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#and i can already tell ive put on weight
omends · 1 year
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tag dump: indi & wystan
《 ° wystan ; visage 》 murder be thy name / always walking as somebody else
《 ° wystan ; aesthetic 》 screwed up and broken / beautifully twisted / foolishly gifted / maybe i was built for pain
《 ° wystan ; isms 》 the darker the weather the better the man ; you can take all you want but not who i am
《 ° wystan ; musings 》 ive turned my words into a weapon /   bloody lips but they speak the truth  
《 ° wystan ; interaction 》 do you want to put up a fight ? or do you want to get out alive ?
《 ° wystan ; meta 》  i rose up from the dead / i do it all the time
《 ° wystan ; ship things 》  so kiss me now this whiskey on my breath ; taste the lives that i have taken / what little soul that i have left
《 ° wystan ; desires 》  youre an idiot for thinking this was anything but blood on the wall / on the couch / on the corner of my mouth
《 ° indi ; visage 》 i thought i saw the devil this morning / looking in the mirror ; with a warning to help me see myself clearer
《 ° indi ; aesthetic 》 bullet proof in black like a funeral
《 ° indi ; isms 》 just picked out an early grave to bury shit ; not me just the weight that ive been carrying
《 ° indi ; musings 》 listen so you dont have to worry / ill tell you what you already know
《 ° indi ; interaction 》 coming out from under to die another day / safe to say ive seen better days
《 ° indi ; meta 》 is it a little too close for comfort ? what we become is in our own hands
《 ° indi ; ship things 》
《 ° indi ; desires 》 i feel so ignorant but i could never give up ; does anybody ever know when they got what they want ?
#《 ° wystan ; visage 》 murder be thy name / always walking as somebody else#《 ° wystan ; aesthetic 》 screwed up and broken / beautifully twisted / foolishly gifted / maybe i was built for pain#《 ° wystan ; isms 》 the darker the weather the better the man ; you can take all you want but not who i am#《 ° wystan ; musings 》 ive turned my words into a weapon /   bloody lips but they speak the truth#《 ° wystan ; interaction 》 do you want to put up a fight ? or do you want to get out alive ?#《 ° wystan ; meta 》  i rose up from the dead / i do it all the time#《 ° wystan ; ship things 》  so kiss me now this whiskey on my breath ; taste the lives that i have taken / what little soul that i have left#《 ° wystan ; desires 》  youre an idiot for thinking this was anything but blood on the wall / on the couch / on the corner of my mouth#《 ° indi ; visage 》 i thought i saw the devil this morning / looking in the mirror ; with a warning to help me see myself clearer#《 ° indi ; aesthetic 》 bullet proof in black like a funeral#《 ° indi ; isms 》 just picked out an early grave to bury shit ; not me just the weight that ive been carrying#《 ° indi ; musings 》 listen so you dont have to worry / ill tell you what you already know#《 ° indi ; interaction 》 coming out from under to die another day / safe to say ive seen better days#《 ° indi ; meta 》 is it a little too close for comfort ? what we become is in our own hands#《 ° indi ; desires 》 i feel so ignorant but i could never give up ; does anybody ever know when they got what they want ?
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rollingsins · 1 year
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all hers, part iii
part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue
summary: you’re hers. but she’s yours too. sometimes she needs a little reminding. sometimes you have no choice but to tie her up. 
warnings: (+18): smut: pussy-eating, vaginal fingering, bondage, dom!reader,  ghostface!tara.
word count: 2.4k
a/n: for anon, who requested dom!reader with some bondage. let me know what you want to see next ;) 
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In the end, it really isn’t that hard to hoodwink your Dad into thinking you were fast asleep in your bed most weeknights. 
You followed the same routine, ate dinner with him, said goodnight, then climbed out your bedroom window into Tara’s waiting car. In the mornings, she’d wake you with lazy kisses, take you back home before he woke up. You’d meet him downstairs for breakfast. And he didn’t suspect a thing.
It was one of those nights again. You were watching a movie tonight, some indie horror Tara had on her watchlist. You lay against her, sprawled across the couch lazily, head on her shoulder. When you’d first met her, you’d hated horror, hated any kind of gore. Now, you don’t mind it so much.
The actress is kind of cute. You find yourself thinking. She has dark hair, dark eyes, just like Tara’s. You briefly consider saying it aloud. You think better of it. 
“The main girl is kind of cute.” Tara says, casually. Sometimes you think she can read your mind. 
Jealousy flickers hot through you. It wasn’t often Tara expressed interest in other girls. In fact, it was almost never. She was completely devoted to you, or so you had thought. 
You frown, grip her hand a little tighter. 
“Too bad for her, you’re mine.” 
She hums, a smile playing on her lips. She likes it when you do that. Claim her. When you’re as possessive as she is. 
You turn your attention back to the TV, a little irked. She isn’t that cute, you think. And she isn’t Tara’s type. At all. Unconsciously, you tug Tara’s hand into your lap, grip tight. 
“What would you do if she was here right now?” Her voice is low. Lips against your ear. “If she was here. In this room. Hitting on me.” 
It’s a weighted question. You tighten your grip on her waist. 
“I’d tell her to fuck off.” 
Tara’s watching you. Your jaw is clenched. 
“Is that all?” 
You look at her. Try to figure out what kind of game she’s playing.
“What if you walked in on us? Having sex.” 
At this you sit up. Stare at her. Even the thought is like ice water down your spine. 
“I’d kill you.” Something flickers in her eyes. 
“Just me?” She whispers. “Would you kill her too?” 
Desire flickers deep within you. You let yourself think. Wonder. If some whore put her hands all over Tara. Kissed her. Took her to bed. You imagine walking in on them, some other girl in Tara’s lap. Riding her. Kissing her. Jealousy flickers through you, tearing your stomach into knots. 
“I’d gut her like a fish.” Is what you say. “And then fuck you until you forgot her name.” 
Tara’s mouth falls open slightly. Her eyes black with desire. She presses up into you, takes your lips in a searing kiss. 
“Because I’m yours.” She says, breathlessly. “And you’re mine.” 
You nod.
She presses up into you. Kisses you fiercely. 
“Fuck.” She murmurs against your lips. She’s excited. You can tell by the way her hands are roaming, tugging gently at the base of your shirt.  “Let’s go upstairs, baby. I want you.” 
It’s a familiar trek by this point. 
You’re fused at the lips, as always, wild hands and gentle gasps as you try to undress each other before you reach the bedroom. You’re already down to your underwear by the time your back hits the mattress, Tara’s weight on top of you, similarly undressed as she fumbles with your underwear. 
She’s gripping your hips. Unclipping your bra, pressing into you. You feel strange. Usually you like it this way. Tara on top, dominating you. It isn’t what you want tonight, you realize all at once. The thought of someone else with her is fresh in your mind. You want to flip her over. Make her remember she’s yours. 
“Stop.” You command. She pauses, looks at you, a little confused. Her hand brushes your cheek.
“What is it babe?” She asks, “Are you okay?” 
“I don’t want it like this.” She looks confused. You grab her suddenly, flip her around onto the bed. Crawl over her. She’s watching, a little surprised. 
“I want to be on top.” 
You press a hot kiss to her lips. She smiles against your mouth. “You know I like it when you’re on top.” She says, sucking at the base of your neck. Her fingers trail down between your legs. 
“No, baby.” You say, you reach for her hands, hold both of them over her head. “I want to be on top.”
She blinks up at you. 
“Oh.” 
You kiss her once more, bite at her bottom lip as you let her hands go. You press your full weight onto her, holding her into the mattress. Grind down into her as you reach for her thighs, guide them around your waist. 
You slip your tongue between her lips, grind mindlessly against her as you kiss. She’s wet, you can feel her on your stomach. You break away from Tara’s lips, trail kisses down her chest. 
Her hands grip tight around your neck, tugging you back up to her. 
She kisses you again, her thighs locking tight around your waist. You murmur against her lips, try to pull yourself out of her grasp. This isn’t what you’d meant. You were on top but she still had all the control. 
“Stop.” You say, but she doesn’t listen. Her lips fall to your jaw, sucking hotly as she grinds herself up into you. 
“If you can’t keep your hands to yourself I’m going to tie them up.” You order, suddenly. Your own voice startles you. She pauses, looks up at you. 
“Is that what you want?” You whisper against her lips. “You want me to tie you up and fuck you?”
Her eyes dart between yours. She licks her lips. 
“I want to touch you.” Is her answer, but you shake your head. 
“No touching. Not until you’ve earned it.” 
You can see the fight in her eyes. She wants to challenge you, you can tell. She’s not naturally submissive. Slowly, she nods. 
You smile. Nuzzle into her neck. 
“Good girl.” 
She lets out a breathless little sigh at that, her mouth dropping open only slightly. You press warm kisses down her chest, stopping at the slope of her chest to take her breast in your mouth. She groans as you tease her, kissing, scraping your teeth over her nipples. 
“YN.” She moans. Her hands are in your hair, trying to push you down to where she wants you, “Please.”
You release her nipple with a wet pop, look up at her as you untangle her hands from your hair. “No touching.” You insist. 
Her lip twitches. She rises up to meet you, takes your face in a desperate kiss. She tugs you into her lap before you can protest, her hands grip your ass as she bites down on your earlobe. 
“You’re mine.” She growls into your ear, “Mine to touch, mine to play with. If I want to touch you I will.” 
Her words go straight to your pussy. You feel yourself flood with arousal as you close your eyes, imagine just letting her throw you back onto the bed and do whatever she wants to you. 
No. Not yet. 
You grab her face, take her lips in a searing kiss. Then you’re taking her hands and tugging them above her head, pushing her back into the mattress. 
“Naughty girl.” You scold her, “I told you not to touch. I warned you.” 
You release her. Climb off her body and make your way over to her closet. She has a scarf somewhere, you remember, fish it out of one of her drawers. 
When you get back to the bed she’s watching you with clouded eyes. 
“Scoot up.” You tell her. She doesn’t. You grip her legs, lift her to the headboard. Her eyes flash, surprised by your strength. When you reach for her hands, this time she doesn’t protest. 
“So disobedient.” You murmur as you tie the scarf around her wrists, “What am I going to do with you?” 
You loop the scarf to the headboard. 
She looks so pretty in her restraints, hands held high above her head, lips blood red and swollen from your kisses. There’s something in her eyes, you can’t quite make out; arousal, sure, tinged with a little bit of uncertainty. Like she’s turned on, but she isn’t sure why. 
You reward her with a kiss. Move back to admire your handy-work. She’s only in her underwear now, bra long discarded. You finish the job, pulling her panties down her legs. You lick your lips. She looks delectable. Restrained, and wet and naked. All yours. 
“I can’t move my hands.” She says, pointedly. 
“Yes baby, that’s the point.” 
She tugs at her restraints, but they don’t even budge. The knots you learned in girl scouts were finally coming in handy. 
“I can’t touch you.” She whines. 
“It’s my turn to touch you.” You say. You spread her legs, nestle yourself between them. “If you’re a good girl and do exactly what I say, maybe I’ll take them off.” 
Her eyes flash. She goes quiet, stops struggling against the binds. You press a gentle kiss to her lips. 
“Can you do that?” You ask, “Can you be good for me?” 
She likes that, you note. She relaxes slightly, presses up into your kiss. 
You kiss her, slow. Trail your hands down her body. Press warm kisses down her body, drag your lips down her stomach. It wasn’t often you got to do this, worship her. You take your time, kissing her hips, the tops of her thighs, tasting the sweet salt of her skin. 
By the time you reach her center, she’s drizzling arousal onto the mattress. 
“Don’t tease.” She’s looking down at you. Pulling hard against her restraints. “Please, baby.” 
“Hmm.” You press a kiss to her thigh. “Orgasms are for good girls. But you haven’t been a good girl tonight, have you, darling?” 
She furrows her eyebrows. Tries to squeeze her legs tighter around you. 
“I told you not to touch and you did.” You sigh, “I even had to tie you up.” You press a heavy kiss to her hip. She’s tugging a little too hard at her restraints, now, desperate to free herself. You grip her thighs, hold her in place. 
“Stop it.” You say, voice hard. She blinks, stops struggling. 
“See?” You say, “Bad girl. You can’t help it, can you?” 
“I just want to touch you.” She says. Her voice is gravelly, low. Not quite pleading. But close. 
You take pity on her, press a gentle kiss to the top of her public bone. Her breath hitches. 
“I know.” You murmur against her skin, “But it’s my turn, baby.” 
You dip down, press your lips to her velvet folds. Her taste, her smell makes you salivate. You smooth your tongue through her, taking as much of it as you can into your mouth. Tara gasps beneath you as you begin your assault. 
It’s so nice to eat her pussy uninterrupted. Without her trying to tug you back up to kiss you, without her greedy hands reaching for you, always searching for more. 
It wasn’t that she didn’t like receiving pleasure, it was just that she desired your pleasure more than her own. She had this compulsion to please you. If you had your fingers inside her, she’d slip hers into you too. If you wanted to go down on her, she’d insist you sit on her face. Sometimes she’d cum before you even got to touch her, turned on so much just from fucking you. It wasn’t fair. You wanted her as much as she wanted you. 
Her body is tight, hips moving madly against your lips. She’s tugging on her restraints again.  
“Baby.” You press a warm, lingering kiss to her inner thigh, “Relax.” 
“Come up here.” She says. There’s no control in her voice anymore. She’s needy, desperate, “Come sit on my face. Let me taste you.” 
“Soon, sweetheart.” You murmur. You rub the outside of her thighs, trying to give her some comfort. “Right now I want to make you feel good.” 
You dart your tongue back out, lap gently at her. Syrupy sweetness oozes onto your tongue, you lick it up, greedy. You swirl your tongue in circles around her clit, gripping onto her thighs, trying to pull her even closer. She’s tilting her hips up to meet your mouth, breathless little moans slipping from her lips the way they always did when she was close. 
You lift your fingers to slip into her, hum against her clit as you feel her wet heat encompass you whole. You curl your fingers, tongue swirling madly around her as her legs clench around your head. Drive your fingers hard into her. She’s earned it now, you think as you suck gently on her clit. Such a good girl, letting you tie her up and fuck her. She deserves a reward. You tell her so. Press a final kiss to her thigh before you take her to the edge, sucking and licking and fucking her into her orgasm. 
She lets out a long, quiet moan, her entire body seizing as she cums in your mouth. You groan, her thighs pressed tight around your ears, her arousal dripping past your lips and onto your chin. You can feel her tight cunt throbbing around you, heartbeat steady as she pants, trying to recover her breath. 
You press one more kiss to her. Untangle yourself from her legs. 
You climb up her body, press a wanting kiss to her swollen lips. 
“Good girl.” You mumble into her lips, “Thank you, baby.” 
She’s slack against you, body still thrumming from her orgasm. You tuck yourself against her body, rest your head on her chest. 
“Untie me.” She says, not even seconds later, “Please.” 
You reach for the scarf, fumble for a moment before you tug it off her. Her wrists are red, chaffed from all her struggling. Before you can even toss the scarf aside, her hands are on you trying to pull you closer. She sighs against your lips, like everything is suddenly right in the world. 
You close your eyes, kiss her, not even realizing how much you’d missed her hands on you. Before you can enjoy the moment, she’s flipping you over, pinning you down into the mattress. You gasp. She hovers above you, her thigh between your legs. She’s gripping your hands over your head, looping the scarf around your wrists. 
“You had your fun.” Tara murmurs, eyes glinting with mischief, “Now it’s my turn.” 
Next part
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perlelune · 10 months
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Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | iv.
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Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.
Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail
This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.
𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
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"Put the phone down. On speaker," Ghostface orders.
The device almost slides right out of your clammy palm when you place it by your sock-covered foot. 
"Now…"
His voice dips, its intimate echo rippling across your skin.
Tension clogs your throat as you await his next command, a mess of shivering limbs on your bed.  
Whatever he asks you to do, you know you’ll hate it, and yourself. 
But there’s no other option when your friends’ lives hang in the balance. 
No choice besides yielding to the killer’s whims, however sick and twisted. 
"I want you to touch yourself, princess."
Puzzled by his request, you blink and parrot his words back to him,"Touch myself?"
He unleashes a dark laugh, a chill dancing on your spine at the sound. 
"Let me explain it in terms even my airheaded little princess can understand," he rasps, blatantly condescending. I want you to shove your fingers in that tight pussy while I watch you do it…and make yourself come." Your eyes widen in shock. "If you don’t come…" Your open thighs tremble as an air of malevolence saturates the air. "Goodbye Mindy and Anika."
The heavy, searing weight of his threat sits in your gut like hot coals. 
Your lip wobbles, a tear escaping the confine of your lids. 
"I’ll do it," you mutter, your quivering hand already inching to your exposed center. 
"Hey, no need to rush," he chuckles. "Take your time, princess. After all…I want to enjoy the show."
He sighs and a zipping sound followed by a muffled rustle reaches you. Relief flows from his inflection as he instructs, "Why don’t you start with rubbing your hand up and down your pussy?"
Sticky wetness coats your fingers as you glide them over your folds. 
Heat flares in your cheeks as Ghostface’s gruff moans rise from the phone. 
Though you can’t know for sure, you suspect from how breathless and hoarse he sounds, he may be touching himself too. 
You grow more embarrassed at the thought. 
"Unbutton your shirt and grab your tit." He lets out a throaty purr as you undo the buttons of your blouse. You palm your breast and rub your thumb over your pebbled peak. A hiss floats from your lips at the sensation, your core clenching. 
"Fuck…you’ve got the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen. You know that, princess?" He pauses, seeming to choke on his own breath before chiming, "Bet they’d look even better covered with my cum."
A shuddering breath escapes your mouth. 
"Put one finger inside. Tell me how it feels."
As you keep fondling your breast, you sink one digit inside your wet heat. You gasp as you graze a sensitive, spongy spot that makes your breath falter. 
"Wet. Tight…" Reflexively, as you rock inside your walls, they squeeze around your fingers. Ragged moans climb up your throat. 
Pleasure builds in your belly as it tenses. 
"Put a second one," he urges, his words punctuated by a gravelly whine and the faint, sloppy friction of skin against skin on the other side of the phone. 
Your face ignites. While you’re not the brightest bulb, it’s not hard figuring out what he’s doing while talking to you. 
A wave of sickness threatens to overwhelm you but you quell it.
You add a second digit to the first. Your lids quake, a sharp pain rippling through your core at the burning stretch.
You hardly ever touch yourself there, much less with more than one finger.
"It hurts," you sob. "Please…"
Your whimpers only appear to arouse him more, a moan following your admission. 
"Oh…Fuck." You hear him swallow and exhale rapidly. "Keep going. Don’t you dare stop. Play with your clit at the same time."
Letting go of your chest, your other hand creeps between your thighs. Cheeks aflame, you start rubbing your swollen, sensitive nub in circles.
Your breath stutters. Your hips wiggle as your stomach tightens. 
"Rub it harder." You chew on your bottom lip as the lustful pants leaving your throat swell in volume. Disapproval vibrates in Ghostface’s distorted, gravelly voice. "Don’t keep it in. I want to hear you loud and clear, princess."
Reluctantly, you free your lip, allowing every moan and whimper to spill out unchecked. 
Your fingers pump in and out at a faster pace and the wet squelching of your cunt mingles with the shameful sounds rising from your mouth. 
You massage your clit, growing slicker as your vision gets hazy. 
"Remember what I said. What happens if you don’t come, pretty girl."
This incentivizes you to try even harder. 
You play with your pussy with more fervor than before, teasing that tender spot inside you that has your vision sway. 
You can tell how close you are to your pinnacle, the coils in your belly tight and warm tingles swirling at the apex of your thighs. 
The patterns your fingers trace over your sensitive parts turn hectic and desperate. 
"Tell me you can’t wait for my fat cock to ruin your tight little pussy," Ghostface rumbles through the staccato of his uneven, raspy moans. 
Tears adorning your lashes, you repeat his words between strained lungfuls. "I c-can’t wait for your f…fat cock to ruin my little p-pussy, Mr. Ghostface."
His elated laugh cascades across your flesh. 
"Come for me, princess."
The air dwindles in your lungs as your eyes roll back. The dam shatters at once, your legs quaking as waves of pleasure scatter through your lower body. Your body jolts and falls limply on the sheets, your back arching as your climax hits you. 
