’t believe she’s actually saying it out loud. Might as well just get it done.

“Finally, your dick stays out of my pussy.”

He chuckles at your frankness while you choke, coughing wildly—she hadn’t warned you about this one. It’s more the principle of the thing, really. She is along for the ride, sure, but in the end, she’s mostly here for your wellbeing. And by the way he looks at Sandy with something akin to respect and nods as she rubs his wife’s back, she knows he understands.

You eventually recover from Sandy’s bluntness, turning your attention back to your husband with a hopeful look in your eyes. “So, is this…I mean…do you want to do this, baby?”

For the first time, you see his trepidation, his overwhelm of the situation only barely covered by his mask of humor. This is what you’d been talking about, this reluctance and lack of self-assurance. When you’d come to her about the fact that Elvis hadn’t been intimate with you since the medical crisis that nearly killed him, it made perfect sense. Not only had he gone through something terrifying, but his surgeries also changed his body in ways that must have been uncomfortable. Coupled with extensive recovery and weaning off old medications and starting new ones, it was a recipe for disaster in the bedroom.

Sandy knew you had to be desperate for you to ask her for this kind of help. You knew it wasn’t because Elvis found you unattractive or didn’t love you anymore—he was afraid he couldn’t perform, afraid he couldn’t satisfy you, and you were afraid you’d hurt him somehow. It was obvious your sex life had been amazing in the past, though according to you, it had dwindled the sicker and more in denial about things he’d gotten. But for you to invite her into the bedroom to put the spark back in their marriage wasn’t something Sandy had expected.

Apparently, Elvis loved some girl-on-girl threesome action and had indulged in such things back before you and he had finally gotten together. You were never entirely comfortable with the idea when Elvis brought it up in the past—the idea of sharing him didn’t sit well and knowing Elvis, he’d make some poor woman fall in love with him or someone would talk and you’d be in a fix, so the idea had been nixed before it could take root.

But now you were frantic and willing to try almost anything, which apparently included asking your best friend to fool around with you and your husband.

It’s a matter of trust, you’d said, twiddling your fingers uncomfortably in Sandy’s kitchen, tears pooled in your eyes. You knew she’d never talk, knew she’d never betray you, and most importantly, knew she could separate sex from emotion and would never fall in love with your husband.

It was all true. How could she say no to you when you needed her help so badly? So, here she was, apprehensive but intrigued, waiting for Elvis to decide all of your fates.

“You can just watch, baby, if you want to, or whatever, it’s fine,” you encourage him when he seems frozen and unable to respond. Sandy can see you both floundering in indecision and fear and can’t stand it anymore. She’s never been one for patience or inaction, after all, so without further ado, she silences your pleas for your husband’s attention with her lips.

“Oh!” you exclaim in quiet surprise against her mouth, your hands flailing a bit in resistance.

Talking about something like this and doing it are two different things, Sandy knows, but she persists, kissing you gently, hands cupping your cheeks, until you relax enough to kiss her back. She can’t help but feel a little gratification when you sigh softly and yield to her, your hands flitting to the curve of her hips.

It would be stupid to say she didn’t find both you and Elvis attractive, but never in her wildest dreams had it been in the cards to have either of you, so she’d never dwelled much on it. But now, feeling the weight of his gaze as she laps her tongue between your lips, testing your willingness to do this, her body lights on fire.

She pushes through the foreign feeling of being watched so intimately, knowing this is just as much about putting on a good show than anything else, but she didn’t expect it to be quite so tantalizing. Something about being the one to take charge sends a thrill down her spine. Dragging her lips down your neck to your collarbone, she knows she’s not imagining the rapid fluttering of your pulse under her lips or the way you lean back to give her more access.

You’ve never been with a woman, but she knows it’s been a long time since you’ve had attention of this sort from your man, either so when Sandy trails her fingers down over your breast, she feels the jolt go through you. Her moves are deliberate but slow, allowing you to acclimate, allowing Elvis to take in every movement.

