#brain is pure molasses now

[koenki]

Hand Holding HCs - Reverie Audios

Part 1/2 cause apparently it's too long to put everyone in one post-

Kane: Don't know if he will be getting his own listener later or what the future holds but will keep this one a lil generic for now While large and imposing, Kane seems like the type to be gentle with what he cares about. The type that would take his (potential) partner's hand in his to lean down to kiss the back of it. Staying bowed like that a moment while his lips linger, he would look up to catch their gaze, a knowing smirk on his face when he see's their face flush and muscles tense. He knows exactly what he's doing to them, and loves every second of their flustered responses. Dion: I imagine anything formal he does know how to behave, gentlemanly behavior if it's what he's tasked to do; he could joke around and smile and imitate what Kane did but more impish and playful But when it's chill- where he is with his relationship with Bunny now I could imagine him dragging bunny around by the wrist as they're walking around, as they slow down it goes to holding Bunny's hand like cupped, and at some point, if Bunny is comfortable to it cause Bunny seems to go with the flow a lot so wouldn't push too much, they would be the one to lace their fingers together- Likely catching the flame demon off guard in a sweet moment before he holds on more securely. Desmond: The relationship with Love is very respectful to each other, slow pacing and gentle. There is a lot of asking permissions between them. Early on, Love was the one to initiate, at first it would be a touch to the wrist and pulling back with a soft apology before Des gives the okay. It becomes habit, not out of fear but sometimes words aren't needed, just a quiet sign asking for permission. As Desmond gets more comfy he'll be the one returning the gesture, and taking their hand securely in his, they'd give each other lil squeezes of assurances. The hold is never too tight either, easy for the other to be able to slip out of the others should they want/need to. Ellis: I can just picture them sitting together on a stormy afternoon at home with Gem; on the couch reading respective books under a blanket, kinda cuddled against each other, Eggs purring up a storm as he rests on one of their laps, probably Gem's. and at some point in the comfort and quiet they hold hands under the blanket. Maybe the first time it happens Gem looks to Ellis in surprise before grinning and going back to their book, but leaning against each other like this was cozy and warm. If Eggs sees this he's gonna meow and demand attention, so either one of them has to let go of the other to pet the floof, or a book has to be put down. Either of them are comfortable to initiate the touch. Gage: Sweet boy loves the physical contact more than anything, this is his love language; Can't get enough. If he and Bug are in the same room but aren't close enough to touch, something feels off and it has to be fixed. Hand holding is an every day thing and both will engage on it. From wake up kisses in the morning on the hands up to meeting their lips, to driving in the car with one hand on the wheel, one hand in the other's to drop Bug off at work on his way to his own. This man could have both hands in a cast and be like "Buuuuug, touch pinkies with me." While they literally would be cuddled up together on the couch. Law: This man much like Gage is not afraid of physical affection and will take Sweets hand in his so long as his hand isn't full with a rowdy 3-year-old already. With Nat sitting up on papa's shoulders, and Sweets hand in his as they walk through the park, it's a peace like no other- until said child wants to make a break and run free. He loves getting to hold them, starting with the hand and pull them closer, dancing in the living room to no music to whisper sweet nothings in their ear when they're alone. Maybe Law also wants to live out some romcom fantasies with the piano in place now, teaching Sweets a few songs by guiding their hands across the keys. Do they actually learn anything doing this? Probably not, doesn't mean it isn't fun.

Neo: Foxy-boy initiates. Not cause Darling won't or doesn't want to, but because they wanna encourage him to take lead if that's what he wants to do. First few times it was a lil shaky, gentle, but he does so confidently now, because every time he takes the lead for it, it makes Darling have that beautiful toothy grin of theirs that he loves. When it's late at night and Darling is behind him, arms wrapped around, he will put his hands over theirs, thumb rubbing over the back of them in small circles until they both fall asleep.

#reverie audios #Kane #Dion #Desmond #Law #Gage #Neo #Ellis #writings #what did I just do #?? #sorry I'm so sappy #brain is pure molasses now

[gottagobuycheese]

sometimes I wonder where this flagrant disregard for personal safety comes from and then I have to yell at my mom not to stick her head in a live fireplace so I think that’s at least one mystery solved actually

#genetics is just a giant circle #and the circle is a target sign #to be fair I did ask if the chimney was open so that's on me #but I thought she would've waited #I absolutely would've done the same (and have done similar) #but SHE'S the adult so SHE should know better #...actually I guess now we're both the adult #gross #Cheese's personal molasses #[older colleague voice]: but why didn't you just turn off the radiator before sticking your hand behind it to grab what you dropped? #WELL IF I COULD TURN MY BRAIN ON AT WILL WE WOULDN'T BE HAVING THIS CONVERSATION NOW WOULD WE #anyways nothing and no one is on fire so I will jot that down as a success #the personal record for most days alive in a row continues #the rest of the fire for this evening will be purely digital #(well aside from the fireplace) #if I finally get around to it instead of nitpicking this stupid hair for the rest of eternity #would LOVE to be able to post this without descending into the headache that is coloring #but tragically this piece was conceived for the sole purpose of the hypothetically Cool Colors #now just to see if I can actually pull it off...

[agirlcandream84]

How Frank Would Comfort You After Scaring The Shit Out of You

Summary: Frank was away for days and you hadn't heard from him for the last 72 hrs. You assume the worst.

To me, this is smut.

Word Count: 1,005 (4 min read)

Warnings: Angsty Frank, guns, insomnia

-----------------

At this point you were surprised you were still even functioning with your mind so preoccupied with Frank. Yes, you often knew little about his trips and the only bits you could piece together were often the scattering of wounds across his body when he came home but he had always come home. This time was different. You had lost contact with him at least 3 days ago, the last text from his burner phone just a brief "love you." Frank never went silent for 3 days, no matter the trip.

Anxiety ravaged it's way through you, destroying your appetite and rendering you a forgetful, jumpy mess. Sleeping was a laughable pipe dream, tossing all night and jolting awake with a gust of wind. You, of course, began assuming the worst about him, anguish enough, but you'd also convinced yourself that whoever Frank was after was out to get you next. You were Castle's girl afterall, that had to amount to something or some sort of collateral.

By day 5 you were barely functioning at work and on so little sleep you were seeing hallucinations. Nothing grand or absurd, just little movements out of the corner of your eye, like a bug shimmering and fading. Jumpy at every movement. Heart pounding when a man looked your way a little too long. Despite your deep desperate desire for sleep, your mind couldn't shake the feeling of a threat looming.

That evening you had managed to finally fall fitfully asleep at 3am, only after 15mgs of melatonin, some Nyquill, a weighted blanket laying heavily across your shoulders and one of Frank's guns tucked on the bedside table. He had once taught you how to use it, urging "I mean it sweetheart, you gotta learn this," and you had just followed along, chuckling at the absurd idea that there would ever be a time that Frank wasn't there to protect you.

The single quiet click from the front door opening was enough to jolt you upright in bed, your body moving before your mind barely caught up. Your heart is hammering in your chest so hard that your ears can hear nothing but woosh woosh woosh as your hands scramble for the loaded gun. Your eyes find the clock, 3:47am, but your mind can't make sense of the number. Your mind can't make much sense of anything, clouded with sleep aids and adrenaline, except pure panic.

You manage to find your feet on the floor, the shaking in your hands progressing to your whole body and you make it two steps before crashing into the dresser and sinking to the floor. You hear steps approaching, heavy leaden thunks, and hold the gun out in front of you, shaking so badly you couldn't even hit a cruiseliner if you tried. Your eyes are still struggling to adjust to the darkness, handicapped by the Nyquill and debilitating tiredness, one of those damn imaginary bugs skittering in the corner of your eye.

The knob turns slowly, at least it felt slowly, everything seemed to have the sensation of moving in molasses but also at the speed of light, and the door starts to swing open. You hear the sound of a terrified sob before realizing it was your own, as the hulking shape steps into the door frame.

"Pppplease. Please don't, ppplease. God, please don't" you're mumbling, a prayer or a chant.

"Sweetheart?," says the voice into the room. Your eyes squint to make out the features, gun still pointed into the space between you, shaking violently.

"Sweetheart, it's me," it says again, taking another slow step into the room, crouching to your position on the floor.

"ppppllease, please stop," you mumble, begging your brain to catch up.

Frank lifts his hands, palms towards you for a moment to show he's unarmed and says "Sweetheart, I'm gonna take that gun now ok?" He asks it real slow, soft like he'd ask a kid.

You nod your head in agreement but your hands don't move, the gun still aloft and rattling. He reaches forward slow, his eyes locked on yours, as you feel his calloused hands slip around yours, the gun being pulled slowly from your grip and tucked into his pants.

Frank.

Frank.

Your eyes take him, finding the shape familiar.

Frank.

Your brain catches up and apologies begin tumbling out of your mouth. "S'sorry Frankie. Didn't know it was you. S'sorry. I was so scared," you mumble, your eyes still blown wide in panic and your body still tremoring in fear despite the threat disappearing. The sorrys devolve into heaving sobs almost instantly, wracking their way through you. Choking for air.

"Ssshhh ssshhh sshhh, no honey. Shit sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry," he murmurs as he scoops your form flush to his body, his hand cradling your head as he presses your tear-stained face into his chest. He shushes you as he rocks gently, the sounds muffled by the kisses he's planting on the top of your head.

"Thought you were dead," you choke out, your sobs renewing as you wind your hands into his shirt in fists.

"Things got bad for a minute sweetheart but I'm here. Not gonna leave you," he replies, the quiver in his own voice undeniable. "Hang on to me," he murmurs as he wraps your legs around his waist and stands, his arms pressing you so firmly into his body you nearly lose your breath.

Your body felt like lead in his arms. The moment Frank saw you he knew he'd put you through hell the last five days. The deep purple shadows hugging your eyes. Your form more gaunt than when he left you. The tremors he still felt as he held you to his body.

He sits on the bed and reclines against the headboard, shifting your body to lay across him with your head rested at his shoulder. You don't loosen your grip on his shirt, the adrenaline leaving your whole body tense but your mind so fucking tired.

"Want you to sleep now sweetheart. Can you do that for me?" he rumbles into the top of your head. You shake your head yes, sleep felt like a tidal wave consuming you and everything around you, and murmur, "please stay."

"I'm here. I'm right here," he replies as a lullaby of I'm Sorrys in Frank's arms puts you to sleep.

#frank castle #frank castle fanfic #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle smut #frank castle fluff #frank castle fic

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

"...We're two sides of the same coin, aren't we?"

The whispered confession falls clumsily out of Pure Vanilla's mouth, almost dragged out, bitterly sweet and strange on his tongue. The words are addressed to his own stained candy glass visage, spilling tendrils of bright blue light across the Solarium of Unity despite the almost suffocating darkness invading the rest of the space.

He knows this isn't really the Solarium of Unity, and he knows he isn't just speaking to a window. The lurking shadows, thick like molasses and blinking every once in a while, give that away. Even if it didn't, there is a haziness here that exists only in dreams, and a lack of the deep tiredness that has been plaguing him as of late.

"Oh, are you finally ready to admit that?" Sure enough, Shadow Milk Cookie's voice comes from all sides, far too cheerful. The candy glass melts and warps before him, the blues darkening until Shadow Milk stands in his place, far more detailed than the artisan silhouette he replaced. His grin is mocking as he looks down at Pure Vanilla, who cannot help but feel uncomfortable at the sight of their appearances blurring together like that, even though he had been expecting something along those lines. "Too bad though – you can't admit something that's wrong!"

"Huh?" It catches Pure Vanilla by surprise. It had been difficult emotionally, but logically straightforward to admit they were two sides of the same coin. He couldn't imagine how that could be wrong, and acting upon an old habit from his student days, he finds himself frantically unravelling that conclusion in his head again to figure out the issue.

Shadow Milk doesn't give him the chance, tutting as he shakes his head in mock disappointment. "You must have a brain in there, can't you use it?" He laments theatrically, contorting himself into an odd shape against the edge of the window pane. Then, again barreling on before Pure Vanilla can reply, "Look, think of it like this. To say we're two sides of the same coin means that we have similarities, even if we are otherwise opposites. That is true to an extent, but it makes our differences sound way more clear cut than they actually are. It may be easier for you to believe, but we aren't really opposites. That would imply I am not whole, and I can assure you, Soul Jam aside, I am just as I always was!"

Ah, so it's a matter of wording. Pure Vanilla isn't sure why he is entertaining this - no, it's because he doesn't want to give Shadow Milk the satisfaction of turning away from the truth. Even now, Shadow Milk's eyes squint cheekily at him, daring him to try and end the conversation.

"Then... we are made of the same components in a different composition." Pure Vanilla tries, a little frustrated with his own hesitance, but it is difficult to tell how Shadow Milk wants him to answer when he isn't making it blatantly obvious.

"So close!" Shadow Milk sighs dramatically as he snaps his head to the side so sharply it makes Pure Vanilla wince, imagining the cracks that would cause on any other Cookie. "But you're relying on technicalities. It's much simpler than that."

It dawns on Pure Vanilla, then, exactly what Shadow Milk is aiming for, the realisation making his insides crawl. He doesn't have to say it, not really, but he isn't sure what Shadow Milk will do if he doesn't, and he unfortunately doesn't have the ability to wake himself up on command.

So he takes a deep breath, fidgeting with his staff as he says, even less than a whisper yet twice as loud. "We're... We're the same. Is that what you wanted me to say?"

"Ding-ding-ding!" Shadow Milk trills, suddenly reaching through the candy glass to grip the window frame and lurching forward across the threshold, leaving a mess of shattered glass behind his head like a halo. It startles Pure Vanilla, who instinctively shifts his foot back, only to be instantly locked in place as the reaching shadows soldify around his legs, its eyes winking up at him playfully. His grip on his staff tightens, willing it to shed its light, the beginnings of panic stirring within him at the restraint. The staff does, but the shadows seem to eat the light without a problem.

Pure Vanilla is so distracted by the shadows that he doesn't notice Shadow Milk's hands until they grab his face. His heart jumps in alarm, and his eyes dart up to find half of Shadow Milk leaning down out of the window, far too close. He is grinning at him, wide and self-satisfied, and his hands are cold and harsh. "See, I knew you had a working brain! Yes, the right answer is that we are one and the same."

He pinches and pulls at his cheeks, and Pure Vanilla tries to cringe away, tries to manuver his staff between them. It doesn't work, if only because hands emerge from the darkness to anchor his staff too.

"But that isn't true." Pure Vanilla mumbles when he isn't able to wiggle his way out and Shadow Milk still shows no signs of stopping, hoping the argument will make him lose interest in his face. "I admit that there are similarities between us, but we aren't really the same."

Shadow Milk pauses, his grip tightening until it borders on pain, and for a moment, Pure Vanilla thinks he may have miscalculated.

But then Shadow Milk snickers to himself, releasing his face entirely and pulling back, his hands resting lightly over Pure Vanilla's shoulders. The brush of weight keeps Pure Vanilla from relaxing, but it is a bit of added distance, at least.

"Aren't we? Well, you are the biggest liar, so I should have expected you would lie to yourself too." Shadow Milk hums, almost sounding delighted at this turn in conversation. It unnerves Pure Vanilla, because he had assumed his disagreement would annoy him.

Instead, Shadow Milk smirks, his many eyes glinting gleefully at him. "Listen carefully, Vani, because here's the truth." He says, his voice dipping into a wicked purr that seems to shudder through Pure Vanilla's whole body. "All the things you hate that I have done, you have the capability of doing too. After all, you've already used people for your own gain, haven't you?" Shadow Milk leans closer with a condescending lilt to his words, shifting his hands so he can wrap his arms loosely over his shoulders, and Pure Vanilla freezes under the touch. "Oh, I know you think it was necessary, but you still sent those naive, tiny Cookies off to carry out your errands for you, regardless of the dangers. That's only a few steps behind what I've done, you know, making people dance to my tune. The only difference between us is severity and time."

The words sink heavily to Pure Vanilla's stomach, not quite true but not quite not true, and he feels a little lightheaded, fingers twitching against his staff. Maybe it's because of that, or maybe it's because of his discomfort from the close proximity, but he finds himself distracted by the way Shadow Milk is talking. He carries his usual air of showmanship, but it is nowhere near as exaggerated as during his brief takeover of the Faerie Kingdom. With his insistence of specificity, his mention of technicalities, his structured method of explaining things, he almost sounds like a–

"We are the same," Shadow Milk repeats, tilting his head to the side, the glow of his eyes burning holes through Pure Vanilla, "and one day, you'll end up just like me."

A scholar.

That makes sense – at some point, his virtue had been Knowledge, and nobody seeks it out as fervently as a scholar – but it still feels like a surprise. Pure Vanilla had always known that Shadow Milk was different, once, but only in the sense that the fact existed in the back of his mind.

"No rebuttal, hmm? Are you ready to accept that?" Shadow Milk asks smugly, slightly impatient with Pure Vanilla's lack of response, but mostly watching him expectantly, as if waiting for a bomb to go off.

Pure Vanilla has never thought about what Shadow Milk might have been like, before he became like this. There was no reason to even consider it. But now, he can't help but wonder, because while he cannot imagine this chaotic, brutal Beast, this great unknown evil, as anything else – Shadow Milk still carries echoes from a past life that he doesn't seem to notice enough to hide with his lies.

"...If we are the same," Pure Vanilla finally scrapes his thoughts together enough to reply, carefully, "then doesn't that make the opposite possible too? That, one day, you will become like me and return to the light?"

Shadow Milk blinks once, his face falling blank. He blinks again, all of his eyes in quick succession.

And then he throws his head back and laughs, the movement jostling Pure Vanilla in the process with his arms still firmly around his shoulders. It sounds unhinged, ricocheting across the room, but it is openly amused. It makes Pure Vanilla antsy, especially with how it rings in his ears like an explosion from their closeness.

He wonders if Shadow Milk's laugh was different, before everything. It must have been. He wonders what it sounded like, and immediately realises that he's being ridiculous. The realisation that a before exists seems to have opened the floodgates in his mind, and now thoughts of hypotheticals can't help flitting in.

"You say such silly, silly things." Shadow Milk bites out offhandedly as his laughter winds down, the lingering remnants still dancing on his tongue. Without warning, he pulls Pure Vanilla even closer, the darkness that had been keeping him in place swirling and shoving him forward. Pure Vanilla gasps, the sound catching in his throat, and one of his hands fly off his staff to reach for something to steady himself on. It finds an edge of shattered candy glass, flinching back and falling down to scrabble against its smooth, intact surface.