"Ah, shit," he says. 
The killer’s long, throaty sigh lands in your ears, the sound of him relieving himself strangely making your bundle of nerves pulse. 
"Good girl," he lauds, mirth and lust radiating from his deep timbre.
His choppy breaths mingle with yours through the phone.
As you lie on your side on the bed, the haze clears and a vast well of shame blooms inside you. 
After a few minutes of silence, he laughs again. 
Satisfaction drips from his tone.
"I’m proud of you for playing my little game," he says. "And now, we have our first souvenir together, in 4K."
Your brows knit as you shakily pick up the phone.
"What do you m-mean?"
He doesn’t reply, instead humming softly, "Goodnight, princess."
The call ends as he hangs up. 
Quivering lips bound shut by stupor, you quickly grab your bear and hold him against your chest. You bury yourself under the covers as quiet tears roll down your face. 
You don’t get much sleep if any that night, tossing and turning when you’re not drenching the sheets with the salty streams pouring from your eyes. 
Despite him never entering the room, terror paralyzes you. 
He might as well have, his sinister presence coiled around you and the power he held over you tattooed into your very bones. 
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You bolt awake in the morning, the wild drumming of your heart blaring in your ears.
The first thing you do is rush to collect  your phone. But frustration roars inside you when you realize it died during your fitful sleep. 
Heart in your throat, you scramble in search of your charger. Once you find it in a forgotten corner of your bed, a relieved exhale ripples through your lips. 
Impatient, you groan as you wait for the lightning bolt icon to shift to one percent. The painful sluggishness of it escalates your blood pressure even more. 
You bounce on your bed as your phone takes what seems like eternity and beyond to turn itself on. 
When it finally does, you don't even have to look through your contacts to find Mindy, your best friend appearing in your most recent calls.
You punch the number and chew your nails anxiously. 
Ghastly thoughts lurk about your mind with each lingering, torturous second. 
What if he lied? 
What if he toyed with you for no reason? 
Of course, your roommate picks this opportune moment to knock on the door.
"Hey! Did you lock me out? Open the fucking door!"
Startled, your head snaps up.
"Not now, Vanessa," you yell, herding your focus back to your phone. "Pick up, pick up, pick up…"
You hear your roommate mutter 'bitch' on the other side of the door and kick it one last time before walking away. 
All your calls go to voicemail after a few rings. You lose hope, already picturing the worse. In your sleep-deprived, frazzled brain, the image of your friends’ lifeless forms lying sprawled on the floor is conjured. 
Your gaze fills with tears as you plummet at the end of your bed. 
While the sun’s basking your room in light, your world has never been this dark. 
It’s the pathetic state you remain in as you amble across the hallways later, no cheer in your step as you drag your feet to class. 
Each of your thoughts is asieged by your friends’ fate. Who knows if they even made it through the night, despite your best efforts to comply with Ghostface’s sick demands.
Your dispirited trek comes to a sudden halt as you catch sight of them, strolling to your first class with their arms linked. 
You all but tackle Mindy into a hug after racing down the hallway. 
"Mindy!" you shriek, overwhelmed with emotion at having her in your arms, safe, whole and - most importantly - alive. 
She laughs, both she and Anika casting you a puzzled stare. 
"Wow, is something wrong? Not that I mind random hugs but…"
You punch her in the rib and rear back with a scowl. 
"You didn't answer your phone, dingus! I was worried sick."
Mindy winces in response to your outburst. 
"Ouch. Sorry, mom," she jests, but when she notes the way your eyes fill with tears again, concern invades her features. Her tone softens as she elaborates, "Anika and I were…busy last night, so our phones were on silent."
They share a secret smile, hands twining. Your cheeks warm as understanding dawns over you. 
You approach them and give them a tight hug.
"I…I’m just happy to see you both, that’s all," you mumble between quivering sobs. You take a minute to soak in the fact that they’re okay, that you can feel their beating hearts against your own. 
Your friends are okay. Ghostface kept his promise. 
Despite how humiliated and violated last night made you feel, at least there is one perk…your friends lived through it. 
Anika rubs soothing circles on your back.
"Well, we’re happy to see you too. Always." She tilts her head and studies you. "Wanna grab lunch later? Talk about what’s really going on with you?"
Gulping a pacifying breath, you fall back. You look at both their faces, scrunched in worry. You’re thankful for them…but you can’t talk about last night to anyone. 
In fact, you’d rather toss the whole ordeal into a well of oblivion. You feel dirty enough as it is. Tainted. 
Still, spending time with them is just what you need. 
"I’d love that," you chime, swallowing your tears long enough for them to disappear from view. 
But as soon as they’ve vacated the hallway, the ephemeral mask of cheerfulness you donned before crumbles. 
You shrink into a mess of tears in a dusky corner of the faculty, hiding behind a set of stairs no one ever uses. 
"I have tissues if you want. I have t-three tissues."
"Ethan?" Your mouth parts as Ethan’s staggering presence crowds your vision. He’s crouched in front of you, that same lopsided, bashful smile he had at the party decorating his lips. Sun beams hit his dark curls, highlighting the russet and chestnut hues of his thick mane. 
You slowly blink, noticing his outstretched hand and the tissues in it. 
You accept them gracefully and dab your eyes with one. 
"Hey." He sits next to you under the stairs and leans against the wall. "Wanna talk about it?"
You sniffle and shake your head in response. 
Ethan nods in acknoledgement. You appreciate that he doesn’t push, settling for sitting with you as you cry in your hand.
"Okay," he says when your weeping alleviates. "Then, maybe we can go to a café and study? Since you’ve missed our first session anyway."
Embarrassment surges inside you. Right. You and Ethan agreed to meet at the library two days ago. 
You were caught amidst your guilt spiral regarding Connor’s death at the time. 
You squeeze his arm and bunch your lips apologetically. 
"I’m so sorry, Ethan. It totally slipped my mind."
He waves a dismissive hand in the air. 
"It’s okay. You were dealing with a lot. I get it."
Deflating, you release his bicep and sigh. 
"Still, that’s not okay. You were so nice to offer."
"Don’t worry about it. Besides, I’ve got time now," he informs.
Hugging your knees, you flash him a hollow smile. 
"Thank you. You're a really good friend." You grimace. "I'm sorry Chad and Mindy gave you such a hard time the other day."
He gives a nonchalant shrug. 
"It's okay. Could be anyone, right?" He pauses, scrutinizing your face. "Even me."
This draws the first genuine laugh of the week from you.
Ethan being Ghostface? The mere idea is ludicrous. 
There is an ocean of differences between the monster who coerced you into doing dirty things last night and the sweet boy who handed you tissues today. 
They could never be the same person. That’s silly. 
"I’d find that very hard to believe," you say between watery chuckles. 
The only reply you get from Ethan is a wide, tight-lipped smile as he slants his head sideways, his gaze lighting up as it runs over you. 
~
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wreckedandpolemic · 2 months
Text
she's got a boyfriend anyway - matty healy
part iv - got him on the phone
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(mdni) the obligatory call me when you're bored fic, alternatively titled does he take care of you?
Michael is grunting on top of you, sweaty and panting. Your eyes are screwed tightly shut as you moan fakely, dead still except for the mattress bouncing in time with his weak thrusts. You slide a hand between your legs and circle your clit, gasping when you finally get a burst of pleasure. Then, Michael pulls your hand away.
“You’re gonna come on my cock, baby,” he insists, and you swallow a disappointed groan. He has this complex about making you come all by himself, as if he’s less of a man if you play with your clit a little. Just a few more days, you tell yourself. Then he’ll go home and you can break up from a safe distance.
Your fabricated moans come out robotically, your hips rocking in an attempt to feel any real pleasure. Matty would never fuck you like this; Matty knows how to make you come, and, crucially, he likes it. You imagine him on top of you instead, fucking you into the mattress; his hips meeting yours in that sweetly desperate way; his calloused fingers playing with your clit, making you squirm with pleasure. His name springs to your lips, and you bite down hard to keep it from escaping.
“Are you close, baby?” Michael moans in your ear, snapping you back to the present moment.
“Yeah,” you reply, voice thick and breathy and utterly fake. He brings a hand down to your cunt and you wonder if this will be the time he finally gets it right, the barest brush over your clit hitching your breath. Then he drags it further down, rubbing futilely at your folds, and you resign yourself back to your artificial whining.
Minutes later, your performed orgasm already faded to the back of your mind, Michael rolls off you and throws away the condom. A shudder runs through you as you remember letting Matty fuck you raw, how all-consuming your need for him was that night, that you’ve longed for him every time Michael has put his hands on you in the days since. You burrow back into your sheets, squeezing your eyes shut against the stab of guilt as Michael speaks. 
“Gonna run to Tesco and grab some bits. You need anything?” he asks, smiling that sweet, gentle smile that makes you remember why you fell for him in the first place. God, you’re going to Hell.
You shake your head, blinking sleepily up at him. “No, thanks. You know where you’re going?” you ask, praying he won’t ask you to come with him. He hasn’t noticed, yet, that you’ve been avoiding him as much as physically possible in your two-bedroom house, always engrossed in your phone, or with your nose in a book, or dragging him to meet your friends. If you’re forced to sit with the weight of your sins for too long, you know your house of cards is going to come tumbling down.
He nods, pressing a soft kiss to your temple that aches in your chest. You don’t deserve him, his kindness, his care; your heart is callous, traitorous. Worst of all, even now, it yearns for Matty. The door clicks shut as you grapple with your scruples, your moral compass spinning out of control. It’s almost like your guilt is tethered to him, fading to a faint hum and then falling completely silent when your front door swings closed.
There’s a buzzing under your skin, your body pleading pathetically for the pleasure it was denied, your organs a knotted mess of desire and shame. You can’t keep up the pretence of righteousness for long, can't lie to yourself the way you lie to Michael. Your hands are sure and steady as you dial Matty’s number.
“Hello?” He sounds bleary, sleep-addled. It’s 12pm; practically sunup for him. Closing your eyes, you can almost cast yourself curled up in bed with him, his body warm against yours, his lips soft at your neck.
“Hi,” you begin, biting your lip. “I was just thinking about you…” You trail off, waiting for Matty to pick up his cue. This time, you aren’t going to let him force you into the role of the temptress — you called, the sin is already committed. You just have to let him run with it.
Something rustles on the other end of the line, probably him shuffling around in bed. “Is that so?” he says, and you can practically hear his teasing grin.
“Hard not to, when it’s the only way I can get wet for him.” 
“Did you come?” he asks, and you snort. As fucking if. The reminder that Michael has never once made you come, never once asked how to make you feel good, assuages some of your guilt.
“Got bored about halfway through, started thrashing and wailing like a crazy person so he’d get it over with.” You roll your eyes and Matty cackles.
“You want me to come over? Get you there properly?” he asks, and it’s oh-so-tempting, but ultimately not worth the risk. Michael isn’t going to be gone that long, and getting caught would be… less than ideal.
You sigh, rolling onto your back. “Nah. Not a good idea, probably.”
He snorts. “Never stopped us before,” he says, his smirk practically audible.
“Do you wanna help me get off or not?” you snap, but there’s no heat in your words. A deep sigh slips from your lips and you brush your fingers down your body, resting your hand against your lower belly, desperately close to where you need it.
You hear a zipper slide down and stifle a laugh; you can picture him flawlessly, passed out in last night’s clothes, face pressed against the pillow, digging sleep-marks into his face. “Whatever you want, princess,” he murmurs. “How do you feel?”
“Needy,” you whine, pouting at your phone. “Wanna touch,” you add, desire pulsing thickly under your skin.
Matty’s answering chuckle is soft, indulgent. “Go on, angel. Do it just like you showed me.” You obey, heat flooding your body as images of that night swim in your vision, Matty’s gaze heavy on you as his cock disappears into his fist, his tongue skilled and sure between your thighs.
A whine slips from your lips as you rub slow circles into your clit, your phone thudding on your pillow as you pinch your nipple with your other hand. Matty groans, the slick sound of his hand working over his cock tinny over the speaker. “Fuck, want you so bad,” you breathe, heat smouldering between your legs. “Need you,” you choke out, hips grinding down against your hand.
“I’m there,” he answers. “I’m right there with you, princess. Tell me what you need.” His voice is low, weaved through with desire, his words punctuated with his familiar, soft moans.
You dip a finger inside yourself, the faint stretch heavenly between your thighs. “Need you to fuck me,” you gasp, eyes rolling back in your head as you imagine it; your fingers become his, rough and calloused and fucking into you exactly how you want. “Want your cock, Matty, wan’ it s’bad, please.” Your words come out slurred through the haze of pleasure enveloping you, Matty’s rhythmic groans dragging you higher.
“Begging so pretty for me,” he coos. “Miss that pretty cunt so bad, darling. Wanna get my mouth on you again, feel you cumming around my tongue. Miss your taste, princess.”
Thighs clenching, you whimper, the phantasm of his tongue delving between your thighs and lapping at you skilfully as you writhe under the tide of heat that rolls over you. “Want you to fuck me stupid,” you breathe. “Wanna forget everything except you,” you gasp, the admission falling unbidden from your lips, the truth in your words frantic and inescapable.
Matty chokes on a breath, groaning on the exhale. “Fuck, darling, you’re making it so hard not to come over there and fuck your lights out. Need to feel you coming on my cock so fucking bad.”
Reckless desire swirls through you, the protestations of your rational brain muted and fading against the flames licking their way up your body. You’re lost in it, the devil himself kissing at your thighs as you sin and sin and sin. “So come.”
His breathing hitches. “Are you being serious?” he asks, and you hear his hand still as he turns your words over in his mind.
“Yeah. Fuck it. Fuck all of them.” The words come easily, not weighted by some arbitrarily ascribed idea of morality; the truth you can’t delude yourself over any longer.
“God, angel,” he murmurs, voice trembling, thick with an emotion you couldn’t have named before today — one you have to bite back so it doesn’t spill from your lips at this inopportune moment. “So fucking perfect. You feeling good?”
“So good, Matty, fuck,” you say, fucking yourself on your fingers in a sweet, glorious rhythm. “Wish you were touching me,” you whine, hips rolling against your hand as Matty resumes his own motions. “Wanna suck your dick. Want you to make me choke on it.”
His answering moan is obscene, half your name and half a garbled noise of pure desire. “Such a good little slut for me. Want me to fuck your mouth, yeah?” You whine desperately. “God, you’d look so gorgeous like that, all pretty on your knees and drooling for me. Thought about that for so fucking long, princess.”
Your cunt clenches around your fingers, your head so hazy with bliss that you can barely force out the words, “Want you.”
Matty laughs fondly. “Then cum for me, darling. Cum for me and I’ll come over there and give you what you need, I promise,” he swears, voice gravelly through his moans.
“‘M close, ‘m so close, wanna cum for you, Matty, please, fuck,” you babble, incoherent and dazed as ecstasy pools in your belly, buzzing gorgeously through your limbs. The flimsy thread tying you to your sanity suddenly snaps, your stomach lurching as you’re plunged into bone-deep pleasure. A string of obscenities falls from your lips, twined around sticky moans and near-pained whines, your flesh melting off your bones, glueing you in place as euphoria rolls achingly over you.
Matty groans your name as he cums, the picture of him spilling into his fist vivid and rapturous behind your eyelids. You lay in silence for a few moments, letting the aftershocks subsite. “I meant it,” Matty says, cutting through the quiet with uncharacteristic seriousness.
“Me too,” you say instantly. There isn’t even the barest shadow of doubt in your mind. You hardly remember that Michael exists, let alone why you should care. “I want you, Matty. For real. I think…” you bite back the confession, too raw to give through your sketchy connection. “I think you should come over here and let me have you,” you breathe, low and teasing.
The grin in his voice is audible. “Don’t move, princess,” he orders. “Don’t even get dressed. I want you to keep playing with yourself, okay, darling? Keep yourself all pretty and wet for me, yeah?”
Your thighs clench, fire licking at you, stoked by his words. You’re ruined, have been since you set foot back in this town. Matty is the snake, his mouth the poisoned fruit, the temptation luring you into damnation. But as the flames kiss at your skin, you wonder if getting there might just be worth the price. “Yeah, okay,” you murmur, sucking in a sharp breath as your finger brushes over your sensitive clit, your hand coming up soaked with desire. “Hurry.”
“Darling, the devil himself couldn’t keep me away.”
You wonder if it’s a sign that the devil is wandering the plains of his thoughts too. But you’ve never been one for omens, so you let the quiet creep of bliss take over, the buzzing in your brain drowning out the beep of the dial tone. Anticipation creeps up your spine, slow and teasing.
Then, there’s a knock at your front door.
Shit.
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erenstshirt · 4 months
Text
Is It Me? Ft. Suguru Geto
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Since Nurse Suguru is trending, I can finally put this for good use after having it in my gallery for so long😭
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You wake up groggy, unable to get your eyes to focus on any part of your surroundings. Not that you had to, everything around you seemed white and sterile, devoid of warmth. “Y/n? Are you awake?” You hear a voice to your left, but you can barely move your head, let alone make out the person's voice.
What happened? The last thing you remember is arriving from your last class for the day and heading home, and then nothing. You can't force yourself to dig deeper because as soon as you try getting the gears in your head to turn, a thundering pain shoots up your temples.
You groan, hands weakly fisting the thin blanket you're covered with. It's cold. You're trembling. Everything hurts. The bed doesn't feel comfortable nor familiar. Again, you wonder, what the hell happened? Then you're free-falling back into darkness.
“It's normal, her body is exhausted, and she needs all the rest she can take. It's better for her to stay here for a few days,” Here? Here where? Whose voice is that? It's husky and soft, like a lullaby.
You set your weight on your hands as you slowly lift yourself up, eyes slowly adjusting to the lights. The room is dimly lit now, and your eyes finally zoom into focus. The first thing you see is dark hair. A lot of it. Half of it in a bun, and the rest cascading down his broad shoulders and lower to the middle of his back.
“Y/n! Thank God,” your friend exhales, leaving the doctor and rushing to your side. “How are you feeling?” She asks, curling her fingers into your half closed hand. “What happened?” You ask her, looking from her to the man who's now facing you. The gorgeous man, in fact. His face is pretty and calm, fox eyes making your face heat up.
“I'll go get you some water, and then I'll tell you,” she says, patting your shoulder as she stands and leaves the room. The pretty man approaches you, and you feel your heart pick up pace, and so makes the sound of a machine near you.
You look to your side, noticing a heart rate monitor next to your bed. The man before you chuckles as he approaches your side with a clipboard in his hand. He cocks an eyebrow at the machine beside you, then shifts his light brown eyes to look at you.
“Is it me?” He asks in a soft tone, and you feel your insides turn mush. He doesn't even have to wait for your answer because the color of your face and tips of your ears, as well as the beeping of the machine, do the job.
“Cute,” he quips, before writing down a few things. “You might need to stay here for at least a day, just so we can make sure everything is under control, then you can leave.” He informs you, before filling you in about all you need to know.
“I'll come back in a bit, alright?” You blush again, like a little girl swooned by a boy for the first time. “Alright,” you answer, already impatient for the next time. His Name's Suguru. Suguru Geto. He's working an internship for his last university year.
He's also pretty, charming, and witty. You must shut your brain off about him and rest. You probably won't see him again after you leave. Speaking of, you wonder why you suddenly got the intense fever. According to your friend, it apparently got so bad, your eyes were pure white as you kept gasping “I'm cold, but it's hot. It's cold. It's so hot,” as sweat coated your trembling body.
You sigh, looking outside the window at the garden below and thinking of the most handsome doctor-in-the-making that you've laid your eyes on. Probably the most handsome in general, too.
After convincing your mom and friend that you can manage the night alone, you sit and munch absentmindedly on the gummies they got you. Setting the bag down, you grab the IV drip and start heading to the bathroom, setting the tube of the heart monitor machine aside.
It suddenly feels funny, how the bathroom messes with you, swaying from left to right, forcing you to try and catch up to it to no avail. What the hell? Why is the wall grooving? Your head is so heavy, like someone has put a pile of books on top of it.