She can’t help the warmth pooling in her belly when she palms the heaviness of your breast, pinching your clothed nipple and you gasp, arching into her with genuine willingness.

“Lord have mercy,” Elvis huffs quietly, and you both know you have him.

It’s much too easy, then, to unbutton your blouse, exposing the white lace bra underneath before pulling hers up over her head to reveal her own. You’d been clear about the white—apparently he gets all kinds of excited about little white underthings—and far be it for her to ignore such a titillating detail.

Sandy takes it upon herself to continue the play, pressing her lips to the soft skin of your décolletage, following the soft rise of your breasts before nuzzling and nipping at the dusky areola peek-a-booing through the lace. Mewling and pawing at her head, you are strung so tight Sandy thinks you’re not acting in the least.

It’s a little strange, this softness of your curves against her own, but pleasant. Moreover is the deep satisfaction in her belly at drawing little whimpers out of you as she kisses and reveals more of your skin. Even more surprising is the gratification of bringing something out of both you and your husband that has been out of reach for much too long.

Your fingers cart through her hair, manicured nails tickling her scalp in a way that makes her vibrate. She arches at the contact and looks up at you with a coy smile, sliding a hand up your smooth leg and under the hem of your skirt.

Elvis clears his throat, interrupting them. “Be good lil’ girls f’me and s-strip down to your panties,” he says in a gravelly voice Sandy has never been privy to hearing. A shiver runs down her spine, melting and churning with all the new feelings the evening is bringing. His tone is halfway between a need and a command and neither of you need to be asked twice.

Her inhibitions fall to the floor in a heap along with pants and skirts and bras. Never once in her life did she expect to feel Elvis’ heavy, heated gaze turned on her nearly naked form but now that it’s happening, she can’t help but squirm a little. She has nothing to prove and is usually confident in her skin, but she’s certainly not a young woman anymore, her body soft and curvy with the changes age brings. Her only consolation is at least the three of you are in relatively the same boat in that regard.

Sneaking a glance at Elvis, she is bit relieved to find his examination admiring rather than turned off. Though, considering he has two naked women ready to do his bidding, it seems the natural response.

“Don’t be shy, Satnin. I’m sure Sandra won’t bite toohard if you touch her,” he muses, those bedroom eyes of his flickering with lust. You giggle nervously and then look to Sandy for permission, which she gives with a nod and a reassuring smile.

Your caress is timid at first, then more exploratory of her body than she expects. Maybe it’s the resounding hum of encouragement from your husband giving you more confidence or just pure sexual energy and curiosity, but whatever it is has Sandy feeling delightful. A tweak of a nipple here. A soft tongue there. Hands and mouths finding a rhythm of pleasure.

Sandy palms your bottom, running her fingertips down along the seam of your white underwear, when Elvis cuts in, his voice thick with desire:

“Play with her an’ make her feel good, Sandra.”

Tingles erupt over her skin. She follows orders, sliding her hand down into your panties and through your soft curls until she reaches your hooded clit. She rubs gently, like she would do to herself, and you gasp in her mouth, body bowing to get more friction.

After a few moments, the unmistakable sound of a zipper clicks through the air. Her body suddenly burns with the scandalous nature of it all, and her excitement surprises her.

“Is she wet?” he asks Sandy.

Sliding her fingers down, she can feel the slick of your arousal on her fingertips.

“Yes,” she says unabashedly.

A pause.

“Are you?” His voice is low and dripping with honey.

A pulse of heat starts throbbing in her core, and for the first time tonight, she stumbles over her words, suddenly breathless. “I…I think so?”

“Honey, see if you’re makin’ Sandra excited,” he commands you, then with humor adds, “She apparently doesn’t know.”

Sandy throws a glare Elvis’ way but then your fingers are cold against the blazing heat of her muff, a sensation which makes her jump as you glide your fingers over sensitive, slick skin.

“She’s soaked,” you relay demurely, and all at once Sandy feels like the tables have turned in this little tableau.