Shadow Milk is giggling at him and Pure Vanilla is mortified, horribly so. They are far, far too close, Shadow Milk's face taking up the near entirety of his vision and their upper bodies almost pressed together. It feels claustrophobic, which should be impossible in such a wide, open space.

Shadow Milk makes matters worse by pressing their foreheads together, the gesture weirdly tender and doing nothing to make Pure Vanilla any calmer. His bright blue eyes look directly through him, dissecting him piece by piece.

"Why don't you cut down the Silver Tree and find out?" Shadow Milk coos, his voice overlapping with the Light of Truth's in a deeply unsettling way. His presence is overwhelming.

Pure Vanilla's eyes flicker downwards to escape his piercing gaze, and finds their chests so close that their Soul Jams are overlapping. Overlapping, and not touching, because Shadow Milk's Soul Jam seems to fizzle out of existence where the other makes contact with it, as if it were an illusion. Behind it is an empty space, black as the abyss. With the way they are lined up now, it is obvious that Pure Vanilla's Soul Jam would fit perfectly into the crevice with a little turning. He knew that already, but it still feels strange to see it.

Pure Vanilla sighs, a long, thin, shuddering sound. "...You didn't truly believe that would work, did you?"

In the edge of his vision, Shadow Milk smiles tauntingly, all teeth, but he doesn't say a word.

And Pure Vanilla wakes up, off kilter, exhausted and oddly cold.

[next]

#sm flirting: hey wanna debate the fluidity of ur identity and morality and have a crisis? wanna make out over it? #if ur confused dw i was confused writing this too. sm strikes me as the type to say the most convulted stuff for funsies #also he is scheming. idk what exactly but he certainly is!! #and poor pv is just along for the ride #pure vanilla cookie #shadow milk cookie #shadowvanilla #vanilla milkshake #echo paradox au #the biscuit library

[ex-mortis-evie]

Hypnosis has so many cool little concepts, right?

I mean, it’s an infinite art form, so of course theres gonna be a lot of cool little things that can be imagined with hypnosis.

But there’s one concept that I absolutely love, possibly more than any other: the mad scientist.

And how could I not?

The idea of an obsessive know-it-all experimenting on the mind, investigating every nook and cranny to see exactly what makes you tick.

It’s such a compelling idea, her words becoming the control that drives you further into her own research.

And hey, I know there would be no complaints for being her little Guinea pig.

Just imagine the bliss when she starts shocking the mind with little jolts that send shivers of joy throughout your body.

The idea of her caring and careful hands rubbing over your head, massaging your brain while she takes measurements and notes.

Her research becoming your actions and thoughts.

After all, being in that brightly lit room can be a little daunting, I know.

But her words just sound so tempting, don’t they?

“You can relax knowing that I’m here now, dear.”

Yeah, she may be manipulating you a bit, but it’s hard not to fall when she’s that careful in the way she caresses your mind with her words.

And it’s not hard to imagine her face, a bit overworked and sleepy-looking yes, but one that looks so comfortable to just stare into.

Her blue eyes, like two glistening stones in the ocean, seeming to pull you in within the waves of her words.

They’re so distracting that you haven’t even noticed how absolutely relaxed you’ve become here within her little fantasy.

How her eyes and words have spiraled you into this almost dreamlike state, where the tingles of her words and actions seem to be meshing into your reality.

And hey, it’s alright if her words have really dug that deep already.

Or if the words you’re reading have been her words this entire time.

It feels good either way, so just relax and let her words in.

After all, there’s not much of an escape plan here.

You’re already under those warm lights, letting her blue eyes stare into your soul, as if the ocean itself was washing over your brain.

Those warm lights and those blue eyes seeming to numb every part of your body into pure molasses, so relaxed and slow.

You’re probably so far gone already that you haven’t noticed her rubbing all around your scalp yet.

Seeming to draw little marks with her marker, sending a tingle of delight with each little brush.

Moving and playing with your hair, sinking you even further into her homely hands.

And those sweet nothings she’s whispering into your ears.

You can faintly hear her words.

Relax.

Obey.

My good test subject.

Submit.

Succumb.

Sleepy.

Drowsy.

Drool.

It’s all making so much sense to you now.

You’re just a good test subject.

Letting those words run through your head as it gets emptier and emptier.

Feeling as she writes on her clipboard, using your head as a base to write on.

Every word of hers like gospel to your eager ears, her words captivating and corrupting you further into her control.

And how could you pass this feeling up?

Her control is so absolute, so deep and bountiful that you can’t help but fall into her lap like a good subject.

You probably haven’t even noticed that her hands have started moving all over your body.

Placing little electrodes all over you to measure out every feeling within you.

Each one sticking to your skin and sending those pleasurable tingles you crave so much.

And your brain’s simply drooling out by this point, so deeply enamored by whatever she has to say that it’s not even a debate anymore.

You’re a good test subject.

You’ve accepted this fate.

And you’re so incredibly willing to be experimented with.

She keeps whispering in your ears, her words blurring and slurring all within that brain.

Yeah, the words you’re reading may be her words brainwashing you further into obedience.

And yet, you’re not really complaining.

Not an ounce of you even thinking about fighting back against her control.

Speaking of her control, have those restraints always been there?

Those warm restraints around your wrists and ankles, keeping you still for her?

Maybe they have or maybe they haven’t.

It’s not something to worry with.

Just like how you haven’t been worrying about how deep you’ve gone.

Her words, mixing your brain into a mush like a good chemical concoction.

Slowly building a connection with chemistry with her words that slush your thoughts more and more until they simply disappear.

Like a gas, they start to dissipate and fall away from you.

But there’s not a worry in that little head of yours.

Just her words and that overwhelming sense of servitude.

Like you have to obey her.

You have to serve her.

That’s what makes a good test subject, after all.

And you’re just such a good test subject.

Allowing her words to compel you further along until you realize just where you’re at.

Those warm lights and blue eyes have become this endless swirl of lights and sounds that you can’t even picture anymore.

You’ve just become so drugged up on her words that the world around you has become an endless spiral of lights and colors to lose yourself in.

And yet, you can feel every inch of her control.

Every movement of her fingers across your head.

Every mark of her pen as she writes down note after note.

Every word in that head of yours bouncing around.

Your subconscious becoming her thesis.

Your mind becoming her theory.

Your brain becoming her experiment.

You being her good test subject.

And then, you start to spiral so much deeper again.

Maybe it’s the gas mask she’s fitted on you that’s pumping pure pleasure into your lungs.

Or maybe it’s just the newfound SNAP of her fingers that’s sent your brain into a tale spin.

And as you spiral away, there’s just one phrase repeating in that little head of yours.

You’re a good test subject.

Until then, stay cool.

Reblog, comment, whatever you feel like doing.

And try not to go too deep for crazy ladies, capiche?

#hypnosis #hypnotism #brainwashing #mind conditioning #mind control #brain drain #hypnotized #covert hypnosis #hypnok1nk #hypnodom

[michaelmilligan]

Endversetober Day One: Run

(explanation post) (compilation post)

Adam ran.

While he'd never been very interested in running, or sports in general, it turned out he was kind of good at it. At least given the right motivation.

Being chased by zombies was a pretty solid motivation, it turned out.

When you said that the world was in a 'complicated state', he said, purely in his head, because he needed his freaking breath to keep running.

YES? The being in his head answered idly, but loudly. (Which seemed to be the only volume he had available.) It still made Adam jump every time he talked. Every time the blue hot molasses of archangel moved inside of him, stirred next to his... mind? Soul?

Because apparently souls existed, like, for real. And angels and God and all of that were real, too.

Why, then, were there fucking zombies coming after him?

I didn't exactly picture this, Adam said as he broke through a treeline. And came to a grinding halt as he spotted even more zombies ahead of him. Ah, fuck.

He winced when he realized that particular thought had been sent to the archangel in his head, but Michael only reacted with mild interest.

WHY ARE YOU EVEN RUNNING? he asked.

So I don't get eaten by freaking zombies. Again.

AGAIN? Michael echoed, but the matter of how Adam had died took a backseat as the zombies advanced on them. GIVE ME THE BODY.

Wha- Before Adam could consciously move away – however that even worked, giving up control of your body – Michael pushed into the driver's seat.

For a moment, everything went black, Adam being cut off from the senses of his own body. Then, when he was oriented enough to look again, the zombies were all dead.

Well, deader than before. Actually unmoving now.

Wait, you can do that? Adam asked incredulously.

I'M AN ARCHANGEL. DID YOU REALLY THINK A FEW SLOBBERING, CORRUPTED HUMANS COULD HURT ME?

Then why did you let me run from them for ten minutes?! Maybe it was inappropriate to blow up in an angel's face – mind? – like this, but Adam had really been toyed with and eaten alive by gruesome monsters  more than enough.

IT WAS HARDLY EVEN FIVE MINUTES, Michael just said. I SUPPOSE I NEVER SHOULD HAVE LET YOU TAKE OVER THE BODY IN THE FIRST PLACE.

No no no, that part isn't the issue!

Honestly, Adam had no great desire to pilot the body when there was apparently a zombie apocalypse going on, but he also didn't want to be trapped in the back of his own mind, stuck just watching said apocalypse play out.

Which was funny, he supposed, because he had said yes to helping with the whole actual apocalypse business. Like, end of the world, ushering in paradise, all that good stuff, apocalypse.

Is this what brings about paradise? he asked cautiously. Zombies eating everyone's brains?

Sure, he'd never expected the end of the world to be filled with rainbows and unicorns, but this... this seemed off, somehow. Weren't plagues only sent by God as punishments?

THEY DON'T EAT BRAINS, AS FAR AS I KNOW, Michael said cagily as he manoeuvred Adam's body over some debris.

Whatever had happened in this town, it hadn't been pretty, judging from the thrashed store-fronts and the partially crumbled buildings all around them. There were bodies, too, and Adam felt the urge to check them for life signs, to see if there were any survivors. But his body currently wasn't his, and besides – what if those people did stand up again, and tried to take a bite out of him?

Out of them. They were two now, a human and an archangel sharing the same body.

Weird times apparently called for weird measures, or whatever.

What are we doing in the middle of the hot zone, anyway? Adam asked for probably the third time. But it wasn't his fault that Michael was bad at giving straight answers, or that Adam was anxious as hell over everything that was going on down here.

When they'd entered the fenced-in zone, he had asked Michael about radioactivity. He'd just said that Adam didn't need to worry about that.

He hadn't exactly told him what to worry about instead.

Which were apparently freaking zombies.

Michael gave something like a sigh. It was admittedly difficult to interpret an archangel's thoughts, the flood of images, sounds and colours always overwhelming. But Adam was pretty sure that the strong gust of wind that almost mentally knocked him over was a sigh.

AS I ALREADY TOLD YOU, WE'RE LOOKING FOR MY LANCE. AND GABRIEL WAS LAST SEEN IN THIS AREA.

And Gabriel is the guy who nicked your lance?

A wave of something else overwhelming crashed against Adam, like the tide throwing him over, then pulling him under.

Holy moly. Was that amusement?

YES, THE ARCHANGEL GABRIEL IS THE 'GUY' WHO STOLE IT, Michael said.

Right. Of course it was another archangel they were talking about. Because what even was Adam's life. (After-life? Second life?)

Why did he take it?

HM?

Why did another angel take your lance?

I'M NOT SURE. POSSIBLY SPITE. Michael stopped in front of a building, sizing it up and down with Adam's eyes for a moment before ducking inside.

Angels can feel spite? Adam asked, astonished. This didn't line up with what Pastor Joe had been preaching him. Aren't angels supposed to be perfect beings?

WE ARE, Michael said, but only after a pause.

But there's infighting?

GABRIEL IS... WELL, HE RAN AWAY AND FAKED HIS OWN DEATH. THAT SHOULD TELL YOU EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW.

He what??

IT WAS ALL VERY DRAMATIC. Another Adam-was-pretty-sure-it-was-a-sigh. HE'S ALWAYS BEEN PRONE TO SUCH ANTICS.

Huh. Since when have you guys known each other? Adam asked as they climbed some stairs. He wasn't sure if Michael thought the lance was here, or if he was just looking for a good vantage point or something, but he didn't question it.

SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIME. When they came upon a hole in the steps that was too big to jump over, Michael stopped again. It looked like something had fallen through the steps – oh, yeah, the piano that was lying crushed on the ground floor could have been the culprit.

Adam would have wondered how he could even see that from all the way up here, but the casualness with which Michael had mentioned the beginning of time had thrown him for a bit of a loop.

Oh, right. Yeah. Of course two archangels had known each other forever. What had Adam been thinking?

There was a sudden lurch, as if their body was violently thrown through space and time and any other dimension that existed, and then they were suddenly standing on the other side of the hole in the stairs.

What the fuck was that? Adam asked when he'd caught his metaphorical breath again.

HM? Michael just made, continuing his trek upwards.

That... how did you... the hole...

I FLEW OVER IT.

That was flying?!

YES.

They'd arrived at the top of the stairs, and Michael pushed open a security door that had somehow survived whatever had wrecked the rest of this place. It creaked pitifully for a moment until it popped off its hinges and fell, with a slightly comical delay, forwards onto the roof.

It was a flat roof with a low wall surrounding it, made out of the same grey material as the rest of the building. Adam's grandfather would have thrown a fit over this, ranting about accumulating rain water and snow.

HM, Michael made again, but this time not at Adam.

At least Adam was pretty sure of that.

What is it? he asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

I DON'T THINK GABRIEL IS IN THIS TOWN ANYMORE.

How do you know?

HIS TRAIL ENDS HERE. Michael stepped closer to the edge of the roof, letting Adam's eyes roam the surrounding buildings.

Wait, you're tracking him? How?

I HAVE MY WAYS.

Adam sighed. Mentally. It wasn't like he had control of his lungs right now.

He wasn't even sure if Michael was using his lungs, if they were breathing at all.

Got it. The archangel Michael works in mysterious ways.

THEY'RE NOT VERY MYSTERIOUS, I JUST DON'T THINK YOU'D UNDERSTAND, Michael said easily.

Wow. Rude. Adam scowled (again, mentally), then quickly added: I mean, you're probably right. But still rude.

Another wave of amusement hit him, throwing him off balance. By the time he was oriented again, they had already flown somewhere else.

#Day One!!!! #Starting off with some pre-relationship Midam #There'll be more explanations of what's going on in later entries #Endversetober #Midam #Quick writing

[ambiguouspuzuma]

skin

her beauty isn't just skin deep; just breathe her in, be your own judge. one taste enough to make you weep; rich honeyed tears, like liquid fudge, run down to glaze your trembling cheeks. she's eye candy, the sweetest thing; her voice pure syrup when she speaks, and that's before you've heard her sing. but soon your salivating gaze begins to mist, starts to decay, behind a milky yellow haze. she's too rich to drink in that way; thick like molasses, thin like cane, too refined for the likes of you. the tartar calcifies your brain your eyes gum up with honeydew. she watches your blood-sugar rise, your sickly pulse begin to race, as your arteries caramelise into a mess of strawberry lace. your lips, now encrusted with plaque, open into a cavity, you plea to her retreating back, one more taste of depravity, but she leaves you behind to rot: her work is done. she's played her part. calling, before your fatal clot, for your sweet heart. for your sweet heart.

#poetry #poem #escapril

[cappurrccino]

boy howdy learning about what sort of food crimes went on before government regulations existed sure is uhhhh horrifying

#//juri speaks #''we watered down this swill-milk and took away the cream so let's add chalk and molasses to make it white and then put pureed brain on it #to replace the cream! no one will notice or die from this!'' #''oh we have chemicals now? sweet we can slather than on rotten meat and sell it as good as new!'' #19th century spices were like... 100% just fake bullshit #ground cloves and mustard? nah turns out it's all just shit like burnt seashells or charcoal or coconut shells!

[violetnotez]

HC: Seeing Them Shirtless for the First Time | JJK

Should I be getting ready for work? Yes, yes I should be 💀

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Music Genre: Rock | JJK

Characters: Gojo, Itadori, Megumi 

Warnings: cursing, suggestive content

Music Collection | Tip Jar | Requests!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Shop Owner Note: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS ONE-Gojos in particularrrrrr

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

The first time you saw Gojo shirtless was during your first time being intimate with him.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Gojo was just-perfect. You honestly couldn’t describe him any other way...yeah, he could sometimes be a pain in your ass with his boyish antics, but that somehow adds to that special charm he possesses. Even now, with his hands pinning yours above your head, lips molding into yours in a lustful heat, he was smiling as if he was having the time of his life. Gojo moved down from your lips, finally allowing you a second to breathe, instantly finding a spot on your neck, sucking and licking the skin as if his life depended on it. The sensation was overriding your system, your throat desperately trying to release a groan from the overwhelming sensation, intense heat traveling through your core. You felt him find the spot you were most sensitive in, that held back groan finally being stolen from your swollen lips. Embarrassment burst into your stomach, your knuckles tightening as you shifted to to the side, desperately trying to hide your face from making such a lewd reaction.

You felt Gojo chuckle against your skin, the vibration sending a shock wave throughout your spine and limbs. “Ah, Cmon doll, don’t be so shy,” he cooed, a devilish smirk encasing his features, “I like it when you make those little sounds for me.........and only me, right?” It was a taunt, a trap, and he knew it-if Gojo Satoru was anything, he was always confident in his abilities. And his ability to completely be able to control you, to keep you by his side, was no exception. Any other day, when you were thinking clearly you would Probabaly retort back with a back handed quip that would make him chuckle. But right now, with your head buzzing with adrenaline and only the thought of the way his skin felt against yours, his kisses burning into your flesh and the pulsating heat in your core...you just wanted him.

“Only you,” you whispered, voice wavering with nerves and adrenaline as your digits found the edge of his shirt, craving for more of his skin against yours. Gojo chuckled again, the sound warm and rich like molasses. Yet, his hand since again were on top of yours, now halting you in your pursuit of undressing him. “You really wanna do this doll? I’m not against it, not at all, but you dont have to-“

“I want to,” you interjected, face flushed with desperation, eyes wide with lust, “I want to so badly Gojo...I want you.” Gojo’s chest tightened at the words, a feral need exploding in his chest-god, the times he dreamed of this day and it’s finally happening...you were just too adorable, your hair tosseled from the heated make out sessions, lips puffy and skin so warm, your eyes practically begging him to devour you. How could he deny you that luxury, especially since you wanted it so much? He leaned in to your lips, digits tracing your skin in designs only he could imagine. He pulled away, mere centimeters from your skin. “You sure little one?” He asked again, using the nickname he gave you that always made you roll your eyes with a smile. It did just the trick, making you giggle at the name as you looked to the side-“I’ve always been ready, ya know.”