“Y/n?” You hear a muffled voice to your right, like it's coming from underwater. You try, you really try to turn your head towards the voice, but your body solidifies itself completely. Someone is dropping ice inside the baggy hospital robe, and another one is throwing scorching water on your shaking body.
The last thing you feel is a warm and hard body grabbing you before you spiral down the obsidian tunnel again. “Shit. I got you, sweetheart.” Suguru whispers, as though you can hear him.
He holds you up and cradles you to his body as he walks you carefully back to bed before calling for some nurses nearby.
                                        ◇◇◇
After a long week at the sickening hospital, with the sterile smell of alcohol and depressing colors, you're back home. The only thing you're surely going to miss is the nihilistic smile of Suguru. And, of course, Suguru himself.
You involuntarily bite your lip as you recall every interaction with him over again. That damn heart monitor just had to expose you every time he threw a flirty comment at you. Your phone dings, startling you out of your daydream.
You feel the dreamy thought bubble dissipate from above your head as you sigh and grab your phone from your back pocket. An unknown number. You frown, but it's quickly replaced with surprised eyebrows as you read the text.
“Hey pretty girl. I hope you're feeling better :)” your heart skips a beat as you tip toe and squeal where you're standing. Okay, okay, you need to reply. What should you say…? Oh my God. Wait. “How did you get my number?” You send, and wait with ill patience for a reply.
“Oh, nvm" you then send, remembering the papers you filled before leaving. “Smart girl,” a text rolls in, and the butterflies in your stomach roll out. “It's cute when you blush,” he then sends, and your hand flies to your face.
You look around, the campus too wide for you to be able to tell if someone's watching.
“I'm not blushing.”
“Sure you're not”
“Am not. What, you got a heart monitor on me or something?”
“I don't need a heart monitor for that,” a cool voice says in your ear, making every hair on your head stand like proud soldiers. “Oh my God, you scared me,” you sigh, turning to look at him.
“You didn't tell me you're at the same university as me, princess.” Your heart warms, but you keep your head high and steady. “Why would I?” You quirk an eyebrow, noticing his tongue dart out to lick his bottom lip before tucking back in. “Touche,” he says, putting his hands in his baggy sweats.
You're even more aware of him, his heavy presence and dizzying scent that you try to subtly inhale, wanting to bottle it up in your nostrils forever. “May I take you out tonight?” You feel the world go still, and the earth almost stops spinning.
“You might have to be more specific,” you pinch, noticing a smirk forming on his delectable lips. “I'm a bit slow,” you add in a whisper. Suguru thinks you're even more beautiful. The sun dances around the irises of your eyes, and the damn lucky wind runs through your pretty hair. You're smiling, and you look kissable, and he's never seen a prettier smile.
He wants to swallow your smile and the sound of your voice and the laugh lines that form on your sweet face. “You're beautiful,” he says unconsciously, like his thoughts are a balloon bursting from excessive water.
“I'm…thank you, Suguru.” He thanks the heavens there's no heart monitor attached to him right now because even without it, he can hear the thrumming of his heart at the sound of his name from your mouth.
“It's cute when you blush,” you bite his words back at him, making him falter. “You should hear my heart,” he surprises you with his answer, but you're quick with a reply. “May I?” Your eyes peer at him innocently, it makes his blood sear hot in his veins.
“Yeah,” his voice is raspy, hands trembling at his sides as you inch closer, your scent invading his senses deliciously. Your delicate hand rests on his chest, and you press your ear to his body. His whole body is on fire, and he can feel the heat radiating off from you just as much.
He gives in. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, shamelessly taking in the smell of your shampoo. “You smell so good,” your breath is heavy, and so is your tongue. “Your heart…it's beating so fast,” you tell him, as if he doesn't know that already. “Is it me?” You tease.
“Yeah,” he exhales, his breath as heavy as someone who has been running for a good fifteen minutes. “That's your fault, sweetheart. Take responsibility.” You look up at him, only thin rings of caramel surrounding his dilated pupils now. “How?” Your voice is merely a dot over a whisper. Suguru can't help it. He weaves one hand into your hair, the other cupping the side of your neck delicately.
“Let me take you out tonight,” you simply nod because there's nothing you can do but nod and let your eyes remain lost between his eyes and his lips, back and forth. “And then what?” You ask, watching his Adam's apple bob as he gulps deeply.
“Then…I'll drive you back home.” He goes on. “Right to your doorstep.” You shiver. “Then?” You keep climbing, you can't stop. You're too curious now. “Then I'll leave because I'm a gentleman.” He responds, and you smile despite yourself.
“And if I don't want you to be?” His breath fans on your lips, and you're dying to get a taste of him. “I'll kiss you. I'll have you pinned on the door, nestled between my arms as I kiss the breath out of you.” The torture ends, his lips enveloping yours as if you've both been starving for an eternity.
He kisses you like you're so precious, he can barely contain your being so close to him. You're both suffocating and liberated all the while, and you kiss each other until oxygen becomes ash.
“You're awfully trembling,” he snickers. “So are you,” you challenge. “Is it me?” You both say, before your laughs fill the air.
“Seven pm.” You say, knowing he can get your address just as easily as he got your number, before you move away and start walking, eyes never leaving his.
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Text
puppy love (iii)
Chuuya Nakahara x Reader
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fandom: bungo stray dogs
I didn't mean for this to be so long. I'm so sorry. I just really like writing about Chuuya interacting with dogs. Again I apologize (but I hope you enjoy)! (And the panel comes from the manga Kimi ni Todoke!)
warnings: fem reader, pet names (doll, lady, etc.), mentions of pet abandonment in the past, mentions of stray dogs, slight angst towards the end, a bit of mutual pining (but they don't know it yet bc they're kinda dumb) || words: 5.5k
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV
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Chuuya has never known himself to be nervous.
Wary? Sure. Itching to get something over with? Absolutely. Pissed off beyond all belief? Of fucking course—he’s put up with Dazai for all these years, hasn’t he?
But he’s never felt quite like this. Standing in front of the shabby little shop you call home, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, fingers twitching in his pockets—not to mention the swarm of butterflies that’s taken refuge in the depths of his stomach. His throat is unnaturally dry, beads of sweat gathering at his forehead.
Why the fuck is he so damn nervous?
He has no reason to be. He knows no danger lies beyond that door, none whatsoever. And even if there was a fight waiting for him, he’d come out on top in two seconds flat.
Nothing to worry about. It’s just you and those dogs you keep yammering on about.
(Maybe that’s why he’s so worried.)
He shakes his head and knocks on the door. You’ve already turned the lights down, placed the closed sign right there in the window, and yet he can hear you scurrying on the other side of the door. A few seconds later it swings open, and the sight of your smile immediately puts him at ease.
“I’m so glad you could make it!”
He steps inside as you shut the door behind him. One of the lights flicker on, bathing the room in a warm golden glow.
This is the first time he’s actually seen your shop, and he’s pleased to find it looks much more comfy than the outside. A bit small in size, but the selection of pet supplies is plenty enough to brag about. Different brands of dog and cat food, assortments of leashes and collars in all kinds of colors, rows of dog toys and treats lining the counters. The floors are clean, the blinds are shut, and everything seems to be in order.
But not a single pup in sight.
“You want anything to drink?” You’re already motioning him to follow you behind the counter, towards the back of the store. “It’s alright, I’m the only one here. I won’t tell anyone,” you add with a wink.
Fuck, more annoying butterflies.
“That’s fine, I’m alright.” He sheds his overcoat and hangs it on one of the hooks by the door, but leaves the hat perched on his head. Luckily you don’t question it.
“They’re in the back, follow me.”
There’s a spring in your step as you lead him through the back hall, through a set of double doors and into what looks like a lounge of some kind. A slightly-worn couch rests by the corner, as well as a table with only a couple chairs to keep it company. But he doesn’t have time to survey the whole room before you disappear through another door, and he picks up the pace just to keep up with you.
Finally you come to a stop, resting a hand on the doorknob and throwing him a smile over your shoulder.
“They’re inside. You ready?”
He swallows the collection of cobwebs in his mouth. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
But you don’t open the door. Don’t even move an inch. You just stare at him with those big eyes, those pretty eyes, as your lips shift into a frown.
“…What?” Did he do something wrong? Did he fuck this up already?
“You don’t have to be nervous, you know.”
“I’m not nervous,” he says a little too quickly, and he bites back a groan when you give him a knowing smile.
“It’s alright, they can be a lot to handle sometimes. But they’ll love you, I promise! Besides, you’ve met three of them already. The other five are gonna be all over you when they see you!”
Two, he corrects you internally. He’s met two of them so far, the third one keeps his distance and fucking glares at him. Hardly a win in his book. Are any of the others like that? Or is it just that one who’s got a stick up his ass?
No, don’t be like that. It’s not the dog’s fault it doesn’t like people; hell, Chuuya himself doesn’t even like people all that much. The nerves are just making him feel on edge.
Fuck it, he’s not nervous!
“They won’t bite,” you add with a laugh, but he still remains locked in his spot behind you. So you hold out a hand and tilt your head, reminding him of the night he first met you. So much like that one dog you have, the shiba pup. “They love meeting new people. And if Kotaro already loves you”—oh yeah, that’s the shiba’s name—“then the others are sure to follow his lead.”
The way you’re looking at him, a gentle look in your eyes, hand outstretched hopefully in his direction…
It’s no big deal. It’s just a bunch of dogs. He loves dogs, right? Never met a dog he didn’t like! They just happen to belong to you, and you’ve…just got a lot of them. Nothing too major, he’s dealt with much worse in his life.
But that’s just it. They’re your dogs, not just stray animals he crosses paths with on the street. They mean the absolute world to you, he knows it in the way you talk about them. You show it in the way you clutch Kotaro to your chest, pressing kiss after kiss to his furry head. The way your eyes light up at even the slightest mention of one of your dogs, how you’re so eager to brag about the new trick they learned or what they did at the park earlier that day.
You love them with everything your heart has to offer…and Chuuya just hopes he’s good enough to give them the attention and adoration they deserve.
A heavy sigh passes through his lips; slowly but surely, he places his gloved hand in yours. “No biting?” he asks with a smile.
“No biting, I promise! Told them to be on their best behavior today, too.”
It’s only when he nods that you turn the knob and push the door open. You all but pull him in after you, all smiles and laughter and—
Holy shit, that’s a lot of fucking dogs!
All different breeds rush him at once, Kotaro taking the lead and nearly barreling right into Chuuya’s knee. The beagle follows soon after, accompanied by a corgi. (At least he thinks it’s a corgi.) Two little Chihuahuas are yipping and running circles around his ankles. A dachshund paws at the tip of his shoe before latching her teeth around it.
“Hey, hey, come on! Be nice!”
You clap your hands and wave your arms to shoo them away. Just like clockwork the dogs turn their attention on you, a blur of wagging tails and drool and perked-up ears. You scoop up the pair of Chihuahuas, holding one in each arm, and gently nudge the dachshund away from Chuuya with your leg.
Over your shoulder he can see the last two dogs: the grumpy bulldog he met a few days ago (the one who looks like he hates his guts), and a schnauzer whose tail hasn’t stopped wagging since he walked in the room. There’s a slight limp in the schnauzer’s step; it’s favoring its front left paw, but he can’t see any visible wound on the skin. Placing the twin Chihuahuas down, you give the schnauzer a scratch under its bearded chin before pressing a kiss to its head.
“Sit!”
About half the dogs listen, Kotaro not being one of them. He’s still busy sniffing the area around Chuuya, rubbing against his leg like a cat. You snap your fingers over and over, huffing when the dog blatantly ignores you. Finally you stand up and scoop him up in your arms, placing him down in between the dachshund and the beagle.
“You alright?” Your smile is a bit wobbly. Are you just as nervous as he is?
For some reason the thought quells the storm of butterflies fluttering in his stomach.
“I’m fine, doll. Nothin’ I can’t handle,” he adds with a smirk, and you quickly avert your eyes back down to the dogs.
You sink down to sit on the floor, patting the space beside you. Unfortunately Kotaro takes that as his cue to move—even before Chuuya can settle himself down, he’s wrestling a rowdy shiba pup off his lap.
But when one dog goes, the rest of the pack is sure to follow. And suddenly the two of you are swamped in furry bodies and swishing tails and scrabbling paws. One puppy on your lap, another in your arms, and one nosing at your pocket in hopes of finding a snack or two.
“This one’s Sora,” you say, holding the corgi up to him. Chuuya can’t even speak, too captivated by the pup’s sweet brown eyes. “He’s a cutie, isn’t he? And he’s—oh, hey! I would never forget about you, Ocha, don’t worry!” You reach over to pat the dachshund right between her ears. “This little girl is Ocha. She can get a bit jealous but she’s an absolute sweetheart! Oh! And these two are Yuki and Yui! They’re…the troublemakers of the pack!”
Are those the Chihuahuas? One of them is chomping on your shoelaces, while the other one is pawing at his pant leg. The corgi in his arms lets out a soft whine; immediately he brings it closer, letting it sniff his hand and lick his face.
“This is Haru,” you continue, motioning to the schnauzer. “She’s the newest one here. She’s not scared of humans though, so you can pet her all you like! Just let her approach you first. Oh, and be mindful of her paw, she’s recovering from a broken leg. Poor thing could barely walk when we found her! But she’s healing up so nicely…aren’t you, pretty girl?”
The dog lets out a whine, but it almost sounds happy. Her ears are pressed against her head and her stubby tail’s wagging a mile a minute.
Reaching around the corgi’s head—is it Sora? Sounds about right—he holds out a hand to the schnauzer. The dog, Haru, gives a cautious sniff, balances herself on her good paw, and takes another step closer. You’re practically bouncing in your seat as Haru wags her tail and lets Chuuya pet her.
“Aww, she likes you!”
And thank fuck for that; there’s nothing more depressing than a dog that doesn’t like you.
Like that one—he gives the bulldog a sideways glance, and the dog huffs and turns his head.
The beagle nearly trips over his own paws trying to reach Chuuya’s face. The tiny Chihuahua chewing on your shoelaces manages to untie them, and you scramble to grab the string from its mouth with a shriek.
Kotaro, Pochi, Sora… Haru, right?
Something nudges his elbow. It’s the little dachshund, staring up at him with big brown eyes, clutching a small stuffed toy in her mouth. She nudges him again, giving a whine and shaking her whole backside in the air.
“What is it, huh?” Fuck, what’s that one’s name again? “You wanna play, is that it?”
The dog yips and bats him with her paw. But when he grabs at the toy, she gives a hard tug and nearly rips the damn thing right out of his grasp.
“I can’t throw it if you don’t give it to me!”
She doesn’t give up, and neither does he. You laugh at the awkward tug of war between the two, all the while Sora is curled up in Chuuya’s other arm. One of the Chihuahuas crawls into his lap, throwing off his balance just enough for the dachshund to wrench the toy out of his hand.
“Hey, wait—”
It’s a three-way assault: Kotaro plants his paws right on his shoulders, Sora leans up to lick his face, and the dachshund—Ocha, that’s it!—practically throws herself right into his lap, all but knocking the poor Chihuahua out of the way. The poor pup tumbles to the floor, but you’re quick to scoop him up before he can whine.
“Sorry, Yuki,” you manage through your laughter, “Ocha didn’t mean it, I promise. …And sorry, Chuuya! Usually they’re not this rowdy!”
But he finds himself laughing along with you—of course, you apologize to the dog first—even when Kotaro’s weight knocks him over onto the floor. He’s on his back know, knees bent with the beagle ducking beneath them, and the tiny corgi curled up on his chest. Kotaro’s wet nose is pressed against his cheek, Ocha’s paw nudging his shoulder, and oh shit, now the schnauzer’s in on the fun—
“Come on, guys, let him breathe for a bit!” Your voice reaches him through the mess of fur and paws; he sees your hand snake around the dachshund’s body to pull her away. “No doggy pile today!”
Not that he has a problem with that. If this is what you have to deal with every day, living with all these dogs doesn’t seem like such a bad thing.
“Get over here, you little—”
He rolls over, propping himself on his hands and knees, still supporting the corgi against his chest. Kotaro barks and shakes his bottom in the air; the silly look on his face just screams “play with me, damn it!”
Pochi plants his paws onto his shoulders, while Ocha ambushes him from the front. Despite favoring her paw, Haru is quick to chime in with a yip and plants a sweet kiss right on Chuuya’s cheek.
The smug look on Kotaro’s face says it all: You’re surrounded. Give up already, feeble human!
“Alright, alright, that’s enough!”
You’re on your feet now, shooing the dogs away, cringing at the rumpled fabric of Chuuya’s pristine jacket and vest. The flecks of dog hair sprinkled along his dress pants. Not to mention the trails of drool and doggy slobber on his face—
“Come on, be nice.” You slide Pochi out of the way and gently pick up Haru in your arms. Chuuya catches the bulldog glaring at him from across the room; the little shit hasn’t even moved in the last ten minutes or so. “Give him some space, Kotaro!”
Chuuya manages to lift himself to his knees. The little corgi in his arms lifts his head and kisses his chin, his stubby little tail thumping against his hand. A laugh bubbles up in his throat.
“Lovable little shit, ain’t he?”
“Yeah, Sora’s a cuddle bug when he wants to be!” Once the dogs give you some space, you hold out a hand to help him up. “He’s also a sleepy little guy. Gets random bursts of energy but he’s always the first to fall asleep.”
His gloved hand slides against your own, and you pull him to his feet with a grunt. Immediately Haru and Ocha start whining and pawing at his pant leg. Batting their eyes at Sora, all snuggled up against the man’s chest.
“Are they usually just clingy, or is it just me?” he asks with a smile, and you giggle behind your hands.
“Must be you! They’re friendly, but never that friendly to people they’ve just met… They must really like you a lot.”
(Maybe it’s his roguish charm and handsome features. If so, you can’t really blame them.)
“Anyway, looks like they’ve settled down a bit.” He glances at the two pups nestled in your arms; the twin Chihuahuas are already fast asleep, snoring softly with their heads against your chest. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the shop.”
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The “rest of the shop” isn’t really part of the shop at all; Chuuya learns quickly that it’s just the half-finished room where the dogs live, with the stairs leading up to your apartment just off to the side. He stops himself before he can wonder what’s up there, though.
Not the kind of thoughts he should be having about someone he’s only just yet. And about a lady, no less.
And now the dogs are safe and sound, sprawled out in their individual beds and tucked away for the night. The Chihuahuas sleep in a tiny bed between a mess of blankets, with a dozing Pochi and Ocha on either side of them. Sora is curled up into Haru’s side; when his paw twitches gently, Chuuya thinks he can feel his chest get all warm and fuzzy.
So fucking adorable, aren’t they?
The only ones still awake are Kotaro (who’s made his home at his feet, for some unknown reason), and Shiro, who’s planted his ass firmly on your shoes. Still glaring at him with his bottom teeth jutting out, only wagging his tail when you reach down to pet him.
The two of you are leaning against the counter, side by side, holding a pair of mugs in your hands. Might be too late in the night for it, but holy shit do you make a great cup of coffee.
“I’m glad you think so,” you chuckle, careful to keep your voice low. Don’t wanna wake the babies, right? “I don’t really like it, I kinda have to drink it for these little guys, though. Keeps me going the entire day!”
He looks at you then, really looks at you as you take another sip of your drink. Your frazzled hair, the bags under your eyes, the slight heave in your chest—and the familiar warm glow in your eyes as they sweep over the eight resting dogs.
Running a shop, catering to customers, taking care of eight individual dogs, all with different personalities and needs of their own… No wonder you look so drained. You look like you could sleep for a week straight, and then some with that look in your eye.
He clears his throat and averts his gaze before you can catch him. “You said she’s the newest one, right?” He motions to Haru with a hand, snickering as she snuggles deeper into her little makeshift bed. “How long have you had her?”
“Only a couple weeks.” You place your mug down and sweep a hand through your hair. “We found her wandering around the streets one night—well, Kotaro found her, really. Poor girl was digging through the trash and limping so badly! We took her to the vet right away, fixed up her leg so she could walk again. She had a collar but when we tried calling the owners there was no answer.”
Your hands suddenly curl around the edge of the counter. Nails biting into the surface, teeth clenched and eyes wild with fire. Chuuya stops himself from reaching out to you, instead tightening his grip on his mug and taking another sip.