“Show me. Both of you.”

His demand makes her stomach drop, like she’s on a roller coaster.

She feels disappointed when you pull your hand away, and the sentiment feels mutual. Both of you display your shining fingers in the dim light.

Elvis crooks his finger and beckons you both closer.

There’s no helping the curious way her eyes drift down and land on his dusky pink cock, the head peeking out from his foreskin, dripping and standing at full attention now he’s been released from the confines of his black pants. Sandy’s mouth goes dry when she realizes just how much nature has blessed him in ways other than his talent.

Is it wrong that she wants to touch it, to feel the heavy heat of him in her palm? To make him shudder underneath her touch? Perhaps so. The itch to torture him with her body just a little for every cunning remark and every dumbass selfish move he’s made in the last 15 years is strong and it makes her tingle just to think of.

He must read the look on her face because his eyes go a bit wide with something unreadable before narrowing with laser focus.

Her heart starts thudding against her ribcage, all the blood rushing out of her head when he wraps his large hand around her wrist, dwarfing it, and pulls her between his spread muscular thighs. Then he draws those glistening fingers of hers right into his mouth.

She gasps. Every nerve in her body is set alight with fireworks as he sucks her fingers clean of his wife’s arousal, his tongue warm and soft and oh-so thorough.

It’s her whimpering now as he pins her with his flaming eyes. Her breath catches. His mouth pops off her digits.

“Mmm…sweet as a sundae. You’ll see, Sandra Dee.” A slow, sly grin spreads across his handsome face as he releases her wrist.

Being on the other end of that devastating smile, especially in a situation like this, has her trembling. It pisses her off a little, actually, that he’s having this effect, and by the glint in his eye, he knows it.

Like he’s saying, Game on.

Then, he looks to you, pulling you close. His mischievousness softens slightly. Sandy is glad to see under the red flush of pleasure on your cheeks there is also a look of relief on your face, as if you are thinking, “Oh, thank heavens, it’s working.”

Sandy steps back, happy to give the couple space, but Elvis’ hand shoots out, latching onto her arm.

“Nuh uh, now where d’ya think you’re goin’?” It’s husky and playful but also fraught with an undercurrent of tension, as though he’s not quite ready and maybe a little nervous about being alone with his wife. He keeps his hand on her arm but turns his attention to you.

“Haven’t sampled another pussy in a loooong time, lil’ mama,” he drawls up at you, “Ya sure you wanna give daddy a taste?” His brow quirks, asking for permission, making sure you’re still comfortable with this arrangement you’ve surprised him with. The words are confident, but Sandy can hear the gravity behind them.

You nod encouragingly. “Yes.”

“Mm’kay then,” and then he sucks your fingers right into his mouth.

Sandy can’t help but blush wildly as she watches him savor her off his wife’s hand. And it’s positively obscene the way he opens his eyes and stares into hers brazenly as he does it.

Never has she felt quite so exposed. Arousal swirls in her core, betraying all her sensibilities.

Elvis runs his tongue under his upper lip after he’s done, where he lets it peek out at the corner of his mouth with a smirk. “Now ain’t that jus’ the cherry on top,” he purrs, eyes sparkling.

Sandy hates how she goes a bit weak in the knees at that. God, this man infuriates her, always has in that loving way of his, but this is a whole different level of understanding and intimacy she’s not accustomed to with him.

But whether she likes it or not, her body is absolutely buzzing with anticipation for the both of you, as evidenced by the way she clenches her thighs and the way her panties get just a little bit more ruined.

The motion doesn’t go unnoticed by Elvis, and his gaze darkens.

Oh, it’s gonna be a long night, alright.

A long night, indeed.

As always, I love and live for your reactions, comments, asks, and reblogs, so thank you in advance for both reading and giving another one of my stories a chance!

Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

@littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

@precious-lil-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog @xenaspace3-blog

@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

#got a lotta lovin' to do #a scarf universe story #pink scarf #pink scarf universe #elvis presley #elvis #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presely smut

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