“Oh really?” He teased, that delicious smirk gracing his features. He leaned away from you, sitting up in the bed. “Well, I’m not too sure about that....” His digits wrapped around the hem of his shirt near his neck, pulling the fabric over his head and tossing it to the corner of his room. Gojo shook his hair out slightly, making the tendrils look even more chaotic than before. You felt your chest tighten by the sight of Gojo shirtless....you had imagined many times before, but seeing the real thing was way different, and way better. Gojo was built as perfectly as his personality, each muscle taught and visible in his abdomen and arms, the veins in his hand even more noticeable in the lighting. You gulped, staring at the way his sweatpants accentuated the dips of his hips, following down to the waist band of his boxers peaking out from his sweats.

Gojo noticed every gesture you made, loving how you drank in his form as he hovered over you. “Why don’t you take a picture-itll last longer,” he said as he leaned into your ear, earning a playful eye roll form you. He chuckled at your reaction, leaning back into your body, hands trailing the side of your waist. “Well if you’re not gonna take a picture....I don’t think it’s very fair that I’m the only one shirtless here....” your felt his digits find the hem of your shirt, teasingly tracing your skin under from underneath..

“So how about we change that, hm?”

The first time you saw Itadori shirtless it was by pure chance- He just cant seem to remember to bring a spare tshirt into the bathroom when he showers.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Yuuji cant seem to understand why your so flustered- he is so adorable and innocently oblivious its almost painful. Especially when he comes out of the bathroom from a shower, cotton candy pink hair still dripping with water droplets, slick adomen in full view, the “V” of his hip bones partially exposed from the band of his sweatpants. You just wanted to have a chill movie night with your boyfriend-but how can you think about choosing between a horror or a comedy when you have that in front of you? You gulp down a ball of saliva as Itadori casually talked about the different options of films, rummaging through his drawers for a clean shirt as if this was all a normal event-which it was not. Your eyes were glued onto him, drinking in every deifned dip and curve and trying to hold yourself back from thinking about...other ways this cozy date could end up....

But Yuuji knows you like the back of his hand....he knows when something is wrong with you, and you most deinfitely are not your self right now. He instantly begins to ask you questions, voice softly laced with worry. You reassure him your fine, really, but Itadori knows you way too well. He gently raises your chin with his pointer and middle finger, forcing you to look into his eyes. Your breathe gets hitched in your throat, brain suddenly and unbelievebaly clouded from being so so close to him, now knowing that the boyfriend you love so dearly looks like a damn god under his clothing making your heart ram against your chest. His voice was comforting and warm, eyes scanning your face for any sign of sadness or even maybe sickness. 

“Whats on your mind?” he asks gently, trying to coax a response out of you so he can put his worries at ease....until he hears the words “your abs”, blurt out of your mouth at warp speed, your tone dazed and then immediately embarrassed, horror on your face for saying soemthing so honest. He blinks a few times, clearly not expecting that to come from you....but he would be lying if he didnt say he enjoyed it once it set in. A warm chuckle tumbles out of Itadori, that bright boyish grin plastered on his face. He really didnt mean to make you so flustered,..but he’s not complaining

The first time you saw Megumi shirtless was by force-he just hates being taken care of when he’s hurt.

Crimson red clumped against Megumi’s face, sticky and smeared glimpses of his pale skin glowing under the moonlight. His hair was matted down to his face from the slashes oozing out of his head, suit was slashed to bits, his ribs were killing him, and he had a limp on his left leg...but he was fine-honestly. Or that’s what he was trying to tell you...but you wouldn’t listen to a single second of the bull crap he was trying feed you. He was conflicted with emotions-on one hand, it almost annoyed him how utterly selfless you could be for him. It was 1am, the moon on its highest peak in the sky, and you were willing to play nurse for him....but on the other, it warmed him up inside that you did care so much. If he would allow himself to dwell on that emotion, he would admit-that it was .... nice....to have someone take care of him for once. He was used to bandaging each wound on his own, cleaning and disinfecting the soon to be battle scars, hissing to the walls at the pain it caused him. But with you there, you were soft, so gentle with him. Your touch was like a second adrenaline rush for him-you had yourself cradled in his lap, the skin of your thighs barely crazing his tattered uniform. Hands gently positioning his hair, pushing the wispy jet black strands away from the wounds.

“I can do this on my own,” he retorted quietly, his voice a few octaves lower from fatigue. “I bet you could..” you completely ignored him, continuing to busy yourself with closing a scrape on his skin with butterfly bandages. “-but why would I let you?” Megumi felt his breath hitch, taking a sharp breath in....any type of annoyance he felt with you being so god damn persistent instantly left his body, the only thing he can focus on was how much he loved your selfless nature-even if it could be annoying at times. But the instant he took in that deep breath, he felt a deep, guttural pain in his side, making him groan before he could stop it from spilling out of his mouth. That soft gaze you had turned to worry, your hands wrapping around his face, thumbs running smooth circles on his pale skin. “Your hurt....we’re going to need to-“

“N-no, I-“Megumi stuttered out, obviously flustered by the prospect of you seeing him so bare. “I-I’m fine. I can do this on my-“ his voice was stern and cold, yet the wavering tone made any attempt of sounding firm go invalid. You gave him a small smile, your fingers still running circles against his skin, making him look at you with nervous eyes. “Megumi, you are not fine,” you stated calmly, with eyes that simply said the opposite-you were genuinely worried for him. “please...you could have broken a rib, or done soemthing to cause a lot of damage...please, Megumi, I don’t want you to be in pain anymore.” You were asking him, pleading with him, and it broke Megumi in his core-he just couldn’t stand to see you look that scared for him of all people. Megumi sighed, eyes drifting down to the floor in hopes you couldn’t see his embarrassment as he gave in to you.

You helped Megumi shuffle out of his uniform, opting to cut it with some scissors halfway (as it was tattered to shreds already). Both of you were quite nervous...in your relationship, you had never down anything that would warrant for you to see each other’s body’s. So you being able to see him without a shirt felt like a huge step, even if it wasn’t such a big deal to an outsider. Once the fabric was finally off, you both sat in silence, your minds reeling. You knew Megumi was fit, but seeing exactly how much that work paid off brought heat flooding your body, your eyes focused on the way his breath contracted and relaxed his muscles, the moonlight catching the divots of his lower abdomen deliciously. Pale white Scars littered his skin from training, making his body even more mysterious to look at. Each scar was a story, some sort of battle, a lesson he had to learn...you wanted to learn about each and every one. Your hand felt drawn to them, digits slowly checking for signs of bruising, purposefully tracing those scars in order to burn them to memory. Fushigori was practically panicking, desperately trying to keep his heartrate lowered, the cool night air biting at his heated skin as your digits traced against his sides. You were only trying to detect the spots that could be damaged on his abdomen...but damn was it firing something inside him. He was feeling more comfortable like this, just relishing the feeling of your skin on his.

© Violetnote 2020

None of these characters or shows are my own, only the storylines and narratives I create are mine. Copying, stealing, plagiarizing, rewording, or using my storylines in other media, claiming to be your own, or reposting without my consent is not allowed.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #jjk gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo x reader #gojou x reader #jjk gojou x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo satoru x reader #yuuji x reader #jjk yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji #itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x you #itadori imagine #jjk itadori x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushigoro x reader #jjk megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen megumi #fushigoro x reader #jjk fushigoro x reader #jujutsu kaisen fushigoro x reader

[nochuvalencia]

𝐁 𝐁 𝐇 𝐌 𝐌 - jjk

I was basically inspired by these ^^^ pics of jk bc wow hot hi

⚠️ ALSO QUICK DISCLAIMER :: this is my first fanfic on here so it might be terrible but enjoy anyway. ⚠️

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 :: reader x crimeboss!jk

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: bitch you better have his money.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 :: ABSOLUTE SMUTTY FILTH heh angst too ig

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 :: 11.9k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 :: long haired tatted jk, that’s it, that’s the warning, uh kinda sketchy plot hsjsjsj, WOW ANGST ASF at the beginning tho, dub!con towards the middle don’t hurt me, fuck or die ig, gunplay????? yeah????? jks BLATANT OVERUSE of pet names, dacryphillia, major-ish character death, describing the injuries on a dead body, jk has a sir kink ig??? um excessive over exaggerated choking bc jks hands yum, explicit seggs, rough jk, he’s kinda mean, dom!jk, sub!reader, oral m&f receiving (facefucking on both ends), coochie sniff if you squint, coochie slaps if u squint too, spanking, OVERSTIMULATION, unprotected seggs, degradation, he calls her a bitch once idk, other bad names, praise too ig, jk gives an ultimatum, SLIGHT aftercare, he kinda like switches from flirty to murderous like a bunch of times it’s kinda weird, jk has an impossibly huge shlong obv, contemplating death, super mature themes, reader is a BIG fucking crybaby, overuse of the word fuck, corruption kink at the end if u squint super hard, also DUB!CON in case you didn’t see it, at this point I should just write what it doesn’t have

“If you’re not out of my house in 3.4 seconds, I'm dragging you out by the testicles” you uttered, your alarmingly calm voice laced with raw brutality as hot tears cascaded down your burning cheeks, your arm outstretched and pointed toward the blinding light of the hallway that contrasted with your dark bedroom. You said nothing more, with your eyes trained angrily at one of the four blank tan walls nearby, not possibly being able to bear speaking to or sparing a glance into the eyes of a cheating whore. The woman you had just caught him with scurried past you wearily, a terrified and confused glint in her eyes as she passed your frigid frame sans underwear, with her sparkly silver pumps dangling from her fingers and a wrinkly silver dress hanging limply from the clutches of her other hand. The man in question shuffled cautiously around the bed, clutching the exposed parts of his body and approaching you with extreme hesitation and outstretched hands, as if trying to calm the already blazing flames of your fury. He laid a cold, rough hand on your shoulder squeezing softly, a motion that once brought you comfort but only added the all consuming hatred that bubbled up inside you akin to ravenous bile filling up the pit of your belly. “Did you not hear what I said? Get out.” You spat, glossy eyes still pointed toward anything but him.

“____ please” he croaked, like the slimy frog he truly was, his voice dripping in false agony which only neared you closer to the brink of undoubtedly committing an act of extreme violence against that man. “Please baby it wasn’t-'' you blanked. He was about to make an excuse. A stupid, rediculous, horrible, completely false excuse which you had absolutely no patience to hear. So you snapped, harshly shrugging your shoulder and sending his arm flying back to his side. He stepped back, ceasing his incessant chatter as he stared at you, a surprised expression painting his “pained” features. He wasn’t accustomed to you acting like this, you were never one to raise your voice or act out in any sort of way so he stood there, eyes widened in dumbfounded silence and you took this chance, bending down, scooping up as much of his discarded clothing as you possibly could and throwing it in his face, your rage bubbling over into something much more carnal as you inhaled deeply through your nose.

“Shut the fuck up and leave!” He scrambled to catch as many clothes as he could and was taken aback by your abrupt outburst. He stood silent once again though this time, he was making the face he often made when forcing himself to cry. It was the face he made around his mother to get out of family responsibilities. The face he made around his friends when guilt tripping them into buying him drinks, and now he's using it for you. To guilt you into taking pity on his pathetic actions which merely was the catalyst for your unforgiving violence. In an instant you were behind him, heaving him out of the door with your bare hands, pushing with all your might, using the immense pain coursing through your limbs as motivation to drive his beefy frame further and further out of the bedroom, down the hallway, into the living room and closer to the door yelling “I said leave! Leave! Now!” Pushing harder and harder with every word you choked out. The tears began to flow faster, clouding and distorting your vision as your face contorted into an expression of pure anguish until finally, he was forced out of the open doorway and into the main hallway of your apartment building. You promptly slammed the door in his face and the only thought traveling though your mind was ‘thank god she left that door open’ because you wouldn’t have been able to force him through it otherwise.

You stood silently for a few seconds, back to the door, face still slick with tears as the cool wood on your back shook senselessly with every beat of his fist and muffled shout of his voice crying phrases like “____ open the fuking door!” , “this is my apartment too baby come on” and other variations of the sort. Your mind was empty while you remained there, letting the harsh reality sink in like the slowest molasses. You allowed that man, that pig, to take 10 years of your life. 10 years of your prime. 10 years that you'll never get back no matter how much you beg and plead for it. Come to think of it, you had shaped your entire life around him. His influence was there no matter how much you wished it wasn’t. His residue staining your life like the blackest ink of which you would never be able to rid yourself. At the surfacing of these thoughts, you’d finally broke down and cried, like ugly cried. Broken heaves and sobs escaped your throat until you felt like you were suffocating as you slid down the door, not caring if he heard your wails and whines of torment on the other side of the polished mahogany. You actually hoped he did hear, you wanted him to hear the anguish and grief he put you through. You wanted him to hear you cry out all of your attachment and love for him until there was none left, so he knows the tears flowing from your body hold all of the affection you harbor for him. All ten years of attraction flowing out in a gigantic tsunami of grief that can only end in a new start.

Your mind played through all the memories, and the small amount of good times you had with each other while you sobbed mercilessly, also coming to the realization that he never did anything for you. Ever since you were 14 you’d been changing everything about yourself for him, while he merely lived his life, dragging you along like a supportive little puppy and rewarding you with cheap token gifts and mediocre sex once in a blue moon.

He wanted to attend university in your hometown so you abandoned your dream school, which accepted you, to attend a closer college. He made the decision to study abroad, so you had to drop everything and move to Australia for him. He wanted to wait to have kids so you froze your fucking eggs for him. He got a great new job at a large company in Asia, so you dropped everything again and moved to South Korea. You learned Korean for him. You have the same friends as him. You even cut a few family members off because he was “uncomfy” around them. He wouldn’t even go down on you because it also made him ‘uncomfy’, which should’ve been a red flag from the start. You did all of this bullshit in the haze of love. The promise that he’d reciprocate all of it in affection and adoration, which he didn’t, and now you’re sitting in your living room bawling your brains out because you were too lovestruck to see the signs.

After sobbing hysterically for what seemed like hours, you’d sat limply in front of your door, slouching back onto it as if it were a plush armchair and staring blankly into space, your mind completely empty. Feeling overwhelmed and exhausted beyond belief, you leaned forward, groaning in anguish as your tired muscles cried out in distress after being immobile for more than four hours. Crawling over to the couch, you tiredly flung your nearly paralyzed body onto the soft cushions with a sigh, not even bothering to pull the fluffy throw blanket over your body as your entire frame began to steadily shut down. Before your eyes completely shut, you caught a glimpse of the clock perched on the wooden tv stand which read 11:11 and scoffing quietly as you thought to yourself, ‘I thought that was supposed to mean good luck’ and you gave in to the delicious expanse of slumber.

You were startled awake by the incessant pounding of your now ex-boyfriends fist on the door, again. For the past 4 days since you’d forced him out, he’d show up outside your door at the ass crack of dawn just banging on the door profusely, as if that would persuade you to open it an inch. He had a schedule, he’d come at 5am, before he went off to work, then at 12:30 on his lunch break, then again at 9:45 just to make you miserable before you went to bed. You’re actually surprised the neighbors haven’t complained to the landlords yet. You tossed the blanket off of your sticky body, kicking and thrashing wildly due to the annoyance caused by that nuisance.

You cried more times than you can count during these last 4 days, especially during the times he would attempt to win you over with sappy shit like “baby, you’re my everything, you’re all i’ve ever wanted”, the lyrics to one of your favorite songs or, “you’re my forever ____, you can’t just throw 10 years away babe” to which you cried about for 3 hours after he’d said it, after realizing that he actually wasted 10 fucking years of your life. Anger bubbled up in the pit of your stomach as you listened to the repetitive banging of his fist and at this point you had enough and came to the decision it was finally time to pack his shit. Stomping into the living room, you grabbed a necessary box of bags that sat on the coffee table in the center of the room, figuring you were ready to use it. With a final nod of your head, you marched into your shared bedroom and opened all of the cabinets and drawers that contained the plethora of his belongings and flinging them on the floor, grabbing the box of xl trash bags you’d snagged on your march in here and started tossing things in left and right, not caring about the brand name or the state of the fabric or anything for that matter. All you saw was red as your eyes welled up with tears for the first and probably not last time that day.

“I can’t do this” you sobbed out, voice hoarse as you fell to your knees, ignoring the rugburn that was soon to form on those areas as your shoulders shook with every harsh breath you took. You had been dreading this task. Dreading it only for its significance that once you packed all his things and tossed them out, your relationship would be truly over. You definitely didn’t want him back but this would be the first time you’ve been alone in 10+ years and you were not certain you were prepared for that let alone wanting it. Inhaling shakily, you sniffed, ridding your face of any moisture as you cleared your throat and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of chardonnay from your anniversary that fell on the week prior and venturing back into the closet to resume your task. You weren’t much of a drinker but for this task, you’d need a bottle or two.

A few hours later, he’d finally went off to work and you sat in the doorway of the closet, drunkenly dressed in the wedding gown you were made to be wed in this summer still combing through all of his clothing and tossing them messily into a bag that laid open on the floor beside you. You took a swig from the bottle, hissing softly at the satisfying burn that seared it’s way down your throat and rubbing at your puffy eyes with the knuckle of your index finger. The closet was mostly bare, except for a rack with some of his clothes and one rack of semi-expensive clothing his cheap ass reluctantly purchased for you and you glanced around, catching a glimpse of some ugly floral fabric in the corner of the small space. Getting on your hands and knees you reached a limp hand out, taking hold of the horrendous fabric and dragging it out with a groan, eyes wide at the surprising heft of the object in your hand.

It was a pillowcase. A pillowcase full of something brick shaped. You raised an eyebrow quizzically before reaching into the bag and pulling out a fat stack of cash. Taking a sharp intake of breath you paused, staring blankly at the wrapped wad in your hand and cocking your head to the side. You peeked over into the bag after a few minutes, eyes popping out of your skull as they feasted on more huge stacks of money. It was Korean currency but there had to be at least 250k USD worth in the entire sack. You furrowed your brows, tossing the money back into the pillowcase forcefully as a tornado of thoughts whirled in your mind. Had he been saving behind your back? Was he planning on getting rich then eventually hanging you out to dry for some younger girl? How long has he had all of this? Where the fuck did it all come from?