“They wouldn’t answer our calls, and when the vet stopped by their place he realized they’d moved… Didn’t even have the sense to bring her to a shelter first. Just up and left her, like she didn’t even matter.”
Such a sweet dog, so kind and gentle, with her favored paw resting so nicely on the blankets… Little puffs of air escaping through her nose, brushing against the corgi’s fluffy head.
And suddenly he wants to shatter the mug in his hand. The thought of leaving a mess on your floor is enough to keep him at bay, but the white-hot fury is still blazing through his veins.
How could someone treat such an innocent animal like that?
He wouldn’t have guessed it, with how friendly she had been with him earlier. Eager to play and get to know him, licking at his face and wagging her cute little tail. And extremely loyal from what he’s seen so far, with the way she looks at you and responds to your voice. What kind of dumbass would let go of such a perfect companion?
“…Are they all street dogs?” His voice is strained, but his eyes are gentle when they meet your own. “Abandoned, I mean?”
“No, not all of them. This one,” you lean down to rub Shiro’s chest, “I knew his old owner. He was moving away and he couldn’t take Shiro with him. He used to work at the shop, that’s why he asked me. Sometimes I think he still misses him.”
That explains why the dog’s such a hard-ass. But he can’t find it in himself to blame him. Chuuya knows a thing or two about losing people he cares about.
“Pochi and Sora were hanging around the shop before I took them in. At first I thought they were cats, but then I heard barking one night and knew I had to bring them in.” That familiar smile is back on your face as you gush about your puppies. “Ocha? I found her while coming home from a friend’s house, in a thunderstorm of all things! Now she doesn’t like storms, but show me a dog that does!”
You slide your mug further away before lifting yourself onto the edge. Only when you pat the space beside you does Chuuya do the same, careful not to spill what little coffee he has left in his own mug.
“The twins, Yuki and Yui,” you point to the tiny Chihuahuas in the center, “…I don’t know where they came from, honestly. I just opened the door one day and they were there. Right on the doorstep, practically newborn, no note or anything. I don’t even know what happened to their mother.”
Shiro yawns and settles down at the base of the counter, his legs sprawled out in front of him. Meanwhile Kotaro turns his attention to Chuuya, whining until the man caves in and scratches behind his ear.
“What about this one?”
“Oh, Kotaro? Former shelter dog, the last one to be adopted before they closed down! No one else wanted to deal with his little troublesome ass, so I volunteered.”
And the smug little shit looks so proud of himself, too. Tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, tail swishing from side to side, stirring up the mess of dog hair already on the floor.
A comfortable silence settles over the two of you. The dogs are sleeping, Kotaro’s relishing in all the extra attention, and for once, the bulldog Shiro isn’t even growling at him. Eventually he finishes off his coffee, and you’re quick to take it to rinse it in the sink with your own.
“Hey, Chuuya? Can I ask you something real quick?”
He glances up from Kotaro for a split second. It’s easier to pet him from the ground rather than the counter, so he hops off and kneels down to the dog’s level. His gloves are gonna be covered in dog fur once he’s done.
“What is it?”
Another bout of silence. Your back is turned to him, still hunched over the sink, despite the mugs already drying in the rack next to it. Kotaro paws at his knee, silently begging for another round of pats.
“…You’re part of the Port Mafia, aren’t you?”
Every nerve in his body screams at him to run. No, to fight. Fight and fucking win, just as he’s always had to do. Eliminate the threat. Prove your strength.
It’s like a switch goes off in his brain. But he’s not the only one; Shiro’s head lifts off the ground at lightning speed, his lip curled to show more than just that row of bottom teeth. Kotaro stiffens as soon as Chuuya’s hand retreats, his huge eyes boring right through him.
You’re still glued to your spot at the sink, not even daring to move an inch.
The message is clear from the dogs. Touch her and you die.
He swallows the mess of cobwebs in his throat as he slowly rises to his feet. Kotaro and Shiro keep their eyes trained on him; out of the corner of his eye, he can see Pochi and Ocha stirring awake, too.
Insanely loyal dogs, aren’t they?
“…It’s alright if you are,” you spit out, still staring at the sink in front of you. “I promise I won’t tell anyone! It’s just… I’ve, ah, been wondering about it…for a few days now, and I just thought…”
The sigh he lets out sends a shiver down your spine. He’s careful as he makes his way towards you, and for some reason, Shiro lets him without taking a chunk out of his leg.
“…How’d you find out?”
He’s trying not to sound intimidating. He’s not angry, far from it actually. He knows you and your little pack of pups is no real threat to the mafia. (Although, the image of you storming HQ with a band of street dogs is strangely entertaining to him.) Sooner or later, you would have questions of your own about him. He just didn’t think it would be this soon.
But that horrible feeling from earlier is fluttering around in his chest. The same one that makes his palms slick with sweat inside his gloves, the one that sends his heart smashing against his ribcage.
Is he ashamed? Absolutely not; the mafia has always been a part of him, and it always will be until the day he dies.
Maybe the thought of you running away, too scared of what he is—and taking your little pack with you—is sending him in such a frenzy.
“I’ve…had my suspicions,” you start quietly. Slowly you turn around, keeping your back against the sink. Chuuya stands a few feet away from you, forcing his hands back into his pockets. “For a couple days, now. Maybe even more… I just wanted to be sure before I started suspecting anything…”
Dangerous? He fills in the blank with a swallow.
“…’M not gonna hurt you, ya know.”
“I know! I know… Believe it or not, I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with the mafia. This isn’t exactly a nice area of Yokohama to begin with.”
That raises the hair on the back of his neck. Who did you come across? Surely someone like Akutagawa or Tachihara couldn’t be bothered with a simple pet shop owner. A simple grunt then, perhaps? He can’t imagine why they would make themselves known to an innocent civilian like you.
Did they threaten you? Were you caught in the crossfire? Thrown in the middle of a turf war? Every possibility sends another wave of heat throughout his body.
“Honestly, it wasn’t that hard to figure out.” There’s an awkward chuckle on your end. “I only ever see you at night. You’re rich as hell, I can tell by the way you carry yourself. Only one kind of job around here could get you that kind of outfit, and all those fancy wines you like to talk about. Oh, and you kinda dress like a stereotypical mafioso, too… Not that it’s a bad thing!” you add quickly, holding up your hands. “I like it! Makes you look…good, I guess? No, not just good… Maybe handsome? Ah, I-I mean—”
You stumble over your words, burying your face in your hands when none of them come out right. That’s when Kotaro trots over to you, circling your feet before taking a seat right in front of you. Shiro stays right in his spot, eyes glued on Chuuya…but at least he’s not growling at him anymore.
Chuuya blinks. And then blinks again.
…You think he’s handsome?
He clears his throat—no time to get all distracted over a few simple words from a pretty girl. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, doll. I promise, the Port Mafia wants nothing to do with your little…pack of dogs.”
But he does.
As horrible as it sounds, he wants everything to do with you and your little family of puppies.
“It’s okay.” You wrap your arms around your midsection, finally meeting his eyes with a shaky smile. “It’s just…kind of a lot to take in… Sorry…”
No, he gets it. He could barely believe it himself, after joining the mafia years ago.
“…You ain’t scared?” he asks, despite his gut telling him to shut the fuck up already.
But you shake your head, and suddenly he finds himself frowning.
“A bit too trusting, don’t ya think?”
“Maybe.” Your smile becomes a bit stronger now. “But the dogs seem to like you, so that’s enough for me.”
His jaw nearly drops to the floor; he can feel the coffee from earlier swirling around in his stomach.
Are you fucking serious?
“I know it sounds silly, but it’s true!” You must’ve seen the look on his face; you’re starting to look a bit sheepish yourself, but you continue nonetheless. “Dogs have a great sense for this kind of thing. They can tell when a person has good or bad intentions. Pick the rotten apples from the rest of the bunch, you know? And they’re all pretty easy-going around you. So if they’re not scared of you, then I’m not either.”
Well sure, it would make sense if you were a fucking child. But placing all your trust in a bunch of dogs, no matter how loyal and protective it may be… It doesn’t sit right with him.
“You can’t be serious.”
“But I am.”
“What if I hurt you?” Even saying the words out loud make him feel sick. “You really think they would’ve warned you?”
“Yeah, they started growling at you right away, didn’t they?”
“What if it was someone else? Someone other than me?”
“I trust them. I protect them, they protect me.”
“You can’t always be sure of that, doll.”
He’s stepping closer to you, and for whatever reason Kotaro and Shiro allow him to. Until he’s face to face with you, so close you can count the row of freckles splashed across his nose.
But you’re still smiling. In fact, you look more comfortable right now in front of him than you have all night. Almost like you’ve totally forgotten about the whole Port Mafia thing.
“It all comes down to intentions. Believe it or not, they’ve saved my ass a few times before. Especially Shiro; more than once he’s kept a shady person away from me, or pulled me away from a dangerous situation. It sounds weird, but I trust them with my life. Just as they trust me with theirs.”
Words fail him in that moment; he opens his mouth, and they die right there on his tongue. On one hand, what you’re saying does make sense, but it also doesn’t, and he’s not sure which one to believe.
He knew you were close to your dogs. Treated them just as you would your own children. He just didn’t realize you put such a great amount of trust in their hands—well, paws.
Despite their smaller size and friendly natures, they did jump to your defense when they suspected you might be in danger. Shiro and Kotaro standing between you two, a protective barrier of claws and teeth, with Ocha and Pochi standing on guard.
A dog’s love for his human knows no bounds.
“Trust me, if they sensed you had any bad intentions, or wanted to hurt me in any way, they wouldn’t have let you come into the shop like you did. Kotaro wouldn’t have warmed up to you right away. Believe me when I say this, Chuuya, the pups love you.”
He grits his teeth, his gaze falling to the floor between you. “…Not the bulldog.”
Your laugh is a song to his ears, and when you reach for his gloved hand, he thinks his heart might burst right there in his chest.
“Don’t worry about Shiro. He’s stingy with everyone at first! To be honest, if he really didn’t like you, he would’ve tried to bite you the first time he saw you! But as for the rest of them? I’ve never seen them warm up to a stranger like that before. Especially Kotaro—the way he acted around you that first night… It kinda made me jealous!”
You shake your head and take his other hand in yours. His face grows warm beneath your gaze, his heartbeat echoing in his ears as you inch your face closer to his.
“If my dogs trust you, then that tells me you must be a good man.”
And suddenly, Chuuya wants nothing more than to sweep you into his arms and press a thousand kisses to your lips.
“Your secret’s safe with me. If you want to come back, you’re more than welcome to! And if you want, we can just keep it between us. No outside drama, no mentions of work—just you and me and all these dogs…if that sounds good with you.”
Chuuya doesn’t think he can smile any wider. There’s another strange feeling in his chest, so much more pleasant than the one from earlier. No more shaking hands or butterflies in his stomach; only a sweet, warm feeling that pools deep in his chest.
It reminds him of your smile, of your warmth and affection for the little family you’ve made for yourself, as he tugs you in closer with Kotaro yipping happily at your heels.
“Sounds perfect to me, doll.”
101 notes · View notes
antxlss · 6 months
Text
roadtrip V
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pairing: anakin x reader (modern au)
summary: after a day in the beach, you and anakin attend a local house party where things become… interesting.
warnings: suggestive comments, suggestive actions, alcohol, sexually degrading comments directed towards reader
words: 3.8k
a/n: OKAY. i'm sorry i've been gone for a little bit, but my professors are kicking my ass rn. fr bout to drop out. next chapter, there will be smut. anyways, I love you guys the most, hope you enjoy! ~max <3
-—————————⋆。‧˚ʚɞ˚‧。⋆—————————-
part IV
You and Anakin stay in the beach all day. At about 6:00 p.m. you decide to go inside.
As the sunlight fades, you and Anakin get up from your towels and walk back towards your rental house.
Before you know it, the two of you are already in the kitchen together cooking food.
Anakin smiles at you, as he chops some vegetables for the dinner you're both cooking.
You put some water on to boil, as you both chop vegetables for the meal you're having.
Suddenly, Anakin looks up at you and asks the next question.
"Hey. Can I talk to you about something?"
"No." You reply bluntly.
You just want to enjoy your vacation without taking about your whole situation and you've voiced that multiple times to Anakin.
"Come on. It's really important. I know you don't want to talk about Padme, and that's fine. But this is something else entirely. Just listen to what I have to say, okay?"
Anakin smiles at you, as he continues to cook dinner.
"Please."
Anakin's voice is gentle, and you can feel a hint of sadness and pleading as he asks you again.
"Fine."
Anakin takes a deep breath, and then begins to speak.
"Padme and I are over..."
You pause for a moment, and stare at Anakin. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, and feel your ears turn red as Anakin continues to speak.
"I texted her. I told her I'm done seeing her. That I love someone else."
Anakin says, and you can feel a small sigh of relief as Anakin tells you something that you already suspected.
You feel like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders in that moment. But you weren't going to let Anakin know that.
"Okay." You reply. No emotions.
You start seasoning the chicken you planned on grilling.
Anakin smiles at you as you season the chicken, and he continues to chop vegetables for dinner in front of you.
You can feel Anakin looking at you, and you take a peek at Anakin while you add seasoning to the chicken.
You see Anakin's face, which is still flushed and sweaty after spending all day in the sun next to you.
He looks at you with a soft smile, and you can feel him getting closer to you.
He puts his hands on the counter next to where you are standing, and leans down closer to you.
"Anakin, what are you doing?"
Anakin's face is just inches away from your own now.
His eyes look deep into yours, and you can feel yourself starting to feel nervous.
"I just really want a kiss right now..."
Anakin's voice is soft as he says the next words, and you feel your whole body tense up.
"Can I have one?"
Anakin's face is starting to turn a bright shade of red, and you can feel his breath in your ear.
"No. How many times have I told you. I don't care if it's over with you and Padme, I just want you to act normal. You're honestly freaking me out." You were started to get fed up.
Anakin looks at you for a moment, with a look of confusion and hurt on his face.
"I am being normal... I'm just trying to show you how much I want to be with you. To make you understand how I've felt for so long."
Anakin pauses for a moment and then continues speaking.
"I thought you'd be happy that me and Padme are over. The one reason I don't think we can work out... is gone."
Anakin's voice is filled with pain and confusion, and you feel a tiny bit of guilt.
"I am happy, but you have to understand how crazy this is. You just ending it with her." You explain.
"This is a bad time for us to finally confess or feeling for each other. We are going to different colleges in a week."
You can feel Anakin's body tense up when you mention going to different colleges.
He takes a deep breath, and then slowly exhales.
"Yeah... I guess you're right. It's just hard for me to think about you leaving, and knowing that you're going away..."
Anakin looks down at the ground for a moment, and you can tell he's feeling very sad, despite his expression showing nothing of the kind.
"So... you still want to wait?"
"I'll wait for you as long as it takes. Like I said, let's just enjoy our last week okay? That means no flirty moves Anakin." You scold.
Anakin sighs softly and stands up from his spot next to you.
"Alright... I'll stop flirting with you now. But... I don't think I can just turn off my feelings for you."
He pauses for a moment, and looks down at you with a sad expression.
"Just don't go and make me wait forever, alright?"
Anakin's voice is soft, and you can feel the pain in his words.
You just smile to yourself.
Anakin looks up at you with a smile, as he stares at you for a few moments.
You can still feel that tension between the two of you, even though you made it clear to Anakin that you wanted nothing more than just friendship for the time being.
Suddenly, Anakin speaks again in a joking tone.
"Can I make one more flirty comment?"
You side eye him but eventually nod.
Anakin grins and then leans down towards you again.
"I've got a feeling that I'm not gonna be able to control myself for much longer."
Anakin's voice is playful, and you can feel his hands on your hips.
He stares into your eyes with a smile, and you can tell that Anakin doesn't plan on waiting long before he makes his next move.
You grab his hands off your hips and spin out of his grip. You grab the chicken and start to walk towards the porch so you can grill.
"Hey hey hey!!"
Anakin chases after you, and you can feel him grabbing your shoulders from behind.
"Where do you think you're going?"
He looks at you with a slight grin, and you can feel his arms wrap around your waist as he pulls himself closer to you.
"I won't be able to control myself if you don't stop." You mumble.
Anakin pauses for a moment, and still keeps his arms on your body.
You can feel your hearts racing as Anakin pulls himself even closer to you.
"Then don't control yourself."
Anakin's voice is quiet, and you can feel his body press up against yours.
His lips are right next to your ear.
"Let me have you. Just this one time..."
"Not until I'm sure that you're sure." You sigh.
You stand on your tiptoes and press a gentle kiss to Anakin's cheek.
You turn around and start up the grill.
You feel Anakin's body relax as you place a gentle kiss on his cheek.
Anakin glances at you and smiles, as he backs away slowly and allows you to start the grill without disturbing you.
"Just let me know if you change your mind."
He says in a joking tone, as he walks back towards the house to get the vegetables you guys will enjoy together for dinner.
You and Anakin quickly finished preparing and eating your dinner. You were now left with the task of cleaning up your mess from cooking.
Anakin was at the sink doing dishes while you were wiping down the counter.
You wipe down the counters while Anakin cleans off the dishes.
Suddenly, Anakin turns to you and speaks.
"Hey. Can I ask you something?"
His face is serious as he looks at you, and you can tell that Anakin is trying to figure out what to say.
"Actually, this one might be a bit weird... so, you don't have to answer if you're not comfortable."
Anakin looks back down at the dishes again, and you can feel him getting nervous again as he speaks.
It seems like Anakin is always asking you something lately.
"Yeah, go ahead."
"Did you... ever... think about maybe going to the same college as me? Maybe... spending your years in undergrad with me?"
You can feel Anakin's face getting flushed again as he speaks, and you can tell that he's really nervous to finally ask this question.
Anakin looks down at the dishes again, and continues wiping them off.
He looks over at you again, and asks the next question.
"I know it probably sounds dumb, but... I had to ask. We'd be living close to each other for four years.... it could be fun."
"I..." You trail off.
"I don't know."
Anakin stares at you with a curious expression, as you look a bit unsure of how to answer his question.
Anakin quickly speaks again.
"Look, you don't have to make up your mind right now. Can we just... talk about it?"
Anakin starts to look a bit nervous now that we're talking about his future. You can tell he is just as unsure of what he wants to do for his future, as you are.
"Do you realize how crazy you sound?" You ask.
"It's a week before move in day."
"I know it's a bit sudden, but... you really mean a lot to me. And I just want to be as close to you as possible..."
Anakin pauses for a second, and then speaks again.
"Look, we've always been there for each other. Don't you feel like we could spend the next four years together?"
Anakin smiles at you, as he tries to convince you to think about him and the time you've spent together.
You think about all your school years. You've been close with Anakin since you were babies. You've never been apart. Maybe you underestimated how hard it would be to not see him every day.
You didn't want to think about it, so you're changed the subject.
"Did you ever find a party we can go to? I want to go tonight."
Anakin takes a moment to think, and then he suddenly smiles.
"Yeah, actually. There's a party just a few streets away, it's like a ten minute walk."
Anakin speaks up again.
"You know what I'd love even more though? Having a one-on-one party with you."
Anakin grins at you, and you can tell that Anakin has other plans in mind for the two of you tonight.
"You're funny." You sarcastically reply.
Even though you don't let Anakin know, you can't deny the heat that is spreading in between your legs at his comment.
Anakin chuckles at your sarcasm.
"Oh yeah? I'm just saying... you and me, in a room together... just having some alone time."
Anakin's face is getting brighter and brighter as he talks about this 'idea' he has. He starts to move closer to you now, and you can feel his arms wrap around your waist.
His lips are only a couple of inches away from touching your neck, and you can feel Anakin starting to bite his lip as he speaks seductively to you.
For what feels like the thousandth time today, you shrug his arms off of you.
"We are going to that party."
Anakin chuckles again and steps back from you.
"Alright, alright. We'll go to the party. But... you still haven't answered my question. Are you sure you don't wanna spend the next four years with me?"
Anakin looks at you with a teasing face, and you can feel the sexual tension rising again between you and him as he speaks.
"I'm going to get ready." You ignore his question.
Anakin starts to laugh and speaks to you again.
"Alright, alright. Don't get mad at me, I'm only asking!"