You looked back at the money then back at the corner you found it in, squinting as you spotted some more ugly purple fabric. Crawling behind the clothing earnestly, you managed to fish out 4 more pillowcases full of money. You stifled a laugh, having never been in the presence of so much currency, you guessed it had to be more than 1 million dollars. You smiled for the first time in 4 days, lips curling up into a wide joy filled expression as you dumped all of the money onto the rugged floor of the closet. With all of the alcohol coursing through your veins, (almost a whole bottle) you didn’t hesitate to grab the biggest tote bag you own and stuff as much money as it could hold inside. You figured it was the least he could do after cheating on you.

He deserved to pay, and you obviously deserved a raise.

It was a full on shopping spree. After throwing all of his shit into bags, you tossed them outside your door and left with as much money as you could carry before he could come back on his lunch break. You even came back to get some more money, just to go out and spend it again. To say you splurged would be an understatement, you spent almost half of the money on clothes, shoes, a hair and makeup appointment, a manicure, a new car, and you even paid rent for six months after taking his name off the lease.

So here you were, struggling up the stairs as quick as you could, due to the fact that it was 9:30 and you were trying to avoid seeing him at his 9:45 visit. Your feet screamed in agony in your new jimmy choo pumps, because you’d been on them all day, and you had at least six shopping bags hanging from each arm, all full with an assortment of gaudy items such as shoe boxes, makeup products, and clothing. You had finally reached the door after a while, smiling at the absence of his bags which meant he took them and swiftly unlocked the door, clamoring in and tiredly dropping the bags in your hands. With a sigh, you locked the door, running a hand through your freshly styled hair as you rid your face of the designer sunglasses that shielded it. Kicking off your shoes, you hummed gratifyingly at the pleasurable feeling of bare feet and shuffled over to your couch, plopping down on the end cushion groggily.

A soft buzz in your back pocket caught your attention as you carefully fished out the new phone you purchased and unlocked it with your perfectly manicured fingers, raising an eyebrow quizzically as the texts rolled in, ‘i thought i blocked him’ you thought, preparing to do it a second time before a few texts caught your attention and you froze on the spot, chuckling heartlessly at his words.

[phone] : whose car is in our parking spot?

[phone] : did you already move on?

[phone] : wow whore

You rolled your eyes, wondering where he attained the gaul to accuse you of a feat such as that. Calling you a whore as if that name isn’t suitable for himself. Even more so than you. You decided to text him back, feeding off of an unknown source of confidence as your fingers furiously tapped along the screen.

me : it’s my car asshole

me : bought it with the money u left me

me :thx baby <3

[phone] : what money?

me : the money in the closet you didn’t bother telling me abt u dumb fuck

[phone] : don’t use that money

me : why should i listen to you?

me : you aren’t my bf

[phone] : no seriously ____ don’t use that money wtf is wrong with u

me : already did bye babe

You blocked him as quickly as you could, face burning with absolute anger as you tossed your phone on the cushion beside you. Who is he to tell you what you could or couldn’t do? You had come to the decision then and there that you wouldn't let him treat you like a child. He wasn’t your dad. Thanks to him you barely speak to your dad. The only thought going through your mind at the time was ‘fuck him.’ Before you could delve into your thoughts any further, it started. His incessant pounding on the door. Again. Although, this time it was much more frantic, desperate. He was much louder with his pathetic pleas and whines, crying out “please don’t use that money!”, “Listen to me god damn it!”, “___ open the fucking door now!” But you stood your ground, ignoring him once again as you did for the past few days.

Just to escape the racket of his wails of desperation, you retreated to your room, slipping on one of his expensive balenciaga sweatshirts you kept for yourself and climbing into the cool blankets, burying yourself under the plush fabric and folding your pillow over your ears. You knew this would be the longest night of your life..

And you were correct, It was the longest night of your life. He never truly got the memo that you would not be coming out to communicate with him so he finally left at around 1:30 in the morning. You had slept horribly, tossing and turning as the aftermath of his cries and pleads left a print on your mind and tormented you at all hours of the night, you didn’t manage to get any real sleep until around eight and woke up a mere five hours later in a state of confusion. It was well past noon and yet it was silent, you had woken up of your own volition, not because of some crazy man outside of your apartment screaming like a banshee. In due time, you had come to the conclusion that he had finally given up and gone about his day without banging on his ex-girlfriend's apartment door like an idiot at all hours of the day.

This theory was almost set in your mind until you heard a knock. Groaning violently, you stared up at your ceiling, eyebrows furrowed as you erased that theory from the whiteboard in your cortex. Fully prepared to ignore the person at the door, you rolled over to your side until another knock was heard. This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be him. The knocks were way too soft, they lacked an element of urgency, desperation. They were simply just way too calm. So, you sat up, swinging your legs over and reluctantly standing up, before making your way into the living room to be greeted with another knock and a smooth male voice calling out. “Miss ___ ___?”

You glanced wearily though your peep hole to be met with a tall male, dressed in a blue and white uniform. “Looks like a cop. He called the fucking cops on me, shit.” you whispered to yourself, voice small as you held onto the door handle. Figuring it’d be worse to make him wait, you opened the door, being met with the warm, dimpled smile, of the decorated individual. “Yes, i”m ____” you respond, shoving your hands into the pockets of your sweatshirt and looking everywhere but him, which probably seems more suspicious than anything but you were too riddled with anxiety to care. The officer clutched a navy blue manilla folder in his hand and opened it promptly in order to sift through its contents.

“Hi, i’m officer Kim.” he breathed out, calmly bowing and resuming his apparent spiel, “do you know this man?” he pondered, raising an eyebrow quizzically as he pulled a photo from his folder with calloused fingers and lifted it, spinning it around to face you. Your eyes widened slightly upon being shown a picture of your ex and you nodded hesitantly.

“He’s my ex boyfriend- well ex fiance I guess.” you responded, voice barely audible as your mind raced faster than the speed of sound. You asked yourself what he could’ve done that was bad enough for the police to show up at your door. Maybe you had been too harsh on him and he had gotten into one to many bar fights, maybe he robbed a bank at gunpoint, maybe he stole some old lady’s car and filled it with off brand mayonnaise before he returned it. All your questions- all your thoughts stopped as Officer Kim responded, running a tired hand through his hair.

“He passed, earlier today.” he paused, giving you time to digest things and you froze, staring at his face blankly as your mind processed what you had just been told and you hummed questioningly, your throat becoming tight with realization. “It happened around five this morning,” he paused again as you stood in complete silence. Sure you hated him but you’d never wish death upon another person, especially him. You hate him now but you were in love with him once too. You hate him now but, he was the closest person in your life. He was all of your firsts, your fiance, your best friend. You thought you wouldn’t be able to get all of that back because of the breakup but now you truly can never get any of it back, because he’s dead. Then, you started to cry, for the hundredth time this week but this one was different. You weren’t crying because you missed him, or wanted him to come back like all the other times, as horrible as it sounds. You were crying because you felt bad. Because of his short life that was ripped from him by the unforgiving hand of death. You weren’t crying because of him, you were crying for him. A hand on your shoulder interrupted your sobs and you wiped your face, glancing up at the culprit with glassy eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss...” he paused, giving you a few moments to breathe as he rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before speaking again, “but we have an idea of who did it, it would be helpful if you just came down to the station with me for some questioning.” he asked softly as the shaking sobs and whimpers that came from your body slowed to a halt and you nodded.

“Yeah, uh. Let me just go get dressed.” You muttered, smiling up at him softly and shuffling back to your room to prepare. The longest night of your life was about to turn into the longest day.

And you were correct again as you stood in front of your apartment door after the absolute, and I cannot stress this enough, longest day of your life. Your ex was murdered, brutally, and they made sure to go over all of the gory details with you while you were at the precinct, they even took you to see his body, which made you cry because it was mangled almost beyond recognition and you were horrified. Apparently, he had been tortured for hours, which explained all the bruises, gashes, and burn marks on his body, strangled, thus the huge ring shaped mark around his neck, and dumped into a river, which made his body all pruny and wrinkled. You had spent 10 long hours at the police precinct and it was now nearing midnight as you fished your keys from your pocket in order to unlock the door. Inserting your key, you jiggle it around in the lock for a minute before realizing it was already unlocked initially. Figuring you had left it unlocked accidentally in your depressed haze, you pushed your way into your apartment and locked it promptly, pressing your forehead into the cool wood of the door. You sighed softly, relaxing only for a minute as you absorbed your surroundings before freezing as you heard the rhythmic tapping of someone's foot.

“Long day huh?” the voice was deep, one you hadn’t heard before as you remained facing the door, your grip of the handle tightening until your knuckles turned white. He spoke again, “you must be ____.” he murmured softly, sending a terrified shudder down your spine. “I’ve been wanting to meet you but he said you were off limits. You know, he talks about you a lot-...” he stopped himself as if realizing something, “well talked, I mean.” the man mused, an ominous chuckle flowing from his mouth.

“Who are you?” you rasped, attempting to conceal any cowardice but blinking your eyes harshly as your voice broke. You vaguely hoped this was one of your ex’s friends coming to visit, at an odd hour of the night, sitting ominously in the dark of your apartment waiting for you to come home just to say hi but the chances of that actuality was very slim.

“None of your business” the man retorted, a smirk evident in his ominous tone. “Now, let’s get down to business little dove,” you furrowed your brows at the nickname. You had never been called a nickname, especially by a man who randomly just snuck into your apartment one night. Your ex only ever called you baby or babe so little dove was different for you. It seemed endearing in the worst type of way. “I want the rest of my money.” he paused, “I found half of it in a closet here, and he said you might know where the rest is.” he paused again, only this time a sound is heard, a metal rattling of some sort that ricochets off of the walls of the apartment like a stray jumping bean in a pill case. Then it hits you, he has a gun, and he just shook it as if he intends to use it. . “Don’t make me ask again sweetheart.” Your eyes widen and well up as your head falls down, knowing you're going to die today and you take a deep breath, telling yourself you’d be ready for whatever happens so you decide, if you’re gonna die, you should at least know the name of the man that’s gonna kill you so you scrape together every last drop of confidence you can muster and ask once more.

“I said, w-who are yo-” you choked out, in an attempt to hold onto the last shred of your dignity as you blinked back the tears threatening to fall from your glassy eyes. However, your small shred of confidence is promptly ripped from your grasp as the man cuts you off mid sentence, slamming his gun down onto a hard surface with a loud clatter. You jolt, crying out softly as the tears you’d been holding back with all your might fall onto the ground before you.

“I said none of your fucking business bitch where’s my fucking money.” he spat, his sinister tone draing a choked sob from your thoat as you realized, you wouldn’t be getting anything you wanted today. “Answer me” he said, alarmingly calm as the sound of him cocking his gun travels directly to your mind.

“I spent it” you muttered between your soft hiccups and stiffened slightly upon hearing a heavy footstep approach you, then another footstep, and another, and another until they cease, and you can feel the man's warm breath raising the hair on the back of your neck. All your readiness for whatever happens and willingness to die flies out of the window as you lean your head on the door once more, taking a shaky breath as you begin to plead, aware of how pathetic you sound and part of the reason why you have such a strong urge to cry harder. “Please don’t kill me” you whined desperately as you feel the cold metal of the gun barrel resting on your shoulder.

“Relax little dove” he whispered, his lips brushing the back of your ear and sending a chill rushing through the entire expanse of your body. “Just find a way to pay me back and we’re even,” he continued calmly, his raspy voice reverberating in your eardrums as you think through what he just said carefully. You gasp and sniffle, shaking your head softly and lifting it slowly from the wooden door frame.

“I-” you stopped, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself as much as you could for his response then opened your mouth to continue. “I don’t have that kind of money” you whispered hesitantly, shutting your eyes tightly, allowing nothing to escape but the numerous tears that fell to the ground in anticipation of his actions. There was an eerie silence as he contemplated your words before he abruptly turned away, lifting the gun from your shoulder and holstering it in the waistband of his jeans, causing you to let out a wavering breath you’d been holding that entire time. His hand traveled back up, taking refuge on your left shoulder as the other hand made its way up your right arm, the warmth setting your skin aflame and sending a shockwave of warmth coursing through your body.

“There is another way you could pay me back.” his velvet voice rasped, stressing the word ‘another’ in a way that you immediately understood his insinuation and you took a sharp intake of air, bracing yourself for what he was about to say next. But he didn’t say anything for a moment, letting his hands do the talking for him as he gripped your arms softly, using his hands to spin you around and face him. You whirled around, yelping in surprise but stopping when you were met with the most exquisite, carnivorous brown eyes you had ever seen in your life that were accompanied by full pink lips and a tousled bunch of fluffy black hair you just wanted to run your hands through. Even in the darkness of night, the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window illuminated the room enough for you to trail your eyes down his face and get a vivid idea of what he’d look like with illumination.

Yummy as fuck.

Your eyes began to wander down to his exposed collarbone and before they could travel any lower, his fingers roughly grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze upward until you met his borderline cannibalistic gaze, which crushed you into nothing. He cocked his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes as the corner of his lips turn upward slightly. “He was always bragging about you… saying,” he speaks, his sultry tone lulling you into a state of compliance as he spoke, “you’re such a good fuck,” he continues, placing his left hand gently on your waist and stepping even closer, if that’s possible, his soft breath hitting your face with every word as he speaks. “Your sweet little cunt is so tight” he glances down at your lips, running his thumb over your bottom lip “your mouth feels like heaven” he pauses again, running his hand down to hold the side of your neck softly to which you gasp “maybe i’d like a demonstration little dove.” he smiles, a twisted horrifying smile that snaps you out of his seductive trance and back to reality as your eyes widen and you pull yourself quickly out of his hold, running over to the couch and bracing yourself on it.

“No” you cry out, out of breath for some reason as you swallow thickly and shake your head. “No, I'll find a way to pay you back, I promise.” you plead, praying he wasn’t going to kill you on the spot and that he hadn’t noticed your blatant ogling. He probably did but at this point you didn’t care, you just wanted him gone.

“Whatever you say sweetheart” he replied, emitting a dark chuckle “call me if you change your mind, my number’s in your phone” he opened the front door and you glanced back at him, noticing the way his all black attire contrasts with his tan skin, and most of all, you notice the full sleeve of tattoos that ran down his right arm. Heat crawled up to your face as you realized you were gawking again and you nodded in response, feeling unable to form the words to respond with. He only uttered the words “you have a week.” before the door slammed and you were left alone in the dark.

You ran your fingers along the side of your neck where the aftermath of his touch lingered like a searing residue. No one had ever touched you like that, especially your ex. He was the man that took your virginity and was the man there for every time after so you’d become accustomed to his textbook missionary vanilla sex that left you touch starved and unfinished every. single. time. But you’d finish yourself off each time, feeling bad because you thought he was trying his hardest and truly didn’t understand how to please women. But as time went on, you realized he didn’t care about your pleasure and too enveloped in his own release to ever worry about your needs, but were too deep in love with him to care.

Your thoughts were interrupted when your phone went off to signal a text and upon picking it up there were two text messages from an unknown number that sent a shiver down your spine which read.

[phone] : don’t try to run

[phone] : we’ll hunt you down little dove

“Can’t you just take the shit back?” You questioned frantically, clutching the phone by your head until your knuckles turned white, rolling your eyes tiredly when you got no response. “They hung up, great” you deadpanned, plopping onto the couch you had been pacing in front of. It has been 6 days since the man showed up and you were running out of time and hadn’t slept in two days, your mind running frantically with the thought of him coming back to see you nearly empty handed. Well, not exactly empty handed. You had managed to get 253k of the whopping +400k dollars you had spent of his money and after not being able to return the car, manicure, hair appointment, rent, and a bunch of clothes and shoes, you were manic. Some might even say a bit crazy. Many of the stores and the dealership knew you by name because of the amount of times you called them. You dropped your phone into your lap, burying your face in your hands and wishing someone was here to console you through this but the only person you knew even remotely enough to offer any consolation was your ex. You wish he was alive so you could punch that bitch in the face and ask him what kind of shit he got himself into because the man that paid you a visit was most definitely not from corporate.

You sat for a silent minute deliberating if you should text the mystery man and take him up on his offer. You had asked yourself, is it really worth your life? Were you really going to die because you didn’t want to sleep with the hot guy you stole money from? The answer at first was yes because you still had your pride intact then but now, you had been starting to second guess your confidence in getting all the money back. After all, the deadline is tomorrow. You still had your hesitations, the only man who has ever seen you in such a lewd nature was your ex. You didn’t know if you were ready for sex with another person, even if he was the hottest man you’d ever seen. But, against your better nature, you convinced yourself that your ex was gone and this was bound to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner?

You grabbed your phone in earnest before anything inside you could convince you to stop and unlocked it, opening the messages for his number and typing out your text, hitting send before any sort of regret had the chance to sink in.

me : i’ll take your offer

me : this is ____ btw

You placed your phone down on the couch cushions beside you and chewed nervously on the not so fresh manicure that was still on your nails. To your surprise, his reply came in quickly and you frantically reached for your phone as the dings came rolling in.

[phone] : i know who you are

[phone] : i'll be there in 20

[phone] : be ready sweetheart

Your heart thumped restlessly as you shot up from your seat shouting “twenty minutes?!” and you cried out nervously. You hadn’t even seen his face in good lighting and you didn't know his name so you’d basically be fucking a complete stranger which scared you enough as it is but the fact that that stranger held you at gunpoint merely a week prior is what scared you shitless.

In the limited time that he gave you, you decided to freshen up a bit so you hopped in the shower. Your first shower in a few days after your psychotic state worsened. Humming in bliss, you relished in the feeling of the scalding water flowing over your skin as you took your time washing , shaving, and singing, in an attempt to rid yourself of the horrendous nerves that overtook your senses. After reluctantly stepping out of the steamy oasis, you’d decided on a white lingerie set you had gotten yourself for christmas but never got to wear for anyone because your significant other was always “working” or too tired/busy to take the time of day for you. Pairing the set with a matching white silk robe and not bothering to wear any shoes because you’re in your own house, you slicked your lips in a thick coat of gloss and applied some mascara and eyeliner to your tired eyes just to spruce up a bit. You figured, if you put effort into your appearance, then maybe he’d spare your life after the sex. You stared at yourself in the mirror, tying your robe, smacking your glossed lips together and ogling your appearance before a soft knocking was heard from the living room. “He’s here” you told yourself with a deep shaky breath as you vacated the bathroom and slowly ventured toward the door.

You stood silently before the front door, contemplating whether this was a mistake or if it was too late to turn back. As much as you hated to admit, there was no logical solution to your problem that was in compliance with any standing laws. Heck, what you were doing was probably illegal in everywhere but Las Vegas so you had no other choice than to twist the handle, open the door and stare up at the most alluring man you had ever laid eyes on. You ran your eyes all over his body, studying him, his features, his gorgeous eyes, impeccable nose, plush lips, smooth hair, and strong arms that lead to a presumed strong chest hidden under his plain white tee. He noticed you blatantly checking him out to which he placed a finger on your chin, lifting your face up so your eyes met and making you watch as he rolled his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment. Oh how you wished that was your lip.

“You ready little dove?” he asked, his tone seductive and smooth like chocolate as he walked closer to you, closing the door behind him and backing you up until you stood patiently before the couch staring up at him, a wistful glint in your eyes as you nodded. He reached up, using a finger to push your robe off of your right shoulder and cocking his head quizzically. “All dressed up just for me?” he pondered, his eyes trained on the white lace peeking out from under the robe. You nodded, to which he gripped your chin roughly, furrowing his eyebrows at your response. “Use your words sweetheart” he warned, loosening his grip so you could speak in affirmation.

“Yes…” your voice trailed off, thinking of what to call him, as you still didn’t know his name, so you addressed him as you would any man you didn’t know, “yes, sir. I dressed up just for you” you concluded, your voice barely greater than a whisper as the corners of his lips turned up. He let out an animalistic growl at the name you gave for him, obviously satisfied and moved his hand from your chin to grip the back of your neck promptly.

“It’s Jungkook, but sir will do nicely” he basically growled before latching onto your lips with carnal aggressiveness. You whined heartily into his mouth as his tongue slipped deftly into yours and intertwined with yours, causing your mind to fall into a haze as he coiled his arm around your waist, bringing your body flush against his toned frame. You reached up with shaky hands, fumbling with his shirt, eager to get it off of him and gaze upon the expanse of his abdomen. His lips detached for a moment, giving you the chance to pull his shirt over his head, which he gladly obliged and lifted his hands over his head, swiftly resuming their positions when his shirt formed a pile on the floor beside you. You leaned back in, attempting to capture his lips in another phenomenal kiss but he pulled back, leaving you to chase him and whine when you ultimately lose, to which he laughs mischievously, taking his hands off of your body and toying with the silk tie on the front of your robe.

“How do you want it baby?” he pondered, the new nickname sending shivers down your spine as you glanced at him quizzically, as if asking what he meant. He chuckled softly, tugging at the ribbon and opening your robe as he brought his hands up, carefully sliding it down your arms and bending down so his face was level with your collarbone. He placed a gentle kiss there, leaving fire in the wake of his lips as he spoke, his breath cooling the seared flesh, “would you like me to be gentle?” he asked leaving more hot kisses along the expanse of your shoulder and neck, drawing salacious sounds from your parted lips as he brought his hand up to rest at the base of your neck. “Or…” he paused, sliding his hand up and increasing the intensity of his grip on your throat, restricting the blood flow to your brain as your mind became hazy and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “Do you want me to be rough?” he continued, lifting his head to watch your face as he loosened his grip. “It’s your choice little dove.”

You were elated, ecstatic and a little disappointed when he loosened his grip on your neck. Your ex was always into sex that lindered toward the vanilla side, as mentioned before, so he would never think to try anything like choking, which always intrigued you just a little bit. You wished you would have experienced other styles of love before you met him but you didn't, and this was your chance to try them out now. Your fingers travelled up, lightly grazing over that hand that was tightly wrapped around your neck. Whining quietly you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, biting it softly as your other hand came up and wrapped around Jungkook’s forearm.

“I wanna try it rough” you mumbled, eyes closing as you relished in the hazy feeling this restriction gave you which only heightened as he tightened his grip.

“Perfect.” he groaned out almost inaudibly as he pulled your face to his, colliding your lips in the roughest, most passion filled kiss you’d ever experienced. He devoured your mouth with gluttonous amusement, his grip on your airway never wavering for a moment as he tongued you down, his carnal need prevalent and present in the thick air of the room. You reached up, completing a task you’d been wanting to do for days, tangling your hand in the messy black mass that fell upon his head, and relishing in the soft feeling of his waves. Then he detached from your lips and moved away, forcing your hands to fall from his hair and onto his broad shoulders, which, while pleasurable to touch, didn’t even come close to frolicking your fingers through his locks. He moved his hand from your neck to your shoulder, to which you whined with a small pout, missing the new contact as he chuckled at your eagerness. He stared at your lips, before leaning down and capturing your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on it voraciously before he spoke. “Do you want me to put this slutty little mouth of yours to use little dove?” he asked, pulling back as if waiting for an answer, to which you obliged.

“Yes sir” You answered quite honestly in fact, as you felt all your hesitation and weariness about this task slip away. “Please put my mouth to use.” you pleaded, staring up at him, a wanton expression on your soft features.

“You’re so good for me .” he whispered, his soft breath fanning your face as you nodded in agreement, “such an obedient little dove, hmm?” he asked, to which you nodded once again, a bit more frantically this time as you awaited his cue. He used the hand on your shoulder to abruptly push you down with a small yelp so you were seated on the black leather couch behind you, the colder leather contrasting the burning lust in your entire body as you looked up at him. “Get to work slut.” Your eyes widened at the name. Maybe it was supposed to be an insult or he just liked calling you that but you couldn’t help the gargantuan wave of slick that coated your panties at the moment.

You looked down, a bit above eye level with his crotch as you reached up to palm him through his faded blue jeans. His scent was tantalizing, musky, and you couldn't get enough as you stared up at him through your eyelashes, your lips slightly parted as you gazed in awe. He gave you a warning glance, as if scolding you for teasing him for this long and you unzipped his pants. He held out his hand, as if to stop you before reaching behind his pants and pulling his gun from the back of his jeans. Your eyes widened, gaze now trained on the firearm in his hand, a horrified expression on your face as you ceased all actions. Which he noticed, peering down at you, a horrifying smile etched on his godlike features as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Relax darling, I won’t kill you,” he purred, reaching down and weaving the fingers of his free hand into the roots of your hair, grabbing and pulling back roughly so you have no other choice but to meet his dark eyes. “We’re only just getting started.” he lowered the gun, pressing the muzzle into the underside of your jaw, the cold metal like ice against your scalding skin. However, you felt no need to cry, felt no need to fear for your life even as this gun was pressed to your neck, aimed to kill, because you knew he wouldn’t do it. Through the dark facade and ominous gaze in his eyes there was something else that made you trust his inability to kill you. You realized you were enjoying the thrill, the excitement of putting your life in his hands. So, you did what any crazy bitch would do in this situation, you breathed out deeply, relaxing your shoulders and slouching yourself down to push your neck further onto the tip of the gun with a mischievous smile. Jungkook stared down at you in awe, running his tongue on the inside of his cheek and taking his gun off of your neck before tossing it over to the end of the couch behind you.

Resuming your actions with a shaky breath, you tugged his pants down until they fell to his ankles and placed your hands on the sides of his underwear clad hips. You might’ve been inexperienced in his style of fucking but you sure knew how to give a good blowjob, so you got to work, placing open mouthed kisses to his clothed appendage. You looked up at him once more seeing the lust clouded haze that filled his deep brown eyes. After a bit of teasing, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down in a seductively slow manner as you allowed his needy cock to spring free, and you stared up at it with a gasp.

It was huge.

You didn’t really know what qualifies as huge because the only dick you’ve ever had was around 6 inches on a good day but this alluring appendage swinging before your face had to be at least 9 inches long and you wondered how the fuck you were going to fit it all in your mouth let alone your pussy, which was already aching for it. Your mouth involuntarily opened wider in anticipation of his delicious dick inside and you grabbed the base, with two hands, drawing a hiss from the man that stood over you as he kicked off his shoes and the rest of the clothing that pooled around his feet. You licked teasingly up the sides of his dick, stopping at the tip to swirl your tongue around it, and catching some salty precum when you did. You glanced up at him and he looked absolutely furious in the best sort of way. Frustrated to the max as you teased him mercilessly, only spending meere fleeting moments at the spots which needed the most attention.

Then he snapped, taking you by surprise and using his hand that was still tangled in your hair to hold you still while he shoved his cock in your mouth. You tried to gasp but it merely came out as a small strangled whimper that was cut off as his length reached that back of your throat. You moved your hands to the sides of his hips once again, bracing yourself as he slowly pulled his member out of your mouth, most likely winding up for another thrust. He propelled his hips forward once again, stuffing not nearly all of his cock into your mouth, as his tip grazed the back of your throat. The feeling of him completely filling your mouth had you livid, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you moaned, the vibrations reverberating onto his appendage which drew a salacious moan from his plush parted pink lips.

“Fuck, your mouth feels like heaven.” he moaned out, then he started to fuck your face, tears pooling in your eyes while his dick basically hit the back of your throat with every harsh stroke of his hips as he gripped on your hair tighter. After one particularly hard thrust, he held his length down your throat as tears rolled down your cheeks and you gagged around him. He took his cock out of your mouth, to which you gasped, swallowing the spit that pooled in your mouth with an aroused groan.

“Tastes so good.” you mumbled, not possibly being able to get enough as he shoved his cock back into your mouth and fucked your throat relentlessly. The tension building in you was too much to bear and your need to cum only heightened as his actions resumed. You arched your back slightly, pushing your clothed clit into the black leather cushions of the couch as you gyrated into it slowly, praying he wouldn’t notice and would be too invested in fucking your throat to realize.

You were wrong. He noticed immediately.

He halted all movements, taking his cock from your throat and grabbing your neck harshly, to which you gasped, whimpering as he pulled you up to stand in front of him, cock slapping the front of your body as you stared at his face in anticipation of his actions. You could imagine what you looked like right now swollen glossy lips, and tear stains running down your face because you didn’t bother to wear your waterproof mascara. You never needed it any other time so you figured why would you need it now. Oh how wrong you were.

“Dirty little dove, trying to get off on the couch because you want me that bad?” he rasped, nearing closer to your face with each word and you nodded frantically, basically begging him to do something, anything. “Words” he barked, drawing a cry from your lips as you thought of what to say.

“I want your cock, please sir.” you begged, before he groaned hungrily and captured your lips in a ravenous kiss, taking you by surprise. No one had ever kissed you after they’d fucked your throat before so why would he do it. You didn’t dwell on that thought for too long before melting into his touch and wrapping your arms around his neck. Jungkook took his free hand, trailing it around your body to unclasp the back of your bra, your eyes going wide at the skillful ease of his fingers. He snatched the white lace clothing off of your frame, tossing it to the other side of the room and reaching back up to cup one of your soft breasts in his hand, flicking the nipple with his index finger and making you sigh satisfactorily into his mouth. He leaned forward, taking you with him as he lowered both of you back onto the couch, settling himself between your newly opened legs and never breaking the kiss. He unlatched his hand from your neck, trailing it down your body as the other hand continued to knead your breast skillfully. His burning touch slowly ventured further and further down your abdomen until he reached the band of your panties and abruptly tore the thin while lace from your body to your dismay and discarding it on the floor beside him. You whined sadly, as those had been your favorite pair of underwear but barely had any sort of time to grieve as you felt two rough fingers dip into the wetness of your slit, trailing them up and stopping right over the spot you needed him to be at, pulling a moan from your still swollen lips.

He began kissing a trail down your body, stopping for a mere moment to suck on the pert bud of your free breast before resuming his path of destruction. He moved his hands to settle on the inner sides of your thighs, spreading them apart and sighing as he got a glimpse of the treasure between them. Your eyes widened upon realizing his destination as you scooched away, holding a handful of his tousled black hair in an attempt to grab his attention.

“I-…” you paused, chewing on your bottom lip and thinking of how to word your statement. “i’ve never asked anyone to do that for me before, so y- you don’t have to do it.” you stuttered wearily as the nerves set in. No one’s face had ever been remotely close to your womanhood and the thought of it sent a chill down your spine as you released his hair from your grasp. You wondered what it would even be like. He glanced up at you, eyes dilated as he chuckled, a dark chuckle that made you shiver as he tightened his grip on your thighs, yanking you closer to his face and taking a deep drag of your scent once you were close enough.

“Oh baby I want to” he basically moaned out, licking his lips and glancing down at your glistening slit, the corners of his lips turning up in a hungry smile. You raised an eyebrow, asking yourself ‘why the fuck would he want to do that?’, and ‘isn’t this for my pleasure?’, but all your concerns were answered once he spoke again. “I can’t wait to make you writhe on my tongue little dove” he muttered, causing your cheeks to burn with the intensity of a thousand suns as he talked into your soaking entrance. “... make you beg and cry without even using my cock.” he continued, releasing your left thigh from his grip as he placed a hand on your pubic mound, lowering his thumb and slowly beginning to circle your clit eliciting a loud wail from you. “You think, if I had the power to turn you into a messy little whore all for me just by using my mouth, I wouldn’t use it at any chance I could?” He asked and you whined, nodding as your hips stuttered up in desperate need of more friction. “It’s all about power baby, and I have it all here” he groaned, watching you clench pathetic around nothing.

Then, he finally gave you what you wanted. His hand resumed its grip on your thigh, forcing it away from the other as his thumb was swiftly replaced by his warm tongue licking up and down your wet sex. You moaned, placing your shaky hands on the mounds of your chest, toying with your nipples just to add to the pleasurable sensations he was creating with his tongue. This feeling was unlike any ecstasy you had ever felt and you never wanted it to stop. His tongue slipped deftly into your soaked entrance twisting and turning skillfully as you keened loudly. His warm wet appendage swirling around your wet cavern was the best feeling in the entire world and you knew if he continued ravaging you at this pace, you’d cum in no time. But, you needed this release. You needed to let go of all this pent up sexual frustration you didn’t even know you harbored. You needed to experience your first orgasm in months, if not years, that wasn’t self inflicted and you hoped and prayed with all your heart that it would come soon.

He switched his focus,, moving his tongue up to play with your aching clit and slipping two fingers into your formerly empty hole with a deep groan that reverberated through your core like a powerful vibrator which only intensified your moans and cries of pleasure. You looked down on yourself to see the delicious sight of him devouring your cunt ruthlessly, the sight alone almost tipping you over the edge as you brought your hands up, covering your eyes while you neared completion.

“Jungkook you’re gonna make me cum.” you called out, an exasperated cry leaving your lips when your impending orgasm was painfully ripped away from you as all his motion stopped. You uncovered your eyes, about to stare down when your body jolted, a harsh sting being felt directly on your clit, sending a wave of warmth barreling through your entire body. Then you understood, he slapped you, and you peered down at him, your eyes glassy due to the orgasm that was ripped from your grasp.

“Who? said you can cum.” he deadpanned menacingly, staring up at you through hooded eyes as you leaned your head back tiredly, realizing the error in your words and prepared to beg, just like he said you would.

“Sir” you cried, holding your arms limply over your head as you continued to plead. “Sir please, please make me cum.” you begged mercilessly, a tear of relief sliding down your cheek as he resumed his assault on your core, attacking at a steady pace and retrieving the all too familiar knot that formed in the pit of your stomach. You reached up, grabbing the edge of the couch with an iron grip, your knuckles turning white as your hips began circling on his face, your clit rubbing against his tongue with every movement and venturing you closer to your sweet release.”Please don’t stop sir, oh my god” you whined loudly, fucking his face relentlessly as you chased your high, nearing it more and more with each thrust of your hips until he finally pushed you off the brink of ecstasy, a scream leaving your lips as Jungkook continued his unrelenting attack on your pained pussy.

You rode out your high, writhing and panting before him, his pace never faltering, his fingers never slowing, his tongue never relenting and it soon became too much. The euphoric delirium quickly turned into madness as you barreled down the path into overstimulation. You wailed pathetically, thrashing under his hold as the pleasurable pain consumed your body and you could barely form a coherent sentence but you persevered, scraping all the coherent thoughts you could muster and turning them into tangible words that sat on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spoken. “Sir please, it's too much!” you cried to which Jungkook finally let up, slowing his pace to a halt and sitting back.

“Oh my god that was so fucking hot” he growled before sucking on his glossy fingers and cleaning around his mouth with his skilled tongue as he gazed amusedly upon your exhausted body. But he was nowhere near done with you. This fact made apparent when he stood and wrapped an arm around your hip, lifting your limp body and turning you over with ease, positioning you so your face was pressed into the now warm couch cushion and your ass was raised high into the air before him. His eyes rolled at the view of your swollen cunt bent over for him and he gave it a light smack, eliciting a pained, but tired yelp from you as he chuckled muttering “you’re going to drive me crazy little dove.” under his breath.

He crouched down, coming face to lips with your abused cunt as he wrapped his arms around your bent bottom, lacing his fingers together as they rested at the arch of your back and dragging his nose up the tortured path of your slit, drawing whines and cries of overstimulation from your wiggling frame as you tried to get away from the punishing menace that was his face. “No, please. I can't take anymore, it's too much.” You whimpered, your voice muffled as you leaned your face into the couch tiredly to which he obliged, reluctantly, as he stood, grabbing his neglected dick in hand and pointing it toward your pink entrance.

“I can’t wait to stretch your pretty little pussy ____.” he purred and you moaned at the sound of your name slipping off of his tongue like the creamiest butter. He dragged his tip along your swollen clit, abusing it again for what seemed like the millionth time that day as he covered his girth in your slick, a guttural groan emitting from the back of his throat. Then, abruptly, he sunk into your slippery cavern, barely all the way in but you’d never felt so full in your entire life as he pushed forward slowly, filling you up and providing you with the most delicious stretch you’d ever felt. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you whined, a desperate whine that you could barely register was your own voice as he pushed his length completely inside of you, his head falling back and your name, rolling off of his tongue once again.