But you just ignore him now, and you head off to get ready for the party.
Anakin just shrugs and finishes wiping off the dishes.
He walks out of the kitchen to go brush his teeth and get himself ready.
You take a shower to wash all the sweat, sunscreen, and sand off of you from your day at the beach.
You on your makeup and a cute outfit.
When you finished getting ready you walk into the living area and saw Anakin sitting on the couch scrolling mindlessly on his phone.
Anakin was dressed in a casual outfit. Baggy jeans and a band tee.
Anakin looks up at you and smiles, when you walk into the living room in your cute outfit.
He quickly puts his phone down and stands up.
He looks at you and speaks.
"Wow, you look amazing tonight. Are you ready?"
Anakin's voice is soft as he speaks, and you can tell that Anakin is trying to hide his feelings of lust for you.
"Yeah, let's go." You grab your bag and follow Anakin out to his truck.
He puts the address of the party into his phone and starts frong to the house.
We finally pull up at a big beach house. It was probably owned by rich locals who had a business here, fueled by tourists like Anakin and myself.
Anakin parks the car, and you both get out and make your way towards the party.
As you get closer, you can hear music playing and see dozens of people hanging out both inside and outdoors.
Anakin takes your hand and looks at you.
"Let's have a fun time tonight, alright?"
Anakin smiles at you, as he squeezes your hand softly. You see Anakin's eyes glance towards your lips, and his grin gets bigger as he keeps speaking.
"I don't know, maybe something crazy could happen tonight."
"Maybe."
You reach the door and Anakin opens it. The house is filled with people. Locals and tourists.
Anakin still had a grip on my hand as he guided us through the sea of people.
As you both walk further inside the party, Anakin still keeps a hold on your hand.
You can still feel his eyes fixated on your lips with an eager look.
He glances down at your hand, as he squeezes it again.
"You look amazing tonight, you know that?"
Anakin speaks softly and you can tell that he's trying to flirt with you again.
"I know." You reply smugly.
Anakin just laughs at your comment.
You and Anakin eventually found a drink table after a while and filled up a cup with whatever bottles you could find. After a few sips, you started to talk to people.
Even though you both knew no one before you got here, you ended up meeting a small group of people. You wouldn't call them friends considering you didn't even remember their names, but you still somehow ended up in a game of drunken truth or dare.
You assumed your new acquaintances were locals because they seemed very familiar with the house. They led you both down to a finished basement where the music was faded and you could actually hear each other without screaming. The group took their seats on the nice couch and we began playing.
You and Anakin take a seat on the nice and comfortable couch with the new group of people you just met.
After a few drinks, you all decide to play a game of drunken truth or dare.
As things progressed, you didn't even know these people but you all still bonded in a way. Your new acquaintances were asking questions, and you guys all had a lot of funny or interesting answers.
Your new friends ask Anakin a question for the next round of the game.
"Truth or dare?" The girl you now know as Sarah, asks Anakin.
Anakin smiles and speaks.
"Dare."
You and the rest of your new friends chuckle, knowing that Anakin is known to have a crazy personality.
He quickly speaks again.
"Try giving me your toughest dare."
Anakin looks around the group, as he waits for Sarah to make the first move.
"I dare you to make out with me. Tongue and everything. At least 10 seconds." Sarah smirks.
Everyone in the group laughs.
Anakin just stares at Sarah with a surprised and flustered look, as the group laughs.
He quickly looks around the group, as the group continues laughing at him and Sarah.
Anakin sighs, as he suddenly starts to move towards Sarah.
"Fine," Anakin says in a joking tone, as he puts on an overly exaggerated expression.
Anakin and Sarah suddenly lock lips, as they start making out in front of the entire group. They hold the kiss for ten seconds, as the group starts to cheer and applaud as the two break apart.
You were pissed. Actually pissed was an understatement. You know it's just a game. You know you have denied every advance Anakin has made in you the whole trip so far, but they doesn't make you any less jealous.
A voice interrupted your thoughts.
"Y/N, truth or dare?" The boy named JJ questioned you.
You look up at JJ with a small smile, as you take a moment to think of your answer.
After a few seconds, you smile at JJ again and say.
"Dare."
You expect the dare to be something embarrassing, as you wait to see what JJ thinks up.
You look over at Anakin. He just stares at his hands.
Your attention is brought back to the group when JJ begins to state his dare.
"I dare you to fake an orgasm." JJ smirks at you.
You instantly feel annoyed, and the first thing that comes to your mind is to walk away or ignore that stupid dare entirely.
But, you know that it'll just make things awkward and even more frustrating.
You look at JJ and speak.
"Fine...I'll do it, where am I supposed to fake it though?"
You speak in an annoyed tone, as you wait for JJ or someone else to answer your question.
"Sit on my lap. Fake it while sitting on my lap." JJ answered.
Anakin finally looks up from his hands.
You instantly get annoyed, as you didn't expect the dare to be THAT stupid.
You hesitate for a moment before deciding to at least go along with the game. If you ignore him or walk away, things will just get even more awkward.
As you sit on JJ's lap, you feel his hands around your waist and you can feel his body heat as you both sit together.
You try to ignore the fact that Anakin is just staring at you both, as you begin to fake your orgasm right on JJ's lap.
You gently buck your hips and let out soft pants and whimpers. You decided now would be the perfect time to get Anakin back for Padme, the dare, for everything.
You make direct eye contact with him and continue to grind on JJ as your whimpers turn into moans.
You keep faking it with JJ, as you keep your eyes locked on Anakin.
You can see Anakin's expression changing every few seconds as you fake it.
He goes from looking shocked, stunned, annoyed, frustrated and disgusted all within a few moments.
He tries talking to you but you continue to ignore him, as you fake it more and more aggressively now.
You finally finish your fake orgasm with one last loud, pornographic moan.
You hop off of JJ's lap and make your way to sit beside Anakin again.
Anakin gives a disgusted look, as you sit next to him again. He quickly speaks.
"Why did you do that?"
You stare at Anakin as you smile at him. The two of you sit together, as you feel JJ get up and leave.
"I had to get back at you somehow... you really don't have to make a big deal out of it."
You turn back away, trying to ignore what's happening. Your face is getting red, but you feel happy to get back at him for everything he's done to you so far.
"Stop looking at me like that." You growl at him.
Anakin stares back at you in an annoyed manner.
"What do you expect me to look like? You just had a pretend orgasm on another guy!"
"You just made out with another girl!" You whisper-yell back.
Anakin's expression turns even more annoyed, as he speaks to you.
"Yeah, but so what?"
He grabs his phone and starts to unlock it.
"It was all a joke, don't take it so seriously."
He speaks with an annoyed tone, while he starts to scroll through something on his phone.
"You're just mad I gave you a boner."
You look down and point at the obvious bulge in his jeans.
Anakin stops and starts to look down, when you point out the bulge in his jeans.
He quickly looks back up and speaks to you.
"What about it?"
Anakin speaks with a cocky look on his face, as he continues to gaze at you.
Maybe it was the alcohol. It was definitely the alcohol. You lost all self-respect. You forgot about everything with Padme. You forgot about the group of people around you.
"You need help?" You reach and cup his bulge in your palm.
You feel the heat of embarrassment and guilt sweep your face, as you instantly remember your values and what you were supposed to be like.
But it's hard to think about that right now in this state of drunkenness.
You can't help but stare at Anakin's bulge, as you touch it.
Anakin continues to speak to you.
"Wow, are you really that desperate?"
You quickly take your hand away from his bulge, as you try to ignore your feelings of lust and embarrassment.
"I- uh. I'm sorry." You cover your face.
Luckily everyone was occupied doing their own thing.
"Fuck. I just got carried away."
Anakin smirks at you as he speaks.
"Such a needy whore. Can't keep your hands off my cock. We are in public darling."
You instantly feel your face go red with embarrassment, as you look back up at Anakin.
You stare at him in shame, as your body feels hotter with embarrassment and lust.
"Such a needy whore"
You feel his words pierce your heart, as you feel the heat of embarrassment rushing through your body.
Anakin continues.
"Keep trying to pretend you're mad at me. Like you have self respect, but you can't hide how much you want me."
" I- 'm not mad at you Ani." You mumble.
"Oh really? Then what's with the look of shame on your face."
Anakin smirks and looks at you with an overly confident look.
He pauses to look at you more, as he smiles and speaks again.
"I can feel your heart beating faster.
"Maybe you've been playing hard to get, but you finally gave up."
Anakin stares at you with a smug expression, as he enjoys seeing you flustered and embarrassed.
"Let's go home."
part VI
185 notes · View notes
sugaakookiee · 3 months
Text
All the Time in the World | JJK |
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Title: All the Time in the World
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Angst
Word count: 5.5K
Posting day: 122723
Summary: You meet a cute boy at the hospital that was in a wheelchair. He brought you more joy than you’ve ever seen since you got admitted. He makes you wish you had all the time in the world.
Warnings: based on JK’s storyline in HYYH, reader has a terminal illness (not specified), death of reader, JK sings to her the night before she dies (if I’m missing a warning, please let me know)
(AN: This is the first thing that I’ve put out that I’ve written out of my BTS fics, so it might not be so great but I’m getting better every day haha)
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Today was just another day of you sitting by the window and looking out of your hospital room. Since you got admitted here a month and a half ago, the days never seem to change. You wake up, maybe throw up for five minutes, stare outside your window until breakfast, eat breakfast, then go back to the window until lunch, eat lunch, then go back to the window until dinner, eat dinner, then go back to the window until Lights Out. You couldn't say that you were eating; it was more like taking in whatever you could stomach every meal.
It wasn't like anybody was keeping you in your room. You could leave anytime. Your nurses and parents sometimes plead with you to go outside, that it's not good to be in your room. You know it's not good to be locked in all day, but what's the point of enjoying life if life doesn't want you to enjoy it? For the millionth time since you've been here, you look down at your hands to see the back of your left hand occupied by a needle held down by white tape. Next, you look up next to you to see your IV drip on the pole.
You were dying, and instead of your parents leaving you at home, they put you here. They said it was to make it clear that being here can make you feel better, but you knew, and they knew there was no way out. Whether it was here or at home, you were going to die. While the doctors say it wouldn't be anytime soon, your negative thoughts are already catching up. The only way you can describe yourself when you look in the mirror is Hell; you had prominent eye bags, your hair was thinning out, and you were losing weight from how little you were eating.
Your session of wallowing in your self-pity is interrupted by knocks on the door. You didn't even look at who it could be because only one person comes to your room during early mornings. It was none other than one of your nurses, Nabi.
"Good morning," She says while opening the door, holding a tray. She places it on a table next to your bed. "How are you feeling? Did you throw up today?" She looks at you to see you shake your head. That's another thing that's changed since you've been here; you haven't said a word to anyone.
"That's a relief to hear. There is your breakfast, and your parents called to let me know they're coming today." You weren't sure why Nurse Nabi had to tell you that your parents were coming to see you. She has done that since you have been here, and you were sure visitors could come without calling in. You figured they called in to make sure you were still alive.
You lazily get off the chair you were sitting in, dragging your IV pole with you, and return to bed to eat breakfast. Unfortunately, because of your illness, you had a weak stomach, so soft foods were your best friends.
You stare blankly at your tray for a few moments: a small bowl of oatmeal, banana slices, plain yogurt, and a glass of water. You felt a hand move your hair out of your face. You look up to see Nabi, who is still in your room.
"You know, your birthday is in about six months, and I think it would be great that you make it to 18." She said. While she never heard you talk, you and Nabi enjoyed each other's company. You remember one time she said that you gave her the least hard time compared to everyone else she has to watch, which is something she is not supposed to say, but you won't tell anyone.
When you finally looked at Nabi, she flashed you a quick grin before speaking again, "Anyway, eat what you can. Your parents will be here in a bit." You nod to confirm that you heard her. You only start to eat after Nabi leaves the room, taking in small spoonfuls each time. When Nabi closes the door, she starts taking deep breaths to control her tears, knowing the chances of living to your birthday are slim.
After a visit from your parents and a check to see how much you have eaten, which, luckily, was half of everything, you go back to your window until lunchtime. As you look outside, you hear your father clear his throat to get your attention.
"Well, we'll see you next time. I'll go talk to Nabi, then we can go." He said, directing to your mother. He leaves the room, leaving you with your mother. You could sense her coming up behind you and putting both hands on your shoulders.
"You wanna go outside before we leave, baby?" She asked softly, only for you to shake your head. She sighs at your response, "You can't be in here all day. It's not good for you." You shrug. At this point, you didn't care.
~~~
"Nabi, come on, you have to give us something." Your father says.
"Mr. YLN, I know you and your wife sent her here so she can get better, but this isn't something we can fix. Maybe it's time we send her home-"
"No!" He interrupts Nabi loudly, making her jump in surprise. "No." He says again quietly. "There has to be something you can do. It's like she's already dead, and I can't stand it. Try getting her spirits up. Make her go outside, do something. I mean, there has to be someone here she can be friends with."
"I'll see what I can do."
When they finish their conversation, your father returns to your room to retrieve your mother so they can leave. Once your parents depart from the hospital, Nabi thinks about the short chat with your father, and she knows what she can do for you.
~~~
With your parents gone, you spent the rest of the time at the window. Things were the same most of the time: it was sunny most days, sometimes cloudy, and at times, you saw other patients walking around in the garden to get fresh air. Sometimes, you don't know how long you've been looking out the window as your mind wanders, wishing you were in places that weren't here.
The sounds of knocks echo through your room again. You look up at the clock, only to realize it's lunchtime.
"YN, It's lunchtime," Nabi says as she opens the door, placing the tray on the table she used before. You look back at her, then return your gaze to the window. She lets out a sigh, "Come on, YN. I have something to talk to you about. I think I'll make you happy."
Once you lay back in your bed, you stare blankly at your tray again: a small bowl of chili, sliced strawberries, cubes of gelatin, and a glass of water. You could only wait for Nabi to say whatever she wanted to say. Before she starts, she opens a drawer next to the bed to get a hairbrush from inside. It was yours, but you stopped using it when your hair started thinning.
"You know..." She starts speaking, brushing my hair, "Upstairs, there's a boy around your age. I think he's a bit older than you, a year maybe." Upstairs? You've been here long enough to know that the floor after this one is where they held the patients who had paralysis. "He's been here for a little over three weeks. He's just starting to use his wheelchair. You could, you know, make a friend. Maybe after lunch, I could take you to the floor."
As she finishes talking, she holds onto all your hair and ties it into a loose, low ponytail, "What do you say, hm?" Nabi tries to prompt an answer from you, but you only shrug, "Well, I'm going to be outside if you wanna go." She takes her leave soon after so you can eat lunch or whatever you can eat.
After about an hour, you're finally out of your room, looking for Nabi. You had to blink a few times to get used to the lights in the hallway. It had been a long time since you stepped out of your room. Once your eyes are focused, you see Nabi, who sees you from the corner of her eye while talking to another nurse.
You see her excuse herself from the discussion with the nurse and walk towards you. "You wanna go?" You nod. "Okay, let me take back your tray, and I can take you there." Before she can move, you shake your head. "What? What's wrong?" Nabi asked, and you only pointed at yourself, "You wanna go alone?" You nod once again. "Okay, just remember, you have to talk."
Once on the upper floor, you started looking for a boy around your age in a wheelchair, pushing your pole along with you. Maybe he was still in his room or the garden outside. Nabi never told you what room he was in, so you wanted to call it quits until tomorrow. Well, almost. Right before you turn the corner to the elevators, you hear the sound of squeaking wheels. You turn towards the direction of the noise to see a boy, the boy Nabi was talking about.
You could tell he was still trying to get used to being in the chair by the strength he was putting into pushing himself. Each push made him look at the floor, allowing you to move to get his attention. As he rolls closer, you hold out your right arm, hoping he will notice you and stop. When he's two feet from hitting you, he stops moving the wheelchair.
He lifts his head to look at you, then tilts it in confusion. You stare at him for a few moments before turning your hand to shake his. Once he figures out what you want, he reaches his hand out to shake yours. You both hold on to each other's hand when they make contact.
~~~
"So..." The boy started. You both were in the sitting area, which was vacant, "Why are you here?" You weren't sure how to answer that. How could you say that you were dying and didn't want to be here? "Not much of a talking, I see. I can go first. Believe it or not, I'm a dancer. I was walking home after practice, and it was dark. I was being an idiot, and I didn't look both ways when I crossed the street, and I got hit by a car. When I woke up, they told me I was lucky that I was paralyzed only from the waist down. I was worried I wouldn't be able to walk again, but they said the chances of me walking again were high. Anyway, it's your turn."
You weren't sure how you would sound after not talking for a month and a half. Do you even remember what you sound like? Your mouth seems to work faster than your brain as you start talking without your control, "I'm sick." Those were the first words you've said since being here. "They said that I'm..." How would he react if you told him you didn't know how much time you had? You couldn't. "They told me that sometimes it will feel like I'm dying, but it would get worse before it gets better. It's scary sometimes, to be honest."
"That's good - not the dying part, I mean. At least you know you'll get out of here eventually." He says. Oh, how much you wanted to tell him you'd leave the building, just not from the front door. "Oh, I just realized we never introduced ourselves to each other. I'm Jungkook." He sticks out his hand, presumably to shake yours. You take a hold of his to shake it, "I'm YN."
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You wake up feeling all the contents in your stomach coming up your throat. You throw the covers off yourself and rush into the bathroom, fall onto your knees, and throw up last night’s dinner into the toilet bowl. You should be used to this by now, but it never stops feeling like mental spoons are coming down. As it goes on, your eyes fill with tears, and you feel the bile burning your throat.
When you finish, you grab a few sheets of toilet paper and wipe your mouth. You sigh at the paper, becoming drenched in a dark red substance. It’s not been great seeing blood coming out of your mouth for the past few weeks. You throw away the paper in the trash bin, seeing the pile of bloodied paper coming up the brim.
You don’t know how long you can do this for. If it’s going to keep getting insufferable, you don’t want to be here anymore.
You collapse on the floor of the bathroom, feeling your eyes close. You want to fall asleep on the cold floor, not wanting to deal with the day. You open them up when you hear knocks on the door and the noisy hinges when it opens.
“Good morning, YN,” Nabi’s voice echoes through your room. You hear her sigh as she sees your IV pole in the bathroom, the figure of your body on the floor, placing your breakfast tray down, and the sound of her shoes coming closer to you. She stops at the doorway, seeing you lying on the floor, “You okay? Come on, get up.” She grabs you firmly and pulls you up to your feet, “Let’s lay you down in bed.”
You walk weakly back to your bed, feeling the pain in your throat and stomach still prevalent, “You lay down, and I’ll get you something else to eat, then we gotta change your needle.” Nabi continued. You glance down at your left hand, seeing a large purple bruise from all the needles of your IV. You wince as you climb back to bed and lie down. Nabi gently moves your hair out of the way of your eyes, smiling sadly at the discoloration on your face, “I’ll be back.” She says before taking the tray and leaving the room.
You fall asleep for about 10 minutes before being woken by knocks at your door. Nabi came in again, “I got you soup,” she said, placing the tray in front of you and a new needle to switch out the old one that she placed on the drawer next to your bed, “Also, a special someone told me to give this to you.” She reaches into her pockets and pulls out a Binggrae Strawberry banana milk carton with a sticky note pasted on it.
‘Nabi told me you weren’t feeling so good, so I got you this. I’ll meet you outside in the garden after breakfast :) - JK.’
Although you wanted to sleep for the rest of the day because you feel sick, maybe going outside will do you good. You didn’t know why, but ever since you met Jungkook, you’ve been getting up more and going outside, something your parents tried and failed to get you to do. After you manage to eat about half of your soup, drink almost all the milk, and Nabi changes your IV needle, you get out of bed to make your way to the garden outside.
Before you met Jungkook, when you didn’t go outside, the garden always seemed like a small place. It didn’t look that big from your window, but being there was a different experience. The garden had all kinds of flowers, all thanks to the patients on the downstairs floors, which was the mental hospital section, who used gardening as a sort of therapy. Sometimes, you saw kids running around as patients would have kids visiting.
As you approach the garden closer, you see Jungkook sitting on a bench. You shout to get his attention, but you soon realize he has his earphones in, leaving your shouts unheard. Once you get closer to him, you place a hand on his shoulder and pull off one of his earbuds, slightly making him jump.