After barely giving you time to adjust to his alarming size, he reeled his hips back before slamming into you again, and again, and again, over and over again until he was fucking you at an unrelenting speed you barely knew was possible to achieve. Suffering from the overwhelming pleasure he forced you to endure, you shut your eyes tight, crying out in strangled indulgence as you grasped onto the fluffy throw blanket strewn lazily over the couch in front of you. You relished in the sting of his girth, staring ahead blankly with glassy eyes as he rammed into you with a punishing speed and black mascara filled tears streamed down your cheeks.

You knew you were about to cum soon, again, only due to the all too familiar feeling accumulating in the pit of your belly. Jungkook reached down, placing a hand on your shoulder blade and pressing your chest further into the couch while he drilled into you, moaning and cursing at the feeling of you flexing deliciously around his cock. He felt you were close, so he moved his hand, snaking it around your waist and trailing his other hand to assume its position around your neck, hoisting you up so your back was arched against his abdomen and you had no choice but to stare up at him as he talked down on you, never slowing the snapping of his hips for a wavering moment.

“You’ve never been fucked this good have you?” he teased through clenched teeth as he leaned down, sucking and marking all over the expanse of your neck with grunts and growls of pleasure. You were way too fucked out to even think about the words to form a coherent sentence, barely being able to form whimpered versions of ‘mhm’ after he questioned you but he was having none of that. He unraveled his hand from your waist, tightening his grip on your throat and landing a hard slap to your left asscheek, drawing a shrill shriek from the depths of your throat as he warned in your ear. “Words little dove” he slapped you again, “how many times do I have to fucking warn you.” he concluded, landing another harsh smack to your abused flesh as you whimpered.

“You’re the best I’ve ever had, I’m such a slut for you sir.” You sobbed out, “please let me cum, please fuck” you whined, drawing out your words and you reached back, tangling both hands in his unruly mop of hair as he split you open, moaning directly in your ear which in itself, was a thing that could make you cum on the spot.

“Cum then.” He said obviously, as if it was the most simple response, only it was this simple command that shoved you off the precipice of ecstasy for a second time. The feeling that bloomed deep in your stomach soon blossomed into a full blown orgasm that racked through your body quickly, leaving nothing but white hot pleasure in its wake as your legs trembled viciously, with one last loud cry of Jungkook’s name. But, he still did not falter, his pace quickening as he neared his own climax, the speed both too much and not nearly enough at the same time. You reached back, attempting to push him and escape the all consuming pleasure torturing your body like a blazing fire but your hands were caught quickly by Jungkook’s hands which crossed them tightly and held them behind your back, resuming his attack.

You shook your head, letting it hang as your tears fell freely onto the couch before you, his moans and groans of ecstasy increasing in volume and frequency as he neared his own climax, his hips faltering in their pace for the first time in a while as he worked to his own release. In what seemed like an instant, he released the most beautiful, salacious, strangled moan you had ever heard, pulling himself out of your soaked cunt, and painting the surface of your ass with his white hot ropes of cum. He finally let you go after a moment, watching as you fell limply to the couch, laying face down, panting exhaustively, your arms still crossed limply behind your back as he smirked down at your fucked out frame. He left you alone for just a bit, coming back but a few moments later before you felt the sore skin of your asscheeks being wiped off with what felt like a warm hand towel. You were relieved he had the respect to clean his mess, it made you respect him just a little bit more as a person but you were way too tired to dwell on the subject any longer.

“You did so good for me little dove” he cooed, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it as he placed a sweet chaste kiss on your lower back, caressing his hand up the side of your body. A simple touch that lacked any sort of sexual aspects, it felt comforting and you sighed, leaning further into the soft couch as you heard him begin to put his clothing on. You felt a pang of distress, seeing as you were more of a fuck and cuddle kind of girl, but you really hadn’t expected him to stay so why’d you feel the need to ask him to. Pushing the feeling deep inside your gut, you sighed deeply as he walked in front of you to bend forward and grab his gun that laid discarded on the opposite side of your couch, also grabbing the throw blanket beside it and tossing it over your naked frame before thinking about something. “So,” he started, tucking his gun in the back of his pants and humming, “I’m thinking that was worth about, hmm 50k” he started. You vaguely understood what he was saying and knew you’d flip out once you were conscious enough to truly comprehend his words. “I’ll keep in touch.” He said, pulling his shirt down and smiling deviously at you as you uttered a hoarse ‘huh?’ To which he answered simply, “if I wanna come collect some more money” and he spun on his heels, opening your door and sauntering out of the threshold.

When he got into the hallway, Jungkook burst into a wide smile, satisfied with the encounter he made today. He entered this agreement fully prepared to either fuck you once and take the money you’d earned back or just fuck you and kill you, but once he’d had a taste, he was insatiable. You were flawless, your compliance was impeccable. The way you obeyed him, begged for him, the way you tasted, the way you felt, the way you looked. There was no way he could ever get enough and is probably the reason he kept overstimulating you like a frat boy with a bruised ego. There was no way he was gonna just let go of an absolute gem like you, so he made his excuse, a plan. Everytime you fuck him, you pay back a portion of the money. He was so tempted to tell you this session was only worth $100 just as an excuse to come back over and over and over until he had his fill, but he kept his composure, giving you hope that you’d ever be free of his grasp. Jungkook for once was extremely ecstatic, elated, excited to ruin you even more than he already had and he was dead set on making you want him just as much as he craved you no matter what it took. Though he was pretty sure you already did.

#bts #bts smut #bts fic #jeon jungguk #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #oneshot #mafia!bts #mafia!jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #bts angst #mafia au #GUNPLAYHAHAHA #IM SUPER EFFED UP #this took sooooo long

[broadwayandnetflix]

Done - Bo Burnham x Reader

Warnings: Language 

Request:  can you make like something where bo gets mad and no fluff just pure angst

Theme: ANGST.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: y’all I am so sorry about this one. but the lovely @asi-42 requested this and I really hope I delivered with the angst! more fics coming soon! 

How do you help someone who’s crumbling in front of you? How do you help them when they want nothing to do with you?

Or at least that’s what it felt like when you were dating Bo. You felt clueless, and the idea of helping him with whatever he was going through just didn’t seem doable.

His temper was heightened, and exhaustion practically clung to the man. It stuck to his hair, his ragged clothes, and his heart. You wanted to wring him of it all, pull him close, hold him tight.

Except, it didn’t seem like he wanted that, or not from you at least. That damn guest house making it seem as though the man was a million miles away from you.

Even when he was inside the shared house, his eyes never quite reached yours, his shoulders often tensed and uncomfortable. It broke your heart into two, seeing him pull away from you.

You had asked him what he wanted, what he needed from you. What you could do to help him, but all you would receive was silence.

Deafening silence.

Those once adoring blue eyes that used to be reserved for you, and only you. Now faded, dull, and drained. It made you hurt in ways you didn’t even know you could break.

But nevertheless, you loved him. Without question, you did, and of course, he loved you. He just had to be tired of you, tired of whatever thing you two were doing.

You wondered what you had done, what finally set off that flag in his brain. Did you lose your appeal? Did he find something else to bring him joy?

It definitely wasn’t that special that he was working on. Or maybe it was. You weren’t sure, but with each morning he left you to your own devices, you couldn’t seem to shake that thought.

Even at night when you saw the lights flashing through the window shutters, the muffled singing, and the discarded clattering of equipment.

You knew you didn’t stand a chance, that is, until it all went pitch black. Or the guest house did, for that matter.

You had been sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a glass of wine. Sometimes you felt pathetic waiting for something that was never gonna come.

Except you still held your breath, hoping that maybe he’d come in and give you a kiss. Praying that he’d touch you again, give you some form of love and care.

Anything, really.

Yet along with the darkness came the silence. Maybe Bo had used the pull-out bed was your first thought, or perhaps he was coming outside.

Yet still nothing.

That is until you had heard the sounds of what appeared to be muffled cries. A sound that sounded a little bit too real. You felt yourself rise out of your seat before becoming hesitant.

Should you go to him? Or was that gonna make things worse? You sighed. Why did you doubt the man you loved? Everything was gonna be okay; it’s Bo. Your Bo. The man who loved you.

You knocked on the door of the guest house awkwardly, hearing the scuffling of feet and sniffling. It made your heart drop a bit, realizing that it was real.

He really had been crying.

The door opens with a click, and you can briefly see some form of relief flicker in his eyes. Only for a second, as they hardened a bit, back to those lifeless blues that you had grown accustomed to.

“Yeah?” he croaks, leaning against the doorframe.

“Are you okay? I’m just getting worried about you sweetie.” you say, shifting your feet anxiously.

“No, yeah I’m fine. Just go back to bed, I’m just working.” Bo mutters, not even daring to meet your eyes.

“Are you sure?” you pry before his eyes snap up at yours.

“Are you daft? I said I’m fine, now please just let me get back to work please.” he barked, going to close the door.

Except something in him stops as he carefully looks down at you, with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher.

His figure practically looming over you; he had never made you feel so small. It almost made you jolt, and he had noticed. You could see him soften slightly before rubbing his hands through his hair.

He looked like an absolute stranger to you. This wasn’t your Bo; this was someone else.

Whether it was his hair absolutely disheveled, the bags hanging under his eyes. Or the unkempt beard that held onto his chin.

“I-I think I need a break.” he said quietly, after some time.

You felt yourself lighten up a bit, clearly from the fact that he was potentially putting his project at rest.

Yet his expression told you anything but that. A sigh escaped his lips as he tried to articulate the words to you.

“I need a break from us. I just can’t do this anymore. I can barely take care of myself, let alone you.” Bo’s words hung in the air.

They didn’t mean to hurt you; you knew he’d never intentionally hurt you. Except they did, he broke you.

This didn’t feel real. It certainly didn’t feel right, and you wanted to snap up from your bed. As if this was all some poorly designed dream and that Bo was still in love with you.

Except this wasn’t a dream, and Bo was still in front of you exasperatedly, trying to stand still.

It was like time had stood still, and your body, much like molasses, was stuck to the patio floor. Dwarfed by Bo’s taller figure, who was fidgeting, trying to figure out what to do with you.

“Okay.” you managed to whisper through your fog-like state.

“Okay?” he asks incredulously.

“Yes, Bo, Okay.” you reply matter of factly, the words bitter on your tongue.

His eyes darken just a tiny bit, giving you a flicker of annoyance. Clearly, he’d expected something more from you. A fit, maybe? Anything that would salvage the relationship.

“Fine, thanks for your understanding.” he scoffs as if he couldn’t believe you.

You honestly thought you had it in you too, to fight for the two of you, but much like Bo. The pandemic had worn you out; you were tired. Forcing someone to love you wasn’t on your list of priorities.

You took a step backward, away from the guest house. Away from Bo. Bo watching your every move, analyzing you like a fucking hawk.

It all stung. It did. The idea of losing Bo like this was downright devastating. Once the door to the house closed behind you, it hit you.

Tears stream rapidly down your cheeks as you try to cope with an empty house and relationship.

Bo had grown tired of you. Not his special, not the pandemic, you. Even if he wanted a break, what would happen then? Would he come back and be met with the same realization?

That you were just another box on his long list of priorities? Just being pushed off to the side, so he can check you off when it suits him best.

You placed whatever you could fit into a suitcase that you had used when the two of you went traveling. Your vision blurred with your tears while you tried to flee as quickly as you could.

Did you love him? Of course. Did you want him to be happy? Always. Except, it appeared that you wouldn’t be the person that would help him achieve everything he needed.

You shoved everything you could into your car and started it, giving yourself a second to breathe. Not even noticing as Bo stood by the window watching as you hit the gas and drove away from him, from your relationship.

Not allowing yourself to notice him wondering if he really did make a mistake. If he really did fuck up big this time.

#@broadwayandnetflix #bo burhnam #2021 #bo burnham x reader #bo burnham x you #angst #what #make happy #words words words #inside #Y’all I am so sorry. #this shit is SAD. #fanfic request

[lovenona]

it’s here, it’s wild, and it’s fun – welcome to “what happened after the art show” featuring everyone’s favorite menace art student ryomen sukuna (previous installment here and full universe here) 

(note that this does contain some references to explicit content – it will be clearly marked within the text) 

now that i've captured your attention: there are a myriad of ways this could go, really. let’s start with the basics. 

first things first: while the thought of scratching up geto’s stupid little car sounds awfully appealing to you, and while you simply wanted to accept the offer for the sake of sukuna’s unusually kind gesture, you also know that you don’t want some serious claims filed against you. geto’s a prick, as you’ve learned, and it’s best to keep things civil. 

so you politely tell sukuna as much, and while he might tease you for being a coward, you know there’s no real malice behind that impenetrable voice of his. 

but the night is not over! sukuna will take you to his car, then. it’s vintage and black and a little beat up and there’s miscellaneous art supplies and tattoo reference books strewn across the backseat, but it smells so distinctly like sukuna that it feels strangely like home. he controls the music, of course, blaring indie and punk with his windows cracked so every stoplight can hear. (he has a preference for wolf alice. he thinks the lead singer is hot.) and even better, he’s got a smirk, a real one, as he drapes one hand across the steering wheel and the other on the glove box between you. 

(you think you’d like his hand to reach further. but you’re still technically in recovery mode, so of course you won’t say it, not yet.) 

your earlier sadness melts away with every minute you spend in sukuna’s car. he’ll take you for a drive without needing to ask. he can read the vibe – it’s you. you don’t want to go home, you don’t want to go out, you don’t want to be anywhere; so he’ll keep you in that liminal space, driving in circles and turning down strange roads whenever and wherever he feels like it. he’ll pass familiar buildings on campus to make a silly little quip, drive past the grocery store to watch students filter through with their reusable grocery bags, drive past the parks that loom in the dusk shadows. you don’t need to talk, and neither does he. it’s quiet, strangely, but a silence so comfortable you hardly notice it. 

and, frankly, the most realistic ending to this night would be that sukuna drops you off at your apartment complex and lets you go home for the night with a final joke. but, of course, i know that’s not why any of us are here. 

so, of course, let’s go to sukuna’s place, instead. it’s an expected gesture, almost, and you can’t say you’re particularly surprised when you see the familiar building come into view. you’ve been to his apartment a few times now, and it’s a place you’re beginning to learn like the back of your hand. 

at this point, your night could go one of two ways. you may now choose your own adventure: safe and fun or sex and spice? 

safe and fun: (mentions of alcohol) 

you’re stumbling through the door with sukuna, arguing with him as you always do, only to find yuuji and his crew in the living room playing god-knows-what on the xbox. they’ll wave you in with a casual vigor, their loud and raucous behavior making sense once you see the array of empty white claws on the table. (many of them are mango. it’s yuuji’s favorite flavor.) 

“you’re back early,” yuuji tells sukuna with a loopy grin, a grin that suggests something unspeakable as he wiggles his eyebrows. he looks at you with that dopey little smile and you roll your eyes. 

“the art show sucked,” sukuna responds, scrunching his nose and heading to the kitchen to fix himself a drink. “you fuckers still drink that shit?” 

sukuna, you know, hates white claw. he’ll only drink hard alcohol, mixed drinks, things that make him feel like a man. you’ve seen it firsthand countless times by now. 

“you’re fourteen minutes older than me,” yuuji whines. “don’t act so high and mighty, old man.”

so sukuna will make himself a drink – a real drink, he clarifies – and offer you a glass almost instinctively. your fingers brush his as he hands you the glass. something electric runs across the surface of your skin, rustles your bones. you make eye contact, and it’s a thousand lifetimes unsaid between you. 

(you wonder if you like him. you don’t know.) 

so the night passes: you watch yuuji and his friends try and struggle to complete the missions in their silly little game as sukuna sits next to you, flexing his biceps as if he knows you’re watching from the corner of your eyes. megumi yells at yuuji who yells at nobara, and while they offer to let you play, you simply cannot break the connection between them. you like the way yuuji laughs and the way nobara smiles and the way their presence is like a soothing balm, cool and collected. 

it’s strange and comforting all at the same time, this newfound ease you feel as you settle back into the couch, your drink sweet on your lips. 

the night is a warm lilt; the silly party plays their games, you watch, sukuna acts indifferent to the spectacle and threatens to return to his room at any moment. you know, though, that he’s enjoying himself, even if only because of his posture and the smirk ghosting his lips. it’s wonderful and mundane and in this moment of pure domesticity, you can allow yourself to forget the night’s events entirely. 

you hardly remember silly geto now, you do. you know you’ll be angry as all hell when you see him in class but for now, here, it’s okay. 

and when you fall asleep, slowly, suddenly, someone – you think sukuna, but he insists he didn’t – tucks you beneath a layer of warm blankets. it’s a warm night, a comforting night, one that feels like a kiss to the forehead. you need it. 

(you think sukuna really does kiss your forehead, too, but you don’t know. when you wake on the couch the next morning, you wonder whether it could have all been a dream.)

sex and spice: contains nsfw, slight dubcon (both characters are tipsy but very much consenting and happy with their situation), oral (f! receiving), sukuna being a tease 

oh, but the second option. you’ll stumble through the door in this life to find that yuuji’s not home – the apartment is dark and quiet and full of a tension you cannot name. you’ll become hyper aware of your actions, suddenly, shyly, taking note of the exact way you take off your coat and shoes and leave them in the doorway. sukuna feels incredibly present and you don’t know why. you’ve been alone with him before, but perhaps it’s different when you’re alone like this. when it’s his home, his couch, and not a classroom. it’s different, now, when the chances of being seen by strangers have decreased significantly. 

you’ll warm up slightly, though, when sukuna offers you a drink in that teasing voice he always uses when he wants to fluster you. he’ll fix the drinks with a bartender’s ease and sit down on the couch, throwing an arm back, letting his bicep tattoos flex in the golden glow of the living room. 

it’s so quiet, and you’re trying your best, really, but you don’t know what to say. you’ll put the television on and sukuna will find something you both know you  won’t watch but lets you ease the strain. you’ll make fun of it, he’ll make fun of it, and you’ll slide back like molasses into the lazy semblance of friendship you’ve cultivated together. 

and it’ll be easier to feel normal, too, once you’ve had a drink or two – your tongue loosens up, and you find yourself able to say things to sukuna that you’ve never said before. you find yourself forgetting that you’re alone with sukuna in his house, and that you are suddenly and absolutely nervous in a way you have never been before. 

“so tell me,” he’ll ask, turning to you on the couch, brave and arrogant with a dark and stormy in his system. “how was it?”

you pretend you don’t know what he’s talking about. “how was what?” you’ll purse your lips together and suppress the butterflies in your chest. you wonder just how long you have thought sukuna to be attractive. 

he’ll shake his head. “fucking geto, you idiot.” plastered across his face is the smirk you’d know with your eyes closed. he leans in, slightly, not enough to terrify you but enough to leave you struggling to form a complete sentence as your brain shuts down. 

but you’ve had something to drink, too, and while in daylight you would have ignored his question entirely, brushing him off as a perv and a jokester, you can’t help but think there’s something different in the aura of the room tonight. you can’t help but be honest. 

“it was fine, i guess,” you tell him. you shrug your shoulders and look back towards the television. you pretend you care about what you see. 

he smells like something smoky and earthy today. “fine?” 

you try to make a joke, but your head is spinning from his undivided attention. you do not know what you are anymore. “are you always this interested in my sex life?”

sukuna, surprisingly, grins with genuine amusement. “no, but geto gives off the vibe of a limp dick film boy, and i wanted to know if it’s true.” 

“limp dick film boy,” you repeat, and a hearty laugh escapes your bubbling chest. you feel your inhibitions melt away, and your secrets fly out of you, the horrifying experience of the art show fading behind you. you’ll deal with geto in class, you think vaguely. at least he never said your name. 

you sigh, forgetting him like a bad pun. “i mean, i guess it was fine. i don’t know.” 

“you don’t know.” you can’t tell if he’s being condescending or if he’s genuinely concerned for the state of your pitiful sex life. “did he at least give good head if he made a fucking sculpture about it?”

“what?” your heart stops, your face is hot, your brain on fire. it’s not that he’s crossed a line, you think, but that that question opens something deep and unspeakable and strange. “no?” you don’t know why you answer, but something within you tells you that you must. something tells you that the world is shifting, and you must follow.

“he didn’t?” you feel the couch shift as sukuna shifts closer. “what kind of fucker doesn’t? it’s common courtesy, you know.” 

“he didn’t want to,” you respond, but you don’t know what you’re defending.

“and if i do?” 

you freeze. one of sukuna’s hands traces your shoulder like butterfly wings. it must be the rum talking, you think, because there’s no way sukuna would want you. it wouldn’t make sense, certainly, you rationalize. he must be out of his mind, this must be a joke –

“you still there?” a finger taps your forehead. 

“yeah,” you respond, returning to yourself. you curse your flailing heartbeat. you turn to look at sukuna, so close to you, and you’re met with the terrifying depth of his dark gaze. you have never seen this gaze, this look that places you at the center of the universe. your breath nearly catches in your throat. 

sukuna leans in. so do you, instinctively. you disregard geto and the sculpture and everything that came before. this, you think. this is what it should have been like. you’ve been waiting for this moment since the first time he kissed you months ago. you’re overcome with sensations you cannot name, an ache that builds and spreads through your belly. perhaps you’ll regret it tomorrow. but now, here, you want it more than anything. 

“you don’t have to,” sukuna says. his breath is hot on your cheeks. 

“i want to,” you say, and it’s a kiss for the ages. 

so he’ll push you backwards to lie on the couch, and his shirt will be off and disregarded before you can think about it. you’ll trace the tattoos on his broad chest, lines and patterns you’ve never seen until now that you will never be able to forget. you’ll memorize the feeling of his tongue in your mouth, the smooth metal of his tongue piercing sending shivers down your spine. it’s messy and crude and everything you would expected it to be – neither one of you is willing to give in to the other. neither wants to admit this is anything more than a challenge. 

(you’re in heaven, though. geto who?) 

and fuck, god, the look he gives you as he asks if he can take your pants off now: you’d paint it, frame it, place it in every art museum in the world if you could. it’s the second time you’ve taken your clothes off for someone in your life and while it’s strange and weird and sukuna, it feels right at the same time. he bites your neck when you left your hips to slide the clothes off you body and you feel dizzy with hunger. 

sukuna loves to tease. he’ll make his way down your body slowly, tantalizingly, sly, and you swear you’ll lose your mind if he waits any longer. and when he looks back up to meet your eyes, with that lustful, dangerous, blown-out gaze, you know you’re fucked. you know you’re fucked when you realize it’s ryomen sukuna hanging out between your parted thighs, asking for consent before he places a soft kiss to your clit. 

and you know, you know bitterly, that this would have been the most mind-blowing sex of your life had the key not turned in the lock because yuuji decided to come home early. 

so you scramble to get your shit together, angry and disappointed. and even though you’ve regained your clothes and your dignity before yuuji can even remove his shoes and make his mindless way to the living room, you cannot quell the fire that grows within you. you cannot stop the hunger that has already begun. and sukuna knows it, too, because his eyes have not lost the look of a predator looking for prey. 

(and, you notice, because his dick is still hard.) 

he looks at you, and you look at him. he leans in, grins, whispers, “my room?” 

#xoxo #sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen.sukuna #artist!jjk #letters to adele

[delldarling]

i didn’t ask | merrick

chasing truth | chapter six male faerie x gender/body neutral reader 2691 words sfw | a little bit of fae q & a note: formatting! i hate it! but hey, a recent comment on this story fully pushed me into working faster to get these next chapters together. you really helped get me through a bout of imposter syndrome, so thank you very, very much chapter index? or chapter five?

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“You’re going to find a car? What about-” 

“We can’t use anything that might have a hint of us in it, so using the clunker I have is out. Borrowing one from anyone we know is out too because they can’t have any remnant of glamour, no hair, or spit. Nothing.” Gar glances at you out of the corner of his eye, hesitating before he continues. “I know Merrick wasn’t using glamour, back at your place. He never uses it if he can help it, but what exactly was going on that he left that much of a…” Gar falls slowly silent, blinking twice. “Ah.” Gar’s grin spreads like molasses, slow and lasting and genuine, but it's so wide, it’s almost painful to look at. 

“What?” You ask, feeling like you should be self conscious, but you’re still too worried about Merrick to focus on why.

“It’s, no, never mind. Gives me hope, is all. Now, I don’t know how long we have,” Gar confides in you, elevator rattling steadily on the way down. He takes one look at your face and amends his statement, laughing awkwardly and scratching at the nape of his neck. “It’s not that Merrick can’t keep the guy occupied! He definitely can. He’s more than strong enough for that, and they have-”

“History?” You interject, frowning at him.

“Uh, yeeeah," he says, trying to erase the grimace tugging at his lips. "That. Don’t worry though, I don’t think he’s going to try and kill Merrick, because-” Gar cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Anyway, what I meant is: I don’t know how long we have before Merrick is going to need an out. He can hold him off, but eventually he’s going to tire.” The elevator doors open, but as soon as you take a step forward, Gar has his fingertips pressed to your sternum to stop you. He walks out ahead of you, quieter than normal, but still sporting his typical smile as his eyes sweep the room, and after a few seconds waves you forward.

“Eventually his friend is going to turn his attention back to his mission. As dedicated as Merrick always claimed to be?” Gar doesn’t frown, but it’s a near thing. “I think his friend has him beat.”

You follow Gar to the entryway, hesitating again when it comes to walking around outside barefoot. It shouldn’t be an issue, not in the long run, but part of your brain is insisting that you just need to head back to your apartment for a moment, just to pop in to grab your shoes, never mind the fighting Fae inside it. You know it isn’t wise, isn’t even feasible… Which definitely means you’re in shock.

There are sirens echoing through the streets as soon as Gar pushes open the door. And they’re coming closer. 

“Someone heard the fighting,” Gar mutters and then turns around, beckoning you closer. He has a slightly nervous look on his face, lips curled upward but not smiling. “Honestly, even though you might find this awkward? You need to climb on my back.”

“Your back?” Further words fail you.

Gar kneels, slapping impatiently at his shoulder. He’s right, you do find it awkward, but you listen anyway, circling your arms around his neck. He gets to his feet, wraps his arms around your legs to hold you in place and starts walking. He laughs when you make a grumbling noise, skipping over a crack in the pavement just because he can.

“Why are you walking?” You ask after a moment, lowering your voice even though there isn’t anyone within arm’s reach. Talking loudly feels like asking the universe to fall down on your head right this moment. 

“Police are coming,” he says, and whether it’s because you tense or he can follow your train of thought, he continues: “I can run very fast, but I don’t want to leave a glamour trail. And running that fast without the glamour?" Gar scoffs. "Even if I keep myself to any kind of human running pace, the police are going to assume we’re suspicious. Doing this? It looks like I’m giving a buddy a piggy-back after ruining their shoes, yeah?” Gar hikes you a little higher on his back, whistling. 

“I don’t know that everyone is going to assume that,” you grumble. You can’t help turning your head, looking back at the two police vehicles screeching to a stop in front of the apartment building. Hurriedly, you look back ahead, trying to look like some poor fool who lost their shoes somehow. You probably look more like a child, with someone like Gar carting you around, arm muscles bulging, head bopping as he walks.

“Maybe not, but no one is going to come after us. Now, shoes first—think you can make it in some knock-off keds?” He turns his head, nearly knocking you in the face with the bill of his ball cap. You jerk out of the way, frowning when you realize that you’ve never seen him in a hat before. Granted, you never would have pegged him as a sports guy, not hearing him chatter about TV or comics, but still. You’re learning all kinds of new things about Gar.

“How long have you been hanging around with humans to know about things like keds or knock off brands?” You ask, and jump, squeezing awkwardly at Gar’s shoulders when there’s a shattering noise coming from your building. You know it’s Merrick and Roran, but as soon as you try and look again, Gar picks up the pace. 

“Unlike Merrick, I’m very into submersion as a learning tool. Languages, culture-”

“You just like TV,” you tease, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in your stomach. Everything is going to be fine, right? “And since when do you wear Banshees merch?” You ask, purely to keep yourself distracted. 

“Yeah, yeah, I like TV,” Gar agrees with a sigh. “Since today,” he adds. “No glamour, which means warm clothes annnd now I feel worse about leaving you without shoes. Alright, knock off keds, here we go!” He walks for the next ten minutes, barely even breaking a sweat. Gar heads straight for the pharmacy when he spots it, forgetting about the constant stream of chatter he’s kept up for your benefit. He keeps to the edge of the parking lot and deposits you carefully on a bench just outside the door, letting you settle comfortably. He pauses when he sees your face though, fiddling with his hat when he sees your eyes widen over the gloves he’s wearing.

“Going to tell me what’s under those?” You ask, only half joking. 

Gar snorts, lingering. “You’re not wowed by any of this, are you?”

“Shut up. I most definitely am, but-”

Gar interrupts your answer with a quick flap of his hand. “Yeah, I know. It’s a compliment though. You humans sure are terribly resilient in the strangest of ways.” Gar shakes his head, brown eyes blinking a little too fast. “Anyway, scream if you see… Just scream,” he finally settles on saying. “Going to get you those shoes.” He turns on his heel, pasting on a bright smile as he strides into the shop. He’s only gone for a few minutes, but you spend your time alone trying not to fidget, trying not to meet the eyes of passers-by. When he pops back out of the pharmacy, holding up a pair of gray canvas shoes and blinding white socks, you can’t help but laugh. “They were out of black,” he says primly, turning to glance down the street. “Uh, put those on and I’ll be right back.” He sets them in your hands, only barely tilting his head to make sure you have hold on them before he’s moving.

The shoes are by no means comfortable, but between them and the cheap socks, you can manage for a bit. It isn’t until you hear the steady rumbling of a car engine, and spot him parked at the corner, waving at you with a goofy smile on his face, that you realize he was off stealing a car. For a few moments all you can do is sit on the bench and stare, but when his waving gets a bit more urgent, you jump to your feet, white noise filling your head. He stole a car.

As soon as you slide into the front seat, Gar hits the gas pedal, cruising out of the parking lot. He’s leaning far too close to the windshield to be comfortable though, tiling his head so he can keep looking up.

“Are... is Merrick up there?” You ask, leaning forward too, but Gar quickly shakes his head. He glances pointedly at the seatbelt in your hand. You click it closed immediately. 

“Wasn’t looking for the flying fools, but that’s a good idea!! I was actually checking for security cameras,” he says, an awkward smile curling his lips.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you say under your breath, slouching back in your seat and trying not to grip too tightly to the door handle. “Alright. Can I get some answers from you now that we aren’t on foot, or are you going to ignore me?”

“Do I usually ignore you?” Gar asks. That petulant little frown of his fast wipes out any hint of a smile.

You scowl, noting the phrasing. “You didn’t answer, but okay. This- Roran. Roran is after you, Merrick was after you, and Merrick says he still doesn’t know why. You aren’t the gardener that-”

Gar wrinkles his nose. “Well, Merrick didn’t really hold anything back from you, did he?” You realize, with a start, that you’ve never seen Gar drive before. He doesn’t look like he’s doing a half bad job of it, actually, he doesn’t look confused, at any rate, but he looks… Uncomfortable. He’s clutching a little too hard at the steering wheel, shoulders raised and elbows out in an awkward looking hunch. 

“No, he didn’t.” You open your mouth, ready to plow ahead with your questions, but... “Gar, you’ve driven before, right?”

“Of course!” He says, immediately. “I’ve definitely driven before. The only thing that makes it difficult is the man made material. It just makes me... lethargic, possibly?” His lips thin, jaw clenching as he puzzles over his choice of words. “Coupled with the movement, I’m not fond of it.”

“...Alright. Now, are you going to keep this whole thing to yourself or what? Because Merrick gave it up, but now he’s going toe to toe with a, a friend over you, and-”

“Listen,” Gar says, tone more than passingly sharp. “I didn’t ask Merrick to do anything for me-”

“Nope,” you interrupt, reaching over and slugging him once in the arm. It hurts you more than it does him, as it didn’t exactly have much force behind it, but it makes the anger fade from his face. “We’re not going to get into the whole you don’t understand cliché, because you know why we don’t understand? You’re not talking. Merrick said you tried to save someone? But that’s as much as you’ve told him. So even if you don’t end up telling me, I think you need to reconsider letting him in on what’s happening. I’m still just trying to wrap my head around this Faerie business and the fact that you exist! But you two are dealing with assassins and monarchs!” You huff, out of breath, frowning when you recognize the street he’s driving down. 

Gar’s hands twist awkwardly at the steering wheel and the worn out cover around it. One of the small splits in the fake leather turns into a large tear when he gets a little too vigorous, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. “..are we done yelling at me?” He asks, forcing a small laugh.

You shake your head, ignoring that particular question. “We’re coming back to the subject, I promise, but did you just bring us back to your place?” You ask, the older car rolling to a stop in front of his apartment building.

“Yeah, and we’re going to pack some things this time. Want to lend me a hand?” Gar barely looks at you, but he doesn’t dare leave you in the car by yourself. As soon as he’s out, he waits next to your door, scanning up and down the street like he’s some kind of bodyguard until you’re out. He takes hold of your forearm, grip steady, but loose, just in case he needs to pull away. 

“Seeing as I don’t want to sit on my hands and worry?” You ask sarcastically. “Sure.” You let Gar tow you inside, nervous, but the place they share looks mostly untouched. Things have been moved, but it doesn’t look like anything in the front room is broken. Gar’s bedroom is much the same, but Merrick’s bedroom is… A mess. Nothing has been destroyed, but the sheets on his bed are strewn across the floor and his clothes look like they’ve been thrown around the room by a whirlwind. A leather bag, one he’d carried with him everywhere when you first met, has been emptied across the top of his dresser, items still hanging out of the pockets. 

“If… If you don’t mind,” Gar says, frowning at the mess. “Put everything that’s been spilled out of the bag back in, and grab him some clothing? We’ll try and make a round trip back to your place for stuff too-”

“My stuff?” You ask, surprised. Gar’s smile has all but faded. 

“...Roran isn’t going to be looking for only Merrick and myself, now. If he’s made a promise, if he wants to keep himself from being forsworn, he’s going to use any and everything he can to get one or both of us out in the open.” He waits a beat, debating before he finally blurts: “Hostages.” Gar pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I shouldn’t have told Merrick to hide at your place, I know that now. He tracked me down before I reached-” Gar swallows, closing his eyes tightly as he attempts to steady his breathing. “I’m just saying it’ll be safer, for now, if you come with us.” 

“With you, you mean. We don’t know where Merrick is,” you say, trying to ignore how tight your chest feels. Maybe the shock is wearing off, or maybe you’ve just reached that point of too much. Your eyes feel hot, and your shoulders ache with tension, but you aren’t crying. Not yet. 

Gar laughs, though it doesn’t sound particularly happy. “Unless Roran has learned how to use a phone in the few hours we’ve been gone, I think we’ll see Merrick soon enough.” He turns the phone your way, where a text from Merrick is open on the screen. 

talk soon 

“That’s informative,” you tell him, but you can’t deny that you feel slightly better. 

“Right, well, can you pack for him, or should-”

“I’ll do it,” you sigh, and turn away. Despite having been friends with Gar for technically longer, you’ve never been more than casual buddies. He’s always been fun, has always had a lovely sense of humor and he’s good with people in general. But you’ve never had reason to press for more than he’s offered, and he’s never offered to invite you into anything personal before. 

“Are vampires real?” You call over your shoulder, picking up the leather bag and some of the trinkets laying next to it, thumb stroking over the rounded edge of a plastic gem. Merrick had snatched it up off the street a month ago, fond of it’s shine.

There’s a choked laugh from the next room. 

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,” Gar quotes, which is another ridiculous non-answer that you are fast getting tired of. 

“Be that way then,” you mutter, tempted to start shoving things into the bag angrily. You roll your shoulders though, hoping to ease some of the ache, and start going through the clean clothes strewn everywhere, grabbing things you think you’ve seen Merrick wear before. His tastes run towards the simple, so finding ones he’ll wear isn’t terribly hard. You recognize the ridiculous cartoon print shirts that Gar had bought Merrick as a gift though, recalling the grimace he’d done nothing to hide, mouth twisted like he’d bitten into a vastly sour lemon. Those look like they’ve never been worn.

“I do expect a warning if one of my co-workers ends up being one,” you call out, just to keep conversation going. The quiet is… A little uncomfortable, if you’re being honest. “If people around town start keeling over from blood loss, I’m coming straight to you-”

“Got it,” Gar calls back, and he sounds a bit more like his usual self. “No vampire coworkers for Horatio.”

“If you stick me with that nickname, I am going to-”

His phone rings, echoing through the apartment, and interrupting both your words and his response. The both of you stop. You abandon the packing, coming to stand in the doorway of Gar’s room as he answers his phone.