“Hey.” You said, your voice slightly shaky from your morning sickness. He has a small notebook and a pencil in his hands.
“Hey.” He said back, “How are you feeling? Nabi said you felt sick.” He continued with concern in his eyes.
“I’m fine, Jungkook, don’t worry.” You sit next to him on the bench, making him move one of his walking sticks to the other side next to him.
“I have to worry, we’re friends.” You roll your eyes at his reply. Although you were the one who approached him, you weren’t very used to having friends, especially being here. Before you signed into the hospital, you had a handful of friends who never came to see you, but your parents would say that they asked for you.
“Did you like your present?” Jungkook asked, referencing the banana milk he bought you with a silly smile on his face.
“Yes, I did, and I thought I told you to stop buying them for me. You only get so much money once a week that your parents give you.” You rue the day you told Jungkook you liked Strawberry milk when he offered to buy you one passing by a vending machine. Now, when he finds out you’re sick or feeling down, he drops off a carton to Nabi so she can bring it to you.
“If it makes you feel better, I bought one for myself too.” You playfully slap him on the shoulder at his reply, then just let the peaceful silence of the outside take over the space. You look over to see Jungkook sketching in his notebook. The more you watch him, the more you can see a butterfly. For some reason, you’ve never seen them fly around here. Maybe they don’t vibe with the sick and injured. Well, you have seen only one, which made your day every day.
The more you sit here next to him, the more you replay this morning’s events, and before you know it, you speak. “Hey, Jungkook.” Your voice breaks the comfortable silence, “How come you decided to be my friend?”
Jungkook halts his sketching, hearing your question, then chuckles, “Need I remind you that you approached me first.” He replies to your question and then returns to his sketch.
“I know I did, but usually, when a person doesn’t want to be friends with someone, they don’t buy them things or talk to them much the next day.”
Jungkook puts down his notebook once again, “YN before I met you, I was in a coma for two weeks, and I didn’t know how I was going push myself to walk again. When I woke up, I thought about how I had to give up dancing, and that’s all I had. Maybe I would’ve eventually, but not as fast as I have. I mean, I’ve been here for three months, and I’m already using crutches.”
“What does that have to do with me?” How can a terminally ill girl like you give someone the will to return to who they were before?
“Maybe I just needed someone who knew what I was going through. Maybe we aren’t in the same boat, but we are in the same ocean.”
Maybe we aren’t in the same boat, but we are in the same ocean.
Yeah, except one day, your life is going to end, and Jungkook’s is going to continue. You two have known each other for three months, and yet, he still doesn’t know. He can’t.
“YN!” They both look behind them to see Nabi. She signals her to come inside, “Your parents are here!”
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You can barely breathe now, sensing pending doom travels through your body. That’s one of the disadvantages of dying, your body knows. You don’t hurl out your food anymore, but that’s just because you can’t. Your throat burns all the time, and you can't eat or drink. You couldn’t even drink the Strawberry milk Jungkook would buy you, no matter how Nabi or you told him to stop buying them.
You’ve got boxes of tissues nearby, as you’ve been coughing up blood now, instead of it happening when you empty your stomach. You can’t sleep now, not knowing if you’re going to wake up the next morning or not, having to feel the sense of death every day until your body finally gives up.
You check the clock for the millionth time, seeing it read 11:40. If your body decides to shut down after that clock turns 12, that would surely be the worst time to die. You’d be okay with any other day, but not tomorrow. It can be the next day, just not tomorrow. You freeze when you hear soft knocks on the door. You know it’s not Nurse Yomi doing her night checks, so it can only be one person.
The door opens enough for the boy to let himself in, awkwardly trying to fit along with his crutches in the small gap.
“What are you doing here?” You whisper loud enough for only him to hear.
“I’m worried. I haven’t seen you in a week, and Nabi is vague about what’s happening.”
“Well, if you’ve seen me now, you can go, Jungkook.”
“What is that?” You can see he’s gesturing to a trash bin next to your bed filled with bloodied tissues. He wasn’t supposed to see that.
“It’s…it’s nosebleeds. They have me on this new medication, and it makes me have nosebleeds.” If Jungkook knew how you’ve lied to him about your health, he’d never forgive you.
“Is that why you can’t sleep?” You nod slightly at his question. He looks around the room, sees the chair in your room, and pulls it closer to your bed, trying to create as little noise as possible. He sits in the chair, places his crutches in a stable place, and grabs your right hand, being as gently as he can, “I’ll stay here until you fall asleep then.”
“You’ll get in trouble.” You said, trying to convince him to leave.
“It’s whatever. Besides, I know Nabi will have my back.”
As the time goes on, the sense of doom is getting bigger. You know you might not last the night, but it would be better if it happened during sleep.
“Jungkook?” You whisper, thinking that he might be asleep before you are. He quickly proves you wrong.
“Yeah?” He whispers back.
“Can you sing?” Your voice breaks as you ask.
“Sing? I guess. I only sing for myself, honestly. If you want me to.” You nod. “Okay.” He clears his throat before he starts singing as quietly as he can.
No limit in the sky
That I won't fly for you
No amount of tears in my eyes
That I won't cry for you
With every breath that I take
I want you to share that air with me
There's no promise that I won't keep
I'll climb a mountain there's none too steep
When it comes to you
There's no crime
Let's take both of our souls
And intertwine
When it comes to you
Don't be blind
Watch me speak from my heart
When it comes to you
Comes to you
Want you to share that
Cupid ain't a lie
Arrow got your name on it
Don't miss out on a love
And regret yourself on it
Open up your mind, clear your head
Ain't gotta wake up to an empty bed
Share my life, it's yours to keep
Now that I give to you all of me
When it comes to you
There's no crime
Let's take both of our souls
And intertwine
When it comes to you
As you hear Jungkook’s voice, you feel your eyelids getting heavy. The pad of his thumb gently touches your knuckles to soothe you, making you fall asleep faster. He notices that your breathing slows down as he’s ending his song. Your grip on his hand is lost as you drift off to dreamland. He waits in the room for a few moments to confirm that you are sleeping, then takes it as his cue to leave. He wasn’t sure if he could sleep. He was too excited to show you a surprise in the morning.
All this time of you pleading to end your suffering had paid off cause as the clock turned to 12:01, you took your last breath, and your heart stopped.
~~~
After sleeping for a few hours, Jungkook gets up to see you. Although he had been still using his crutches, he’d been able to walk regularly for the last few days, and he wanted to surprise you for your birthday, walking through the halls with his own two legs.
“You ready to go home, Jungkook?” He hears his mother ask, “You know I can’t let you be here too long after you’ve healed.”
“I know, I know, just one more day, just today, then I’ll go home.” He heard her sigh before continuing to talk, “Oh, you did bring the flowers I asked for, right, Mom?”
“Yeah, although I don’t know you wanted these specifically.” She said, referring to the mini bouquet of Baby’s Breath flowers in her hand.
Jungkook shrugs before responding, “I saw somewhere that they mean new beginnings, and since it’s her birthday, maybe things will start turning around, and she’ll get better.”
“Jungkook, seriously, what do you plan on doing when you’re out of the hospital? YN is still here. I know you meant well when you became friends with her, but what are you doing after today?”
Jungkook can only shrug again, “I’ll visit to hang out with her. It won’t be the same, but I hope she’ll be okay with me not being here sometimes.” He gestured to his mother to hand him the mini bouquet, “Anyway, I’ll be back. She should be awake by now.”
As he walked through the halls, Jungkook could only imagine your reaction, seeing him walk after six months of recovery. He quickly intakes the smell of the mini bouquet, imagining all the possible outcomes.
He opens the door to your room but doesn’t see you. He doesn’t see any of your belongings. It’s like as if you were never here. The more he looks around to see the lack of your presence, Jungkook replays last night and all the other conversations he had with you. All the signs were there. He drops his flowers to his side as realization dawns upon him.
He recounts the time he asked you why you were in the hospital. You hesitated to answer him before giving him a response. You didn’t tell him the whole truth.
"They told me that sometimes it will feel like I’m dying, but it would get worse before it gets better. It's scary sometimes, to be honest."
He recounts the trash bin that was almost filled to the brim with bloodied tissues from last night. You lied about that as well.
“It’s…it’s nosebleeds. They have me on this new medication, and it makes me have nosebleeds.”
He recounts how you asked him to sing because you couldn’t sleep. His voice was the last one you wanted to hear before death decided to take you away.
“Can you sing?” Your voice breaks as you ask.
How could he be so stupid? How could he not realize that the whole time you’ve known each other, you’ve been dying? He practically sang you to your death last night. How could he feel about that?
~~~
While Jungkook was having an epiphany in your empty hospital room, Nabi was sitting on the floor of a janitor's closet. She needed as much privacy as she could get, crying her eyes out for the millionth time she was reading a letter you left her when this would happen.
You knew that they’d clear out everything from your room, and no matter the time it would happen, you had to make sure she received it.
Your night shift nurse, Yomi, had been doing her checks and opened your door around 12:30 and noticed you weren’t breathing. They did whatever they could, but it was clear that you had been dead for some already.
While clearing your room, staff found a letter in your drawer that only said ‘For Nabi.’ She only found out that you passed away when she came in to do her daytime shift. It hurt more today, as she had a cake prepared for you, proud that you made it your 18th birthday.
Nabi scans her eyes over your writing, her vision blurry from her tears.
‘Nabi, if you’re reading this, my time has run out. I’ve planned to write this up for months, and I’ve written now in case I’m too weak to do so later. I hope that it finds you well. All I wish to say is thank you for being there for me. I know that at the start, I was a headache for you, but I opened up eventually. You never gave up on me when I didn’t want to go outside or talked about the fact that I just wanted to die. Thanks to you, I met Jungkook, and it was the both of you who kept me going for a bit longer while I was in the hospital. I’m not sure when I will pass, but whenever that will be, I hope that I did the most with my time left.
From the seven and a half months we’ve known each other, I can tell you that you made my day every day. While in the hospital, I was heartbroken that I couldn’t see any butterflies. I felt like life was dull without them, not seeing them through my window or in the garden. Thank you for helping me see a butterfly. They’re truly as beautiful as your name, Nabi.’
As she finishes reading over the letter again, her tears uncontrollably stream down her face, hugging the paper close to her chest.
~~~
Jungkook returns to his room, feeling a mixture of rage and sadness. The mini boutique of flowers smashed in his hand, now white from the pressure. He was so enraged at himself that he almost forgot his mother was still there.
“So, how did it go?” She asked, assuming it didn’t go well from the expression on his face and the flowers still in his hands.
“Bad, Mom, very bad.” He pauses for a moment, “She’s dead.” Even when he’s said it, it still doesn’t feel real. His mother covers her mouth with her hands, in shock at the news.
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry-“ His mother started, getting closer to him for a hug before Jungkook interrupted her, making her jump.
“She lied, Mom! She lied to me about everything, and I should have known!”
“Sweetheart, nobody would have known-“
“You don’t understand! If I just listened more, I would have known that was happening!” Tears appear in his eyes, recalling everything that happened, “The first day I met YN, she told me that she was dying and I wasn’t listening. I believed her when she said she would get better. She was getting sicker every day, and I didn’t see it. I was her friend! I was supposed to know! And last night! I was an idiot to believe she was getting nosebleeds like she said.”
Before Jungkook knew it, he wrapped his arms around his mother, releasing his tears onto her shoulder.
“She asked me to sing to her, Mom.” He whispered against her shoulder, “Last night, she asked me to sing to her. She said she couldn’t sleep, so I did. She was okay when I left the room.”
His mother hushes him and gently caresses the back of his head, comforting him. “I know, sweetheart, it’s okay. She’s going to be okay now.”
After some time, Jungkook stopped crying and started packing his stuff to go home. There was no reason for him to stay anymore, so there was no choice but to leave, and while clearing his drawer from the various sketches and drawings he had done while in the hospital, a page slipped from the pile and fell on the floor. He looks down to see the sketch of the butterfly he did while waiting for you in the garden. His eyes travel to the bottom right corner of the page, which has an excerpt of a poem he wrote sometime before being admitted to the hospital that he had named after the creature.
곁에 머물러줄래
내게 약속해줄래
손 대면 날아갈까 부서질까
겁나 겁나 겁나
시간을 멈출래
이 순간이 지나면
없었던 일이 될까 널 잃을까
겁나 겁나 겁나
The full poem was about wanting your loved ones to not succumb to their mental illness and having the fear of letting them go or else they’ll fly away like a butterfly. It also speaks about wanting to be able to stop time from passing and to hold on to each other forever. After reading the small part that he had written on the page, he can’t help but blame himself, feeling his eyes fill with tears once again. He shouldn’t have let go of your hand last night. If he hadn’t, maybe you’d have all the time in the world.
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tokio-motel · 7 months
Note
Can you do headcannos about tom/bill x kpop idol reader. We're they meet us at an event or something and ask if we wanna hang out or try to flirt but reader just walks away with out saying anything to prevent getting in trouble or makeing a scandal. But tom/bill don't know that and think we're just being rude.
(Just incase you didn't know kpop idols have very strict rules they have to fallow like no dateing and they have to be a certain weight and they can't eat wean they want and can't make scandals that can put there group in trouble) (◍•ᴗ•◍)
BILL KAULITZ X GN KPOP IDOL READER
its been a second since ive made a bill only post which is weird cuz he's my fav 💀 also i have no knowledge on kpop idols so ty for telling me 🤗
--
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・Bill just wants to talk to you bb 😕
・I feel like he would subtly flirt but he just wants to make conversation
・He'd be so sad if you just walked away or ignored him
・I don't think he would understand or already know the rules of your career
・He's free to do whatever, so why can't you?
・He'd try again, thinking maybe you didn't hear/see him
・Feels a little offended when you ignore him again 💀
・Just kinda stands there, stunned
・Probably pouts too
・If you come up to him to apologize or just talk he feels like the luckiest guy on the planet.
・If you explain the 'rules' of your career he's so fucking confused
"What do you mean you can't date?"
・Thinks you're just trying to cover up you don't wanna date him
・Please just give him a peck on his forehead/cheek to make him feel better 😕😕
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sensei-venus · 5 months
Text
-(Robby x Chubby!Short!Reader x Demetri)
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(Unedited) (Very Short Imagine, Mentions of Reader being short, Robby and Reader are married, hinted bi Robby and Demetri, not to explicit start too a threesome, Monster Dick!Demetri.)
I kinda like the idea that one day Reader confides in her husband, Robby, that she has thought about maybe having a threesome. She's very embarrassed about the thought but can't help herself by telling her loving husband about it. Of course Robby is shocked but he can't deny that the new idea sounds fun. They talk about it for a little while and agree they would both be open to having another guy join them in bed.
Robby likes the idea of exploring his sexuality and if Reader is okay with it then he is happy to let them both indulge in something new.
They didn't bring it up again for a few months. It's on the back of their mind for the time being, work and home life being at the main front.
Then one day after a very very long day of work Robby texts Reader that he has a surprise. She's getting home late from work, the moon is already high in the sky. She's just a little giddy at the text, wondering what he could be planning for her. So when she puts her key in the front door and unlocks it then walks in to find a nice pair of new langerat on the hallway table she's blushing up a storm.
Her cheeks are warm as she reads the small note on top of the lacy outfit “ Put this on and come to the bedroom for your big surprise, xoxo~” with a small heart at the end. She quickly strips down in the middle of the hallway and slips the little fabric on.
The whole thing barely covers her up in any way. Skimpy mesh fabric cups hardly keep her tits in, they practically spill out of the sides. Her nipples are on full display as they poke out of the see-through mesh. The panties that barely cover her already moist pussy are the same. Her belly spills over the waistband just enough.
But she doesn't give it a second thought because she knows Robby loves that.
She giggles a little as she tip toes around the apartment. Trying her best to quickly and get to their bedroom. Quietly she opens the door slowly, resting her weight on the door frame as she strikes a little pose for Robby. She wants to try and put on a show for him when she enters.
Her eyes go wide and her face gets even warmer as she realizes Robby is not the only one in their room.
Demetri sits on their bed next to Robby.
His pale face a mix of pink and red that travels down to his chest. His eyes are half-lidded as Robby palms his hard dick though his boxers. He's moaning as the shorter boy plays with his cock. Robby smirks as he feels up the boy, his own dick standing at attention in his briefs. A small wet spot starts on the front of the tight gray fabric. Suddenly his eyes are on her while he still entertaining Demetri with his palm.
“Look who decided to finally join us, I was getting worried.” his voice purees. Demetri whimpers as Robby takes his hand away. He gets up and slowly walks over to Reader, holding her chubby sides in his hands and squeezing. He kisses up her neck.
“Iv see how you look at him when we all hang out, it's been like that for years now. You don't have to hide that you find him attractive because so do I. I knew he would be the perfect person to bring into our bedroom. When I corned him he didn't even deny it. He's been looking at us for years too. It's kinda cute when you think about it.”
Readers ears are on fire at his words, her eyes darting over to find Demetri looking everywhere but them. Her pussy starts to tingle as she watches him fidget. He's too nervous to even look at them right now.
The one thing that's has Reader on edge is what she sees when she starts really looking at Demetri’s boxers. He's huge and as just knows it. From just the bulge going on in his loose boxers who knows he's really big. She can see the way his erection pushes at the waistband. There is no telling how much he is really packing until they get those boxers off him. This same thought also has Reader clamping her thighs shut just a little, a spark of fear running through her body.
She whispers “I-I love the thought you put into this and you are right, I have always found Demetri attractive but…Robby oh my god he's huge!” she practically hisses.
“I'm not saying that to be funny or even embarrassed! Robby, he's almost a foot taller than you, and I'm smaller than you! I don't know if I can even handle him on a good day.” she felt her body shift a little. Robby was a good few inches taller than she was and she was okay with that. Not to mention how dick was nice if not a little above average for his size. She likes that because for one it was always easy to get started and the most important part is that there was little pain when having sex.
If Demetri was packing anything that would make him proportional to his height, then he had a monster in his pants which honestly frightened the smaller girl.
“Trust me I know but I already talked to him about it. He's not expecting you to take him completely, at least not tonight that is. He's not going to make you hurt yourself just to take all of him on the first try. This is all just for fun remember~ now let's have some fun why don't we?” he grins down at her.
She gulps as she looks back to Demetri.
Maybe they could at least try and have some fun, at least once. Maybe they might actually like it.
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fenfyre · 8 days
Text
Forbidden Fruit - Part IV
Part I
"You won't hurt me, don't worry. I'll take care of it."
"Can I help?" The words were pleasant, eager, but something feverish snuck back into that golden gaze, hunger very much apparent in his eyes if not his voice. "Please, Chil. I want to ... please let me help."
Chilchuck had planned to take care of the preparations by himself. Because he knew what he was doing and would like to get the task done fast and efficient before moving on to the main event. That plan had been laid before golden eyes burned up into his and the impressive length gave another heavy throb under his palm, though. If the tallman was that eager for it Chilchuck saw no good reason to deny him. It might take longer, yes. But they might enjoy themselves along the way. That was the entire point of this encounter, after all. That they would enjoy themselves thoroughly.
"Alright", he nodded, watching those golden eyes brighten. "You can help. Just..."
He did not get to finish the sentence. Not when those hands grabbed him tight again to haul him up and forward with terrifying ease, setting him down right on that sturdy jaw. Chilchuck's heart slammed forward into his ribs, his breath catching in the back of his throat as his hands flew forward to brace and steady himself. Before he could so much as protest he felt a thick, wet tongue lave up against his hole.
"Laios!", he shouted, voice pitched higher than he would ever admit, fingers scrambling against the headboard for purchase. Below him that tongue drew slick, lazy circles around his opening.
The feeling was strange, wet and hot, and his first instinct was to squirm away from it. As soon as he so much as shifted his weight though those hands grabbed and pulled him back down against that jaw, that swirling tongue. The possessive, demanding move made the remaining heat in Chilchuck's veins spike, arousal and fury blending together, and then that tongue probed and pushed and slipped inside him.
The noise escaping him was definitely not a squeak.
"Fuck, you can't just...!"
Now that he had already left Chilchuck reeling the tallman paused, lifting him just enough to speak, breath still so hot against his slick opening.
"Should I stop?"
The question was muffled but honest, concerned. Chilchuck knew it would take but a single word from him to stop this. To make Laios put him down and instead do whatever he was asked to do. He could tell the tallman to get the oil from the bedside table. Hell, he could make the man sit and wait while Chilchuck took care of it himself entirely, after all. Maybe that would teach him some manners.
But even though the thought was promising it was also what gave him the nerve to shake his head and mutter a small, definitely not embarrassed, "No...".
He could stop this any time he liked. Apparently, that was enough reason to keep going. Especially when the noise Laios rumbled against him was one that shook him to his core.
Screwing his eyes shut Chilchuck grabbed the headboard. He was unable to brace himself for the sheer enthusiasm the tallman unleashed on him as he began licking again. Long, broad swipes, quick circles and wet kisses across and around his rim. Nibbling teeth and probing pushes against the opening. Once he pressed inside again Chilchuck could not keep his thighs from trembling. The feeling of that tongue was alien as it worked itself deeper, loosening his muscles and creating space inside him. Licking and sucking and opening him up so gently yet so insistently. Filling him up more thoroughly than he ever would have imagined a tongue to be capable of. The discomfort of the stretch fading soon to leave a sweet tingle of arousal.
The noises were unholy. The slick sliding sounds, wet slurping and low groaning. With his eyes closed Chilchuck was focused in on them even more, picking up every satisfied smack of lips and every squelch of that tongue pushing deeper. It made his skin crawl in the most delicious ways.
The strangely sweet torture dragged on, the tallman below him never ceasing his ministrations, tongue and lips and jaw working tirelessly to open him up. It took Chilchuck a good while caught between morbid fascination and arousal, until he understood that this tongue would keep enjoying him the whole night through if he did not put a stop to it. So even though he had taken quite a liking to the strange feeling he reached down to pet blond hair, eyes still closed as he panted.
"That's enough."
There was a whine from below him yet once again he was grabbed by strong hands and lifted, moved with care and ease until he was set down on that broad chest once again.
~
Part V
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psychwxrdd · 1 month
Text
Chapter IV - My bloody valentine (final)
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Summary: Everything goes downhill once Kate hurts Rafe Cameron. Well, should've known better than to break the Kook's king heart. Now she'll have to pay with her loved ones life.
Warnings: 18+, dni if you're a minor, death mentions, murderer, horror, stalker themes, possessive behaviour, ghostface! rafe, slasher, smut, obsession, yandere, knife play, dark themes, kidnap, implied murder
Kate couldn't recall the last time she cried this hard.
"Wait Rafe, please, i'll answer the questions just fine" She begged, as the disturbing sounds of her mother cries echoed on the call. She wanted to ask about her dad, if he was fine, alive at least.
"Wanna act like a good girl now?"
"Please, i'll do anything, anything you ask me to, just leave them alone"
The few seconds the call went in silence made her heart almost jump out of her mouth. She heard what it seemed to be her dad whimpering.
"Ok...I won't kill them. You're gonna behave?"
"I will, i promise" she pleaded.
"Good." He almost whispered. "Go wait for me in your room. Run."
Kate eyes grew wide, as if she wasn't about to die with anxiety already. She ran to her room, knowing her life really depended on that. Not hers only, her parents life. And maybe anyone else's life too, if Rafe was capable of doing something like that to her family, he wouldn't care about doing this to her friends. To her boyfriend.
The thought of JJ made her heart ache, she wanted nothing more than hug him now. To be comforted, and to protect him. To be with him.
At this point, she was no longer crying. It was so bad she felt numb.
She heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, making her body cold. She was sure her heart stopped beating for a second. Her hands were sweating, she was covered by the same blankets she should have never taken off. She should have stayed in bed. Rafe would eventually get tired and leave her parents, he wouldn't have the patience to wait the whole night. Right?
She wanted to believe that. She would believe anything that was told her right now.
She was staring at the wall, when the footsteps came closer and closer to her room. The door opened, slowly, and she felt chills on her back. She was sure she would die right now. But it was better this way, she thought. It was better if she was murdered instead of someone she loved.
Her bed sank, and she could smell a familiar scent. It was Rafe's fragrance. There was a shadow behind her, a heavy weight. A strong figure.
"You missed me?" He said, with the voice changer in front of the mask. She slowly turned her head to face him. He had his head tilted to the side, and she notices the knife on his hands. There was blood all over it. She gasped, but he was quick to cover her mouth.
"Shhh. It's ok. I'm here now, i'm all you need" As he took the mask off. His bangs were all over his face, and he had red eyes. Did he cried? Couldn't tell.
"Listen...This is all i wanted since the beggining, Kate." he caressed her cheeks. "I wouldn't have done any of this if you just behaved. You choosed this."
He took his gloves off, and placed the knife on her hair, softly caressing and putting behind her ears.
"You don't know how much i love you. Look at what i have done for you." His own eyes teared up, he had a crazy look on them Kate was quite used, but it never scared her before. Not like now. "I killed for you, who else can say that?"
"You killed my parents, Rafe" she said in a painful tone. He stared at her with pity.
"I know...i know, but - but i just wanted to show you what i'm capable of for you. And i'm sorry it just happened to be your parents, i would have killed anyone in their place, honey. And i would kill anyone else if thats what i need to do, to show you my love." He kissed the tip of her nose.
She didn't said anything. Too unreal and crazy for her to deal with it. Whatever he said, that would be. She had no guts to fight anymore.
His lips smashed against hers, his hands helding her chin.
"It's past midnight, so it is already valentine's day, you remember?" He whispered. She nods, no expression at all. " And we're gonna have a lot of fun, sweetheart, just you and me."
He smiled brightly, as if nothing happened.
"Cause you're my girlfriend, aren't you?" He kissed her neck, going down to her breasts, and aggressively taking her shirt off. "Always wanted to see these beautiful tits. Fuck"
He sucked, kissed, bited her nipples. Her body was reacting well to his touch, even tho she didn't respond emotionally to any of that. He kissed her belly, licking it.
"Always wanted to kiss your whole body, always wanted to taste you."
He grabbed his knife, and before she could react, he cutted her panties off.
"Fuck. Look at this beautiful pussy" He touched softly, biting his lips. "Can't believe JJ got to see the pussy thats mine before me."
He pointed the knife handle to her clit, and she whimpered. She moved her hips a bit, enjoying the friction.
Rafe stared amazed at the scene, feeling his cock almost tearing his pants a part.
"Fuck yourself on my knife."
She moved her hips, grinding and putting a bit inside.
"Rafe, that thing about JJ...We didn't actually had sex"
He furrowed his eyebrows, confused.
"Don't be harsh, please"
"Why did you lied?" He asked, sternly.
"Because i wanted you to hate me and move on... I thought you would just call me a bitch and forget about it" Kate confessed. She had a blank expression, but her eyes said it all. Her eyes looked dead, lost. She wasn't entirely here.
"So you're a virgin?"
"Yes" she simply said.
"Oh, baby..." Rafe caressed her face. "So in the end, i'll really be your first and last?"
She nodded. He smiled.
"See it... I'm the only one you need"
And at Rafe's point of view, they made sweet love all night. Now not only he would be her first and last, but she would be his forever, as he made sure to put a baby inside her. They would have a family, they would never be apart from each other, just as he dreamed from the very first moment he saw her that night.
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millersdjarin · 1 year
Text
Some Invisible String
Chapter IV: When You're Young, You Just Run
Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (afab)
Rating: E (eventually)
Summary: Ten years after Reader left Joel for reasons he still doesn't know, they find themselves together again in a town called Jackson. Joel has questions he's too afraid to ask; and Reader dreads having to give the answers.
Chapter length: 4.2k
Warnings/Tags: injury recovery, light angst
Chapter III
Series Masterlist
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notes: second to last chapter ahhh! thank u for reading and enjoying this fic with me, you're all just great humans!
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Joel takes me up a nearby hill outside of the town’s walls, through old trails, over fallen trees and across the crunchy snow. I wrap my arms around him, pressing the side of my face into the back of his jacket, and I tell myself that it’s to shelter my face from the oncoming icy wind. 
The view up here is incredible, stretching across the entire town and all the way to the hydro-plant beyond. Mountains surround us, covered in white, with light grey clouds hanging low over them and blue skies higher up. I can see birds of prey soaring up above us; could probably hear them if I listened closely enough. Despite the wind and the gentle crunch of Felix’s hooves on the snow, it’s so silent out here. 
These days, silence isn’t necessarily the same thing as safe, but Joel tells me that this is one of his regular patrol routes, and he knows it well. If anything’s hiding somewhere, he knows where they’ll be. 
So I just enjoy it. 
Eventually we find our way to a building that looks half-snowed under. It’s not entirely covered, though; it’s a lookout post, probably used for fire watch way back when. A decent size, but only a square, the windows are mostly boarded up, except for one on each wall. Joel unlocks the door and the five padlocks that hold it shut. Before leading Felix inside, he helps me down, holding my weight until I’m stable. 
Once we’re all in, and Felix is munching happily on the net of hay that’s already strung up in here, I take a moment to look around. There’s a hunting rifle propped up in the corner, along with some ammunition, and a bow sitting next to it with a few arrows strewn across the floor. A wicker bench, like something from a garden furniture set, is in front of one of the windows, complete with a pillow and a blanket. In the other corner there’s a fold-up chair beside a locked case, presumably full of more supplies.
“We keep it stocked for an emergency,” Joel explains, leading me over to the bench. I can manage without my crutches now, but the cold makes it harder, so he supports me around my waist until I’m sitting down. “People’ve got stuck here in blizzards before.” 
“Thought you said this place was safe?” I joke. 
He chuckles and grabs the blanket, wrapping it carefully around my shoulders. “It is. I promise. Here, put your leg up.” He gestures for me to turn in my place, taking a gentle hold of my ankle. Following his guidance, I lift up my leg and grimace at the discomfort. It feels better for having it up, though. 
“Warm enough?” Joel asks. 
“For now,” I say. “Depends how long you keep me here.” 
“You make it sound like I’m holding you prisoner,” he pulls across the fold-out chair, takes off his backpack before sitting down opposite me. 
“I mean, I can’t exactly leave on my own right now,” I smirk, gesturing to my leg. 
He reaches into his backpack and pulls out his canteen. “How’s it feeling?” 
“Better. A lot better.” 
“Amazing what a little rest can do, huh?” 
“Yeah. You’d know.”
He looks up at me and raises an eyebrow. “Really, with the sarcasm?” 
“We all know you don’t know how to just stop and rest,” I say. “Don’t think I’ve seen you chill out since…well, ever.” 
He holds up his flask like it’s proving a point, and gestures to the room around him. “What does it look like I’m doin’ now?” 
The light from the windows surrounds us, casting shadows over his face. His cheeks are flushed pink from the cold, his lips just a little blue. It takes me a moment to gather my thoughts enough to respond, but before I can, he reaches into his pack and pulls out two…whisky glasses? 
When he opens his flask and pours it, I expect to see water. But, nope. A golden amber liquid flows out into the glasses, and the smell hits me in an instant. 
Yup, that’s whisky alright. 
“Joel,” I gasp teasingly, “are you usually such a rebel on patrol?” 
Grinning lopsidedly, he hands me one of the glasses. “This ain’t a patrol,” he says. I take it from him, and our fingers brush together for a second. “And it’s good for warmth.” 
“Ah. And here I thought you were finally going to chill out.” 
“Alright, alright,” he shakes his head and uses his own glass to gesture to mine. “Drink.” 
“What are we drinking to?” 
He doesn’t answer. He looks up and takes a good sip, smacking his lips after he’s swallowed. I watch the movement in his throat; his Adam’s apple bobbing down then up again. His eyes follow the glass as he lowers it again. 
I wait for him to speak. Nervous, I lift my own glass to my lips and take a sip. It’s good. The best I’ve had in years, actually. The warmth goes all the way down my throat and to my insides, spreading through me in an instant. It makes me shiver in the best way. “Damn,” I say into the quiet. “That’s good shit. Strong, though.” 
Joel nods in agreement. “Best in my collection.” 
“Collection, huh? You’re living it up here in Jackson.”
“Sure am,” he smiles, wry. Tips his glass at me, then takes another sip. A small moment of quiet passes. “What brought you to Wyoming?” He asks then, surprising me. “Were you comin’ to Jackson?” 
“No,” I almost laugh. “How would I have known about it? And besides, if I’d known there were so many people here I’d have stayed well away.” 
“People find us in all sorts of ways. You’d be surprised how fast news travels.” 
I shrug a shoulder and take another drink. 
“So where’d you go?” He asks. Then, as if he wanted to word it differently, “I mean—where’ve you been? Since you…since we parted ways?”
“Here and there. I wanted to go South for the winter, but my plans went South instead, I guess.” 
“You were alone when we found you,” he says, glancing up at me. “Have there been…any other groups since the old days? Friends…partners?” 
I shake my head. For a moment, my thoughts are too bleak to say anything. I think of what it was like to be a hunter. It was hell. Carnage every day and night. Tommy and I used to talk of leaving; Joel was always reluctant, saying that we were safer staying put. He was probably right—that is, if my feelings hadn’t gotten in the way. 
After that, it seemed better to be alone. 
“No,” I answer eventually, staring solemnly down at my nearly-empty drink. It’s giving my head a nice buzz. A little burn in the back of my throat. If I really let myself, I could believe that we're in a cabin in the mountains during normal life, on vacation, sitting and enjoying a drink on the stoop before heading to bed. 
“You…you’ve been alone this whole time?” 
“Yeah,” I sigh. 
He’s surprised into silence, it seems. 
I glance up at him and catch him staring. He looks away straight away, but I see something on his face. Something sad. A slight crease in his brow, his mouth open a little like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing; like what he’s hearing devastates him. 
“Jesus Christ,” he curses eventually, just a breath. Staring at nothing, he shakes his head. “You survived on your own all this time.…”
“Yeah. I mean, I wouldn’t have survived this,” I motion to my leg, “if I’d been alone last week. But other than that…yeah. Just me. Sometimes it’s easier like that. Easier to slip past people unnoticed.” 
He still looks upset. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, then closes it again. I want him to look at me so badly that it hurts. I want him to turn to me and let the morning sunlight shine on his face and make all the coldness around me fade away. 
I never thought I’d see him again. I thought I was dying, I thought I was hearing things when his voice came to me. 
“Joel…” I start, finding a lump in my throat I hadn’t noticed before.
“You didn’t have to leave,” he says before I can say any more. Finally, he looks at me, and there is so much sadness and regret in his eyes that it actually hurts. “You hear me?” He asks. “You never had to leave. Back then. You could’ve stayed.” 
“Joel…I already told you, I couldn’t let myself…” 
He sighs. Looks away again, down at his glass, shaking his head over and over so much that he must be getting dizzy. 
“Joel,” I say again. It feels like the only thing I can say that makes sense. “You don’t…we don’t have to talk about this…” 
“Yes, we do.” 
“…Okay. Yeah. You’re right.”
“I need you to hear me,” he says. Then his eyes meet mine, and it’s different. More intense, purposeful. I couldn’t look away even if I tried—even if I wanted to. “You didn’t have to leave. You told me why you left, and I’m telling you, it wasn’t…you didn’t need to.” 
I shake my head. “I did,” my voice comes out as nothing but a whisper. “I did, Joel. I couldn’t—I couldn’t keep how I felt to myself, I couldn’t keep it in check…” 
“Goddamit, you’re not—you didn’t have to keep it in check!” He raises his voice just slightly. “I’m trying to tell you that I…I had those feelings, too. Okay? It—it wasn’t just you.” 
Oh. 
I freeze. 
Oh. 
“…Oh,” because suddenly the racing chaos of my mind is silenced to just that one syllable. 
He holds my eyes for another long, piercing moment, then looks away. Briefly he seems to consider something, his jaw working away as he thinks, and then he puts his glass on the floor and runs a hand over his hair. Jesus. The silver flecks in it are shining in the sunlight.
“I get why you thought you had to leave,” he says, quiet again. “I do. And honestly, I’m not sure I could say I wouldn’t’ve done the same thing if I were you. But I…if you’d just told me back then, if I’d known…” 
Somehow, I manage to swallow the emotion in my throat enough to say, “Would it have made a difference?” 
“It would have made every difference.” He says, with a tone that says Are you kidding me? 
“Oh,” again. Dumbly. “But…it’s not like we could’ve…we could never have been…” I know what I’m trying to say, but it won’t come out. How do I express that I just never saw a way for a relationship to work? That I never saw how we could possibly fall in love and be together and act like everything was normal, like there wasn’t enough blood on our hands to fill a bathtub? 
I close my mouth and regroup for a second. Or, try to. 
“I just,” I say, my voice coming out smaller than I’d expected, “I thought I was protecting you.” 
Resting his elbow on his knee, he runs his hand over his mouth, rubs it across his beard. He does it a few times as he stares ahead at nothing again, deep in thought. 
I watch him, silent. Waiting. 
Then, he takes a breath. “Do you still feel that way now?” He drags his eyes to me, and holds them. 
I swallow heavily. Wide-eyed, I stare at him. “I…” yes. Of fucking course I do, Joel. I loved you then, and I love you now. I will always fucking love you. “Yeah,” I admit. I can’t lie to him, and really, there’s no point now, anyway. “I do. I never stopped.” 
For so long, he just stares at me. Nervous, I fiddle with the fabric of my gloves, pulling at loose threads, unsure how much damage I’m causing to them because I can’t fucking tear my eyes away from Joel’s, despite the fact his gaze is making me lose my mind. I decide to take the gloves off, suddenly feeling closed-in by them.
I keep trying to speak, to fill the silence somehow, to try and mend a wound that I’m not sure is even still open anymore. It feels like it’s closed: the chasm of questions and pain between us is different now. Lighter. Like how Joel looks lighter these days, without the weight of the world on his shoulders, that’s how it feels in the air between us. 
When he speaks again, I’m not expecting it, despite the fact I’ve been waiting with bated breath. “I missed you,” he says. 
Oh, God.
“I missed you so goddam much, you know that?” His eyes flick to the space on the bench beside me. Without thinking I shift my leg, moving it off so there’s space for him if he wants. 
“I missed you,” I say, my voice cracking a little from the truth of it. The gut wrenching, undeniable truth in just those three words. “Joel, I…” As I’m shaking my head, lost for words that better convey what I’m trying to say, Joel gets up and comes to sit beside me. I turn to face him, finding the backs of my eyes stinging with tears. 
(I swallow them down so hard that it hurts. I’ve cried enough. I’ve cried enough over him.) 
“Hey…” he says, dipping his head to catch my eyes that have somehow fallen from his. He puts his finger under my chin, holding it up and propping his thumb on the point. He took his gloves off when he came inside, so his bare skin is against mine, his fingertips cold and calloused but fuck, so perfect. Catching my gaze again, he looks so deeply into my eyes that it’s like he’s searching my fucking soul. “Don’t look away,” he says. 
I shake my head. My hands are trembling in my lap. Heat is blooming from my stomach to my chest, threatening to burst out of me at any moment because fucking fuck, I never thought Joel would touch me like this. Holding me tenderly, not because he’s patching a wound or inspecting one, not to get me to look in his eyes to stop me from passing out from pain; no, holding me because he wants to, because he wants to be close to me, wants to feel me like I want to feel him. 
At least, I hope that’s what he wants.
The way his eyes flick down to my lips gives me a little more confidence. 
“Joel…” I whisper into the inches of empty space between us. I can feel his hot breath brushing against my face. “Joel, you don’t have to…you don’t have to forgive me, you know that, right?” 
Surprising me, he laughs. Shakes his head a little, smiling at me with crow’s feet around his eyes, the sunlight glinting into the flecks of grey in his beard. Could I reach out and do what I’ve always wanted to? Touch him there, run my hands through the coarse hairs, maybe even feel them on my face? 
“I know I don’t have to,” he says, still chuckling. “But I do. Even though I wish you’d have made a different call, or at least told me you were leavin’…” 
“Joel…” 
“—I’d say we got pretty lucky, findin’ ourselves here again.” 
He’s so close to me now that I have to look between each of his eyes in turn. I could do it forever. He’s so close. I’ve wanted this for so long. 
I never thought I’d see him again. 
Let alone have this. 
“Yeah,” I manage to whisper. “Yeah, I’d say so.” 
“Now, if you don’t mind,” he shifts his hand from under my chin to my cheek, pressing his palm against my jaw and smoothing his thumb over my skin, “I’d like to do what I’ve wanted to do for a damn long time.” 
I nod before he even clarifies. I’d let him do anything. Fucking anything. 
He sighs before closing the distance between us, like he’s relieved. Like he’s saying, Finally. 
My agreement doesn’t make it out of my lips because he’s pressing his to mine, capturing my top one between both of his, and—
Holy shit. 
It’s the softest kiss I’ve ever had. 
So tender. Like he’s just testing the waters. Asking me a question. He barely even lingers for a few seconds. 
But, Jesus Christ. 
I find myself letting out an embarrassing whine when he pulls away and tries to meet my eyes, his eyebrows raising, checking it’s okay; but I can’t wait, I can’t fucking wait or hold back any longer—
I pull him in by the lapels of his coat and push my lips back into his, barely even having time to open my mouth. He groans against me and I feel the vibrations of his voice in my fucking mouth. 
It’s crazed at first, finding a rhythm; messy and uncoordinated but all I can hear is his lips sucking at mine and him trying to find his breath amongst the mess of our mouths. It doesn’t take long for it to flow, to work, to understand the push and pull of each other and I lean into it with everything I have. He’s breathing into my mouth, his breath hot and sweet, and his lips have gone from cold to hot in the blink of an eye. 
He’s got two hands on me now, grasping at the back of my neck with his fingers pushing up into my hair from the roots. My hat slips from my head. He uses the extra space in an instant, gasping happily against my mouth when he can get his fingers up the entirety of the back of my head, threading them into my hair. Goosebumps spread across my skin, and not from the cold.
At last, my hands are where they’ve always dreamed of being. On either side of his face, fingers running through his beard. I can hear it; the hairs brushing across my skin and under my nails. Lightly, I curl my fingers so my nails scratch his jaw. He likes it; moaning softly as he tilts his head to the other side, barely pulling off of me before our mouths are together again. 
Alas, though, as much as my hands have found their home, there is so much more of him to discover. One of them slides back into his hair and I swear to God he fucking whispers my name against my tongue as I take a handful and tug. 
Soon I’m shrugging him out of his jacket after pulling on the zip, and he’s doing the same, undoing each of the buttons on my coat while I suck kisses to his cheek, his beard, wherever I can get to him. 
As soon as our coats are on the floor, he unwinds my scarf and throws it on the floor, and makes the most of having new access to my neck. Hungry, he dives in, his mouth already open as he mouths at the expanse of my neck in long—but not long enough—kisses. 
“Joel, oh, my God,” I gasp when he sucks particularly hard on the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. My hands are in his hair again, anchoring him to me. A bolt of pleasure comes from my neck to my brain, goes straight between my legs. 
It’s as he kisses me again and I start to fumble with the buttons on his flannel that he makes a different noise in the back of his throat. A soft protest, I think. 
“Hey,” he pants, breaking off from my lips and taking a gentle hold of my wrists, stopping them in their work. 
I’m completely out of breath. I’ve not been this out of breath from something good in fuck knows how long. My lips are swollen, I’m sure they’re bright red, and I can feel wet patches on my neck. “You okay?” I ask with my hands settling on his chest. 
He laughs, breathy, “Never better. I just…want to make sure that we…” he has to swallow and catch his breath for a moment. As he does so, he lowers his head and kisses up my forearm, all the way to my elbow. His hands caress the underside of my arm like it’s something he treasures. “God, I want this to go further, but I said we’d be back in an hour and I know Ellie’ll come lookin’ if we’re not…” 
Still panting, I laugh a little. All I can do is press my forehead against his. 
He lifts up my hand and puts it over his heart. Even through the flannel of his shirt I can feel it pounding. A gasp pulls into my throat at the feeling. 
“Besides, it’s cold as hell, and I’d really like you to be warm and comfortable before we…” 
He’s right. Goddamit, he’s right. 
Resigned, I nod. We sit like that for a minute, just coming down, catching our breath. His lips are pinker than I think I’ve ever seen them. I think I was sucking at them even more than I thought I was; the pink colour fades gradually into his skin like smudged lipstick. I wish now that I’d had chance to suck at his neck, to mark him like I’m sure he’s marked me already. 
Then, it hits me. 
That I never even thought I’d get to touch his fucking beard. 
Let alone suck his neck.
“God,” I whisper, mostly to myself. My voice cracks a little, and I’m not sure it’s just from the blinding desire still throbbing between my legs.
“You okay?” 
“I just…yeah. Yeah, I’m…I’m really fucking good.” 
He laughs. Keeping one hand over mine where it stays on his chest, he brings the other up to cup the side of my face. Our foreheads are still resting on each other and his palm is so warm against my cheek. 
I’ve wanted this for so long. 
I have to tell him. He knows, but I have to tell him. “I’ve wanted this for…forever,” I confess, probably only finding my confidence because we’re too close for him to look at me. With my spare hand I hold the side of his neck, the tips of my fingers brushing into his beard. 
“Since the moment I saw you,” Joel’s voice is gravelly as he nuzzles his nose into my wrist, “I wanted this.” 
I can’t help it. 
I lean in and kiss him again. Close-mouthed and quick, but just because I can. 
He takes a deep breath. Holds it a minute, then lets it out, his sweet breath brushing against me once more. I want to taste it again. Feel it going into my lungs. Feel it on my neck, on every inch of me. 
“We should head back,” he says, reluctance coming from his very core. “You’re gettin’ cold.” He squeezes my cold hand. 
“You’re the one who took off all my winter gear,” I retort with a happy smirk. 
“Yeah, alright. You started it, though.” 
“Um, you pushed my hat off as soon as we got started…” 
“The hat thing was a mistake.” 
I remember how it felt to have his hands spread out over every inch of my head, and shudder. “Oh, no, it was no mistake, Joel.” 
He laughs. “Come on. Let’s wrap back up. I’d love to say we can pick up where we left off as soon as we get back, but I’ve got patrols today, and Ellie wanted me to take her riding…” 
I hold the back of his neck. As much as I absolutely would let him take me right here on this freezing wooden floor, I don’t mind waiting. For the first time in decades, I feel like we might just have time for it. Like everything doesn’t have to be a rush. “It’s alright,” I say, meaning it. 
“I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”
“Mm. I’ll hold you to that.” 
“Good.” 
After another—very restrained—kiss, we start wrapping up again and pack up to head back. In the back of my mind as we potter around each other, I feel the horrible tendrils of doubt try to creep in around me. Wondering: what if this is all too good to be true? What if there’s no way we can make this work? I was never even going to stay here, but does he want me to now? Is that where this is going?
But then Joel takes me in his arms before we step back outside, and holds me like it’s the first time. 
And it is, really. He’s only ever done this before when I’ve been hurt or sick. 
And for that moment as his hands press into my back, my mind is quiet.
{chapter 4/5}
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notes: thank u for all the support and love on this fic, it means the world to me, i'm so glad you're enjoying it! there's more where this came from and i'm just so grateful to y'all for reading this <3 ps: the next chapter will have smut (YAY)! also, if you're reading this the weekend i post it (21st jan 2023) then please send me smut requests for joel miller or din djarin <3 love u xo
taglist: @rosymythologies @lover1307 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @pinkrose1422 @lavenderhhze @abbyhaslongshorts @trippoverrt @emilianamason
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iratusmus · 10 months
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so bizarre to me when people give fiona a redemption arc like making her evil wasnt literally like the fundamental core of making her an actually interesting character. like . ok actually i was mostly planning on just leaving the post as this but im going to make a proper post whining about this because ive seen it far too often for my liking.
it appears to me that a lot of people do this because they dislike fiona/scourge which is like. sure i get it. but you could literally just... break them up . and have her continue being awful on her own. like scourge is not the reason she switched sides and i find the idea. 1) a bit misogynistic frankly but thats more of a personal gripe than anything else like god forbid a woman make bad choices of her own volition and not because a man forced her hand into doing it (YES i am aware that abuse makes this more complicated than that but also we .... already have a relationship in archie sonic that fits this exact bill. yes it wasnt written well but the wonder of fan works is that you can always make it better. so why are we repeating it again 1:1) and 2) demeaning to the point of her character.
like. ok. lets go over the facts real quick. as a kid fiona got put in robotnik's salt mines and got accidentally left behind bc sonic & co couldnt find her. she realized that nobody was going make the effort to go save her, so she dug herself out and started life on the run as a treasure hunter/thief. she didnt ever really accept the fact that sonic and mighty not saving her wasnt really their fault, and even after becoming a freedom fighter, nobody ever said anything or apologized or said "hey wow that kind of sucks you went through all that". she never really made any actual friends within the ff or formed any meaningful bonds. she starts dating sonic, but its pretty clear that the only reason they're dating is that she's his rebound post The Slap. the moment her history with bean & bark came up - after she used that knowledge to save everybody - sally immediately turns on her and sonic is the only person to try to stick up for her. as bark and bean leave, bean also insinuates that fiona isnt really a freedom fighter, and that she's still basically one of them.
fiona is a "bad" trauma survivor. when i say "bad" i mean in opposition to the ideal tumblr trauma survivor - the sad poor uwu bean whose trauma only inclines them hurt themselves and they become more sympathetic kind etc. as a result. fiona, on the other hand, blames sonic (whose fault this is, frankly, not) for her experiences, and becomes more jaded and mean. she has no real support system and people repeatedly tell her that she hasnt changed and that she wont change and she cant change. shes already got all this baggage by the time her relationship with scourge starts carrying actual weight - he's offering her a way out. if none of them are ever going to really accept her being "good", then she might as well just give into her worst impulses and join hands with scourge, who, notably, has no stake in this - he doesnt have any obligation to be her friend like the freedom fighters, and more than that he likes her specifically because of the part of her that everybody else hates. the important part here is that he encouraged her to switch sides, he didnt make her switch sides.
id say fiona's character in a writing sense is an exploration of the failings of the freedom fighters to support a trauma victim, and how those failings, while unintentional, lead that victim to specifically turn against them. she says "ok actually screw all of you guys" and gives up on trying to be good because nobody ever gave her any real encouragement and decides to put herself on a path of self-destructive revenge and inflicting her misery onto the general population. we can also recall at this point that this motivation is entirely removed from scourge and you can literally break them up and still keep her evil.
the other important point here is that she purposefully chose that path of turning evil as opposed to leaving the freedom fighters or going somewhere else or like literally doing anything else. she literally could have just left but she did not and thats what makes her Interesting. prompted by her unhealed trauma and personal baggage she made those bad choices for herself, and frankly i cannot for the life of me understand why people think that walking back that character development (and yes i mean character development. character development can also mean getting worse) for ..... what. snarky but with a heart of gold generic protagonist girl? come on guys
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sukunasweetheart · 2 years
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spending a slow day with sukuna.
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i. in the morning,
it’s been long since both of you have woken up, yet you’re still together in bed, chatting lazily with slow replies and muffled voices from speaking into your pillows. but once that morning sleepiness fades away, you start feeling a little cheeky. nuzzling into his neck, you breathe in deeply and tell him that he smells good, while holding back your laughter.
“fuck! that tickles- stop,” he says - but he is unable to halt his own chuckles.
you flop onto him, lifting his shirt up, only to blow air against the skin on his tummy, making an embarrassing noise.
“why, you!” sukuna growls, turning the tables and pinning your arms down onto the mattress, just to do it back to you. the room is soon filled with your shrill laughter - pleading him to have mercy while he’s smirking at you.
there’s visible dust flittering in the sunlight that sneaks in through the window blinds as you play wrestle with him - making a mess of the bed with wrinkled sheets and pillows plopping over onto the ground.
ii. while doing the dishes,
you stare the delicate, glossy sphere rise up from the dish soap bottle with awe.
“look, sukuna. a bubble,” you tell him, like a little child.
“hey, get your hands moving. your rinsing has slowed.” sukuna cleans up another plate and hands it over to you - accidentally popping the bubble as a result.
you gasp dramatically and pout, earning a confused look from him. but you get back to quietly rinsing the dishes soon after. sukuna gives you a little side look, before grabbing the bottle again to squeeze it lightly. it creates a large bubble - even larger than the one before.
“here. i made another one,” he says. you laugh at him endearingly and he smiles, watching as you stare at the bubble floating towards your face. it pops when it reaches your cheek.
“good lord. sometimes i forget what a big baby you are.”
you flick some water at him, and he pastes a fingerful of soap foam onto your face.
iii. when folding the laundry,
he holds up your lacy panties with a sly, wolfish grin. rolling your eyes, you launch his boxers at his face. you are unsuccessful, because sukuna just catches it with one hand. you start flinging clothes after clothes at him, until he’s sitting in a pile of freshly dried clothing.
“look at the mess you made!” he taunts, pushing the clothes back into one pile between the two of you.
“you started it.”
he chuckles and pinches your cheek - to which you swat away at.
later on, after everything was neatly folded and put into the closets and drawers, you notice from walking past the mirror how there’s a stain on your shirt. huffing, you walk over to the basket by the washing machine to take it off.
a whistle resounds behind you as soon as your shirt’s off, and a pair of arms come around your waist.
“hey there, sexy. can i take you home?” sukuna says with a flirty tone, adding a cheesy wink on top of it.
“i have a boyfriend,” you retort with feigned indignance, pushing him away.
“aw, too bad.” he lifts you onto his shoulder.
“i’ll take you regardless.” you playfully scream, flailing about, but not too much, and sukuna smirks as he brings you to the sofa.
iv. during a little nap,
you doze away softly, your body draped over his on the sofa. there’s the soft rise and fall of his chest, and the background noises from the tv can be heard as he flickers from channel to channel, looking for something interesting to watch.
the sound is comforting. he is comforting. you could sleep away for centuries like this. every now and then, you faintly feel the dense weight of his hand against your back or atop your head. it weaves you into your nap even tighter.
sukuna pulls the blanket over you higher, so that it reaches your shoulders instead of only your hips. eventually, even he ends up feeling a little drowsy. he gives in to the quiet atmosphere, and falls asleep as well - leaving the tv on unintentionally.
when the two of you wake up, the sun has already gone down completely, and there’s the familiar confusion that’s felt usually after a long nap - from the lost sense of time. when you meet eyes with his, there is simultaneous laughter.
he stretches his arms wide and completely, like a large cat. it’s coupled with a deep groan, and you feel it rumble within his chest. covering your mouth as you yawn, both of you just stay still for a couple of minutes, still feeling a bit dazed.
“i’m hungry,” sukuna suddenly breaks the silence.
“me too.”
“you feel like cooking?”
“no.”
“me neither.”
around thirty minutes later, your uber delivery arrives at the door.
v. at 3am - laying in bed together,
you turn for the fifth time on the mattress, unable to feel content in any sleeping position. sukuna does the same, but somewhat less restlessly.
when you begin staring at the ceiling, he abruptly lays onto his side, to look at you.
“we napped too much, huh?”
“seems like it,” you respond nonchalantly.
there’s another drawn out silence between him and you, until he decides to speak up again.
“you, me, we’re both wide awake. let’s go for a little walk.” he sits up.
“it’s 3am, though.”
“so what? who says we can’t take 3am walks?” he slides off the bed and begins to throw on a jacket, beckoning you.
“c’mon.”
so, here you are - out on the streets that are lathered with darkness, walking side by side with him. the air is cool, things are quiet, and there isn't anybody around. sukuna offers his hand, you accept it, and his palm seems to envelop all of your fingers completely.
"it's kinda cold," you say, shivering a little bit as you feel the next breeze hitting your skin, raising the goosebumps on it.
"yeah, i thought i told you to layer up a little more," sukuna responds with a voice that resembles the nagging of a mother. but he immediately zips down his jacket.
...except he doesn't put it on you properly. before you could slip your arms into the large sleeves, he's zipped it up while they were still bound to your sides. the sleeves fall limpy, and now you look armless.
"hey! put it on properly."
sukuna grabs onto the empty jacket sleeves and grins, pulling you towards him, using it like it was a weird leash.
"good girl," he praises mockingly, patting your head. you playfully lash out at him by slapping the jacket arm onto him with a little whap.
he comes behind you this time, bringing both sleeves with him, and then holds reign of them after he connects the two.
"giddy up?"
"my god, if you don't stop-" you tell him while laughing. after getting your arms sorted out, you send a few more slaps his way, as revenge for all the teasing.
it's safe to say that the two of you snoozed away like babies that night - after spending all that energy.
fin.
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Tagging; @ry0chann @skunaskitten
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punsmaster69 · 4 months
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26/NOV/20XX
was i really awake?
can't remember yesterday.
it's cold.
i can feel a heavy exhaustion radiating through my body.
this journal and the red-lidded plastic containers to my right are the only familiar things here with me.
in the containers are some cold thanksgiving leftovers; no stuffing.
somehow, that made me feel a little better. papyrus is the only one who knows i hate that 'stuff'.
a low, electronic hum is the first sound in the room,
second sound being the quiet tap of my feet hitting the tiles as i stand.
the floor is freezing.
an iv stand connected to me squeaks as i move.
having one of these connected to a skeleton is always an odd thing, so i followed the iv cord until i found where they attached it;
directly to my soul.
there's a flatscreen mounted to a corner of the room.
the pitiful look of a skeleton in scrubs reflecting back to me on the dark screen makes me want to turn away,
but there's something off about his gaze.
normally there'd be two little white dots — his pupils — in those sockets.
there's just the right one now.
i took a look at the door, and wiggled the knob a little.
with a click, it opened.
i was met with a shocked look from my brother, who was speaking to a doctor and nurse seconds before.
those seconds were short, because he quickly ignored everything to crouch down and hug me.
couldn't tell what he said, and i don't know if he really wanted me to, with the way he mumbled teary words against my shoulder.
they ushered me back through the door i'd just left, and papyrus was sent back to a waiting room. they mentioned it being "where the others are."
hearing their familiar voices echo down the hall when the door was opened for a moment made me want nothing more than to bolt down there.
the weight of exhaustion kept me in place.
——
they spoke to me about my eye for a while, and what they said exactly is blurry...
(much like that eye)
but i remember the next part vividly.
the nurse summoned everyone else into the room, questions falling silent as the doctor spoke.
"Monsters don't usually experience this at all, since magic usage comes so naturally to us."
the doctor took a deep breath as they found a way to eloquently explain what's wrong.
"Your friend has put up these... walls."
"He's keeping this stone-faced, unreadable appearance..."
with a painted claw, the nurse tapped against the back of their clipboard a few times.
the doctor had a second thought, causing a blue feather atop their head to sway with the tilting motion.
"...Intentionally or not.."
"It's doing a lot of damage."
"Sans is suffering from a...
𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗰 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱,
of sorts."
"The easiest way I can explain it is like a glass of water."
"A glass of water that's permanently filled to the brim, in Sans' case."
"Over time, droplets slowly fall into the glass."
"For most, this is a positive thing. It's just the regeneration of the magic we use daily."
"By adding to something that's already full, however..."
"It's going to overflow."
"When that glass overflows, Sans' soul goes into panic mode."
"It grabs the towels, and shuts off all the electronics in the area."
"...Which is to say, it shuts down Sans' natural eyelights. Or, in the worst case scenarios, shuts 𝘩𝘪𝘮 down."
"His soul tries to clean everything up. Spewing random attacks; turning on the painful magic like a lightbulb.."
"Soaking up the overflow by force."
"And it does this with the efficiency of... someone trying to jam a lightbulb directly into their power outlet."
gesturing towards their right eye, the doctor continued.
"..That's already broken once before."
a look of realization dawned on the faces of toriel, flowey, and alphys.
papyrus kept his head down.
he was there for the last one, after all.
i turned away before i had to see the expressions that followed the ones of realization.
"The fact that something didn't explode sooner is a miracle."
surprisingly, flowey spoke up.
"..Will it come back?"
"Or go back to normal, at least?"
"That entirely depends on how everything goes."
toriel raised a hand politely.
"What are our next steps to ensure his improvement?"
"Encourage him to express himself properly more often. Find different ways to drain water out of that glass."
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