“Merrick,” he starts, knuckles pale and eyebrows drawn together, and then he wheezes, flashing you a thumbs up. You don’t hear the next few words, overwhelmed with relief as you are, but you do catch sight of the grin on Gar’s face. “He’s packing you a bag,” he tells you with a laugh, when he sees that you’re paying attention again. “And we have a place to meet, so we all need to hurry the hell up and-” Gar glances down at the floor, licking nervously at his lips. “I guess I have some things I should talk to you two about, if you’re willing to hear it.”

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...turn the page?

#exophilia #faerie boyfriend #fae boyfriend #male faerie x reader #fairy x reader #d.darling writes

[sweetestlamb]

Make Me Crescendo

Summary: Song-ah ponders if there is truly any space left in Joon Young's life for her. Joon Young shows her exactly where her place is.

Author's Note: I didn't expect to enjoy this show as much as I do honestly, I love the dynamic and chemistry between the leads. Most of the other characters could choke for all I care, but I love Song-ah and Joonie, they are goals and they deserve to just run away and be happy. Anyway, I was inspired so this happened. (Please don't leave comments asking about when I'll write more, I'll do it when I can and when I'm inspired for all of my stories. If you are going to leave a comment, you can tell me what you liked or what I could do better, appreciate that more!) Happy reading, please ignore all my lame music puns! 😂😈 

Music filters through the doors as she watches on her heart thumping erratically, a metronome expelling the staccatos of her fear. The gaggle of female students outside the door white noise in the background, their coos and awes stabbing her paper thin heart that is wavering in her chest.

They sound so good together!

Omg, don't they look perfect?

I think they would be a much better couple!

Taking a step back her violin bangs into the wall suddenly alerting them to her presence, her eyes dart wildly like a cornered animal as they look at her with pity and sneering apologetic eyes as if saying: you brought this on yourself, how could you ever think you could have him?

With a wet gasp, she scurries off avoiding their looks clutching her hands tightly as she bursts through the doors. The cool Spring air whips her hair around her face temporarily blocking her face from onlookers, the moisture on her cheeks causes strands to stick before she pushes them back.

Seeing them play in such perfect harmony has only cemented the doubts that already fill her mind, how can see ever measure how to Jung-kyung? A woman that he has not only loved for years but who also plays her instrument far better than she ever will? If she is meant to be a replacement, she stands no chance; they are worlds apart maybe it's time she accepted that.

I'll cherish our moments today, it was an honor.

She knows what she has to do, her heart whines but she blinks away her tears. He deserves better.

His missed calls and messages taunt her as she peers down despondently at her phone, she hasn't been able to bring herself to sever their bond. Every time she starts to type out a message to set him free, his smile flashes in her mind and she's rendered comatose. Instead flinging the cursed object far away and punishing her fingers as shrill notes screech from her violin.

Avoiding him isn't as simple as she'd hoped with everyone knowing about their ill-fated relationship and constantly inquiring about his whereabouts, it becomes sickening obvious that most "friends" who approach her with their shrieking calls of "unnie" could care less about her and are instead hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

As soon as they realized he was absent and had no plans of suddenly materializing, they bombarded her with excuses of why they needed to take their leave, immediately. She vaguely wondered if they cared at all about how little they made her feel, their treatment further emphasizing how insignificant others viewed her.

She was always disposable to others. She didn't even have a best friend to turn to for advice, someone else who has decided that she simply wasn't worth the trouble of staying and fighting.

Nobody had ever deigned her worthy of fighting for.

With a forlorn sigh, she grips her purse tighter better climbing the stairs to the school entrance. She only has one class to get through today, before she could escape to her room and ruminate on how to inform Joon-young that she couldn't do this anymore.

Arriving a few minutes early to class, she takes her seat closer to her front away from the gossiping girls who had been waving her over. She had no desire to listen to their backhanded comments on her lack of talent or unbelievable relationship, their words only added fuel to the vicious thoughts already cycling in her brain.

Pretending not to hear them beckoning her over, she looks at the professor with more focus than she's currently capable of, turning a blind eye to her surroundings.

Time crawls by like molasses poured from a jar, before the professor dismisses the class causing students to bolt from their seats, she being one of the first. He typically waits for her after this class and she has very little time to flee without him catching her, ignoring the calls of her name once more she takes her leave, violin thumping a dull pain on her back.

Cracking the door open she peeks outside, a sliver of her head breaching the opening, a sigh of relief falling from her lips when she meets a vacant spot. Stepping out further she glances around, but he is nowhere to be seen, the hallways empty besides students trekking to their next classes.

Her chest aches traitorously but she internally berates herself, this is good I don't want to see him, her heart ripples at the lie, refusing to engage in this façade that she's forcing. Clutching at her chest she takes one trembling step, then another before finding her resolve and racing to the door.

So close, almost there, come on.

Hand reaching for the handle, she twists it pushing it open seconds away from freedom.

"Song-ah!" Her skin prickles from his deep baritone, his tone wrapping her in a honeyed cocoon. She hesitates, fingers twitching on the cold smooth metal.

"Song-ah, wait!" The desperation in his voice halts her escape, unable to abandon him when his voice reveals so much about how he's feeling. She loathes the mere concept of being someone who hurts him.

Reinforcing her now wavering resolve she slowly spins around, their eyes meeting in a clash, his own shining brightly as he peers into her soul. Her breath hitches as she watches him step closer to her, suddenly there isn't enough oxygen in the room, her lungs wheeze at the atmospheric change.

His beautiful hands gradually elevate, millimeters from her skin, as he begs for permission with his smoldering dark eyes.

She almost accepts defeat, before Jung-kyung's smug sour face flashes in her mind. Dousing her with icy cold realization, they just aren't meant to be.

She draws away from his searching fingers, stepping just out of his reach.

Hurt blazes across his handsome face, hardening in his eyes.

"Why have you been ignoring my calls and messages?"

He goes straight for the jugular, not pussyfooting around the elephant in the room.

"I've been busy practicing." She responds weakly, recoiling under his hard glint.

He steps forward once more, instinctively she retreats, the demure mouse to his assertive cat.

He sighs, stepping back his shoulder sagging in disappointment.

"What's wrong? Why won't you even let me come close to you? Why are you ignoring me?"

This is the moment, the one she's been yearning and waiting for, the perfect opportunity to put this sham to an end. Her mouth opens and closes as she pushes herself to be courageous for once, do the right thing and put both of them out of their misery.

You look better with her. I don't deserve you. I'm not good enough. Not strong enough. Leave. Leave me.

Please.

But, she can't. Can't get her mouth to say any of those truths. Fear and heartbreak render her immobile and cowardice takes center stage instead, ready for its solo.

"I...I...." He looks at her with warm eyes, pleading with her to finish her sentence, hope settled in the lines of his skin.

"I have to go."

"Song-ah!"

Her breath doesn't return until she's shaking on her seat at the bus stop. He hadn't chased her. Maybe he had just learned that she wasn't worthy the trouble.

Her days lapse by as she moves through life resembling a zombie, obsessively looking at her phone only to feel her heart fracture each time no notifications await her hungry eyes.

She goes to class as normal, no longer having to avoid her classmates as they have moved on to something more entertaining than her relationship. Their piteous looks make her skin crawl, her fight with Joon-young the talk of the town. Now they can freely gossip about her and how they knew it would never last, the pure glee on their faces is grotesque.

She sees him in passing in the hallway but he keeps his distance, never maintaining eye contact for too long. She's getting exactly what she wanted. Yet she feels sick to her stomach, her skin clammy and cool.

The irony isn't lost on her, how appropriate that this would be the one thing she's able to do successfully. Ruin her own life and sabotage her own happiness.

There are nights when her control falters and she stares at the illuminated screen of her phone, writing a message only to erase it with a sigh before crashing into her mattress. Her limps are heavy and uncoordinated as she flails upon the surface.

"Why does this have to be so hard?" Her question goes unanswered in the stillness of the night, as she ultimately falls into a fitful slumber.

Finally pulling herself together after days of quiet anguish, she goes back to her mission to find an accompanist.

She closes her phone as she says her final good byes to the team leader, thanking her for allowing her to use the rehearsal room in the Kyungoo building.

The winds blows the wispy ends of her skirt, dragging the material across the smooth skin of her knee. Subconsciously she tugs at the material, its a bit shorter than her usual ensemble she'd ordered it online not expecting it to hit inches above her knee. It seemed longer in the photos. 

A voice shouting her name drags her from her self-conscious inklings, as she spins around to see her potential accompanist.

A welcoming smile tugs her lips up, dimples sinking into her skin with familiarity.

Raising her hand in a small wave, bowing while calling out, "Hello! Nice to meet you, I'm Chae Song-ah, chae not choi, like the vegetable." Explaining before the inevitable questioning and confusion can sour their interaction with awkwardness. 

The sheepish grin informs her that she did the right thing, a hand is extended into her space and she grasps it in her own.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Park Min-jae." His warm smiles immediately puts her at ease. Together they enter the building amicable conversation flowing easily.

Hours pass as the music ricochets around the room, her bow light in her hands as she drags it across the strings, flabbergasted as harmonious sounds permeate the air. His fingers move in a flurry across black and white keys, shoulders bouncing in rhythmically as the song nears it end. Their last notes swirling around each other in a perfect crescendo.

"Wow, that was fun! You did great!" He breaks the silence, and his words leave her breathless.

She's been prepared for insults and sharpened words, his praise disorient her.

His wide grin leaves little room for argument so she merely nods, not quite believing him.

He starts to gather his belongings before turning to her, "I have to head out but I mean it, I think we sounded pretty good together. What do you think? Was I good enough for you?"

His innocent question plummets her into a sea of memories, his face at the forefront of her thoughts.

Shaking herself free she quietly replies, "Yes, it was good. You were good."

He lifts an eyebrow but says nothing else at her words.

"Okay, I'm free this weekend. Give me a call if you want to practice some more."

She nods finally collecting her own belongings, then turning off the lights and exiting the room.

The air is charged as the walk side by side and it's doesn't make sense until she turns the corner. Park Min-jae's excited voice never falters as she stands still, eyes locked on the new arrival.

Joon-young stands before her, eyes scouring her face before darting to the unknown man standing beside her. She watches his Adam's apple bob distractedly, as his eyes darken minutely.

"And I think we should..." Park Min-jae's voice peters off as he notices her unmoving figure before noticing that there is someone new. 

All three of them stand there wordlessly before park Min-jae cracks the uncomfortable silence.

"Hi, I'm Park Min-jae. A friend of Song-ah, nice to meet you." The and you are? lingers in the air.

Her brain stutters at the possibilities and she rushes to provide an answer.

"Oh! This is Joon-young, he's just a fri-"

"Her boyfriend." He extends a hand but his eyes never leave her face, she feels as if she's being challenged and she doesn't know how to respond.

"Nice to meet you! I didn't know you had a boyfriend, you should have let me know before flashing those pretty dimples at me." Park Min-jae's teasing smile unsettles her causing her to shift under his gaze, unbeknownst to her Joon-young's grip tightens ever so slightly in their handshake.

Suddenly her potential accompanist winces and jumps, apologetic look on his face before he retracts his hand to put them up in acquiesce.

"Sorry."

Joon-young looks at him, the seconds dragging before he nods looking away from again. Eyes for her only.

"Um..so I'll talk to you later? It was nice to meet you." Park Min-jae bows once more, glancing between them both before shaking his head and all but running away.

She feels pinned under his look and rubs her own arm simply to have something else to focus on. Feigning distraction, she looks at the ground; heart clattering frantically at his sudden appearance.

Mumbling under her breathe she finally speaks, "What are you doing here?"

She's completely unprepared for his hands to slide into hers with ease, her fingers curling around his before her brain can register what is occurring.

"Come with me." The please is unsaid but loud as a high C and she nods, helplessly following his lead as he drags her back into the rehearsal room.

The click of the door closing is harsh in the quiet of the room, as he stops in the center of the room. Large hand still wrapped around her own, his warmth drift into her brittle bones.

"Who was that?"

Glancing up at him from under dark lashes she swallows, "Park Min-jae, a pianist. I wanted to see if we could play together. My teacher recommended him."

Humming in response he stares her dead in her eyes, it takes every fiber of her being to maintain the contact.

"Why were you going to tell him I was just a friend?"

Sputtering, she chokes on nothing pulling her hand away to cover her mouth as small coughs escape.

Concern flashes on his face before it's driven away with anger.

She quivers under his hard stare, "I thought....I didn't know...we haven't spoken in days."

Pressing forward he invades her space, jaw tight.

"Do you think it's that easy?"

Mouth falling open in a perfect o, she looks at him in confusion. Lost at his meaning and wondering what is going through his mind, it's difficult to read his body language.

"What?"

"Do you think our relationship is that... trivial? Do you think a few days without conversing is all it takes to end it?"

Anger and hurt color the words as they fall from his lips and land like daggers in her stomach.

But he's not finished, not by a long shot.

"You can't just push me away and replace me with someone else!"

His cry echoes around the room and she stands in shock, contemplating picking her jaw up off the ground. When he says nothing more, simply pushes out harsh breaths and squeezes his fists by his side she finds her voice.

"What are you talking about? I'm not doing...that."

"Then what are you doing? You don't answer my calls or call me for days and now you're here with someone else, who flirts with you right in my face." She collapses guiltily. "How can you not have time for me? I'm your boyfriend, why can't you make space for me?"

Is there any room for me?

Like a wave, all her emotions and pain and insecurities and fears come surging out, his question the blow that broke the dam.

"You're the one who has no space for me. I saw you two that day, you looked like you fit. Two musical prodigies, it made sense. More sense than you and I. I can't do it, I can't pretend that I don't see everyone looking at us. Nobody understands why you'd want me. You should be with someone like her, she's from a good family and she plays the violin better than I'll ever--"

His hands latch onto her shaking shoulders, pushing her backwards until her violin collides with a click into the piano.

She whimpers as he gazes down at her, frustration streaming off him in waves.

"You don't understand how I could want you? I'll explain it, in detail. Listen closely because I don’t want to ever need to this again"

She gulps.

He swaggers closer, arms reaching over her shoulders to rest on the smooth surface of the piano. Brushing against her shoulder before gently gripping the straps of her violin, he removes them before placing the instrument carefully on the ground. Taking the weight from her shoulders.

His warm breath caresses her skin before he cups her face, hands tender on her hot cheeks. Air catches in her throat as she shyly looks up at him.

Almost instantly he smiles in return, dimples greeting her as his smile warms her to her core.

"I like how you make me smile, whenever I see you my heart feels at ease and I feel like everything will be okay. I like how you smile at me, you look prettiest when smiling at me."

Her cheeks flush from his compliments and she turns away embarrassed only to feel his sure fingers on the point of her chin, dragging her back into the penetrating line of his eyes; refusing to let her push him away again.

"I like how hard you work to be better, I like how you never stoop to others level you're kind to everyone despite how they treat you. I like your dimples, I always want to touch then. I like how you listen to me and want to hear about my life. I like that you don't treat me like I'm breakable and you tell me when you don't like something."

Then the air crackles as his hands smooth down her skin before settling on her neck, tugging her closer, she reaches out to grab his waist for balance.

"I like kissing you, I like how your lips feel on mine. I like how you open up for me. I like the little sounds you make."

Like a manifestation, a small shocked gasps tumbles from her lips and his eyes meander down to look at them in response. His own cheeks are scorching, red and flushed too but he doesn't seem like he has any intentions of stopping. Fearlessly pushing past his comfort zones.

Pulling her against his body now, his fingers twisted in the dark material of his button down shirt, he gazes at her adoration pouring from his eyes.

"I like you Song-ah. I like you so much. I don't want anyone else, there's space for you. In my heart there's so much space just for you."

He brushes her hair out of her face, his face open and vulnerable.

"Do you want it?"

Do you want me?

She looks at him as he awaits her answer and wonders what she ever did to deserve this? It seems too good to be true, she has never won anything in her life coming in last at everything that has counted. So how can this be true, how can she possibly deserve something has precious and valuable as his heart?

Smiling in defeat she nods at him, "I want you."

His joy is contagious as he grabs her, strong arms wrapping her in a warm embrace. She returns the hug, face smashed into the soft cotton of his shirt.

Slowly they draw away from each other, smiles not fading and then she catches his incessant gaze on her lips.

"Can I?"

Blushing she bites her lip nervously, tingling under his close appraisal. At the merest nod of her head he's on her, his lips crashing into her own as his hands tighten on their new location on her hips.

Tilting onto the tips of her toes she presses back, moaning as his tongue teases the seams of her closed mouth, her arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

His taste explodes on her buds as his slick muscle swipes around her moist cavern, he delicately sucks on her tongue enticing her to join him in his explorations. She trips as she attempts to press even closer to him, breaking their deep embrace.

Embarrassed at her lack of grace and coordination she opens her mouth, apology on the tip of her tongue. Before his next move steals her breath.

Easy as pie, he grips tightens on her waist as he hoists her up until she's sitting on the edge of the grand piano.

Her blush is now painful as it rages on her exhausted cheeks.

He smiles at her, disarming her before he steps forward her new position bringing their lips in perfect proximity.

"You looks pretty when you blush too." He teases and she slaps his chest in reprimand but he catches the appendages, trapping them between their body as he descends on her mouth again.

Kisses deeper and slower this time, largo as their tongues roll and plunder. His hands stroke her hair, his fingers traipsing across the soft skin of neck. He suddenly grabs her hips dragging her across the smooth surface until their groins collide and she gasps loudly at the hardness that jabs into her.

They both bolt back, frenzied eyes meeting as they take in this moment.

She's never gone this far before, never even kissed anyone. He is the owner of so many of her first, it's terrifying.

Looking down she sees his straining erection, a long line tenting the satin smoothness of his dress paints. Blushing she forces her eyes from the tempting sight, to look at his face. Momentarily frozen under his look, first time seeing them set ablaze with desire. All for her. 

"Are you okay?" His voice rumbles making her skin pebble with anticipation.

Is she okay? She can't quite answer such a big question, her head spinning from everything that has happened. She feels like her skin is going to burst apart and he's the only thing keeping her together, both her destruction and her resurrection.

Wrapping her legs around his waist she boldly yanks him back into her orbit, kissing the question off his mouth. He stills for a moment before responding, devouring her mouth as she opens up for him, slick noises loud to her ears.

Her lips are raw and tender as they kiss making up for all their time apart, then she feels her world tilting as he presses her back onto the piano, lips still swallowing her own until her back meets the cool material and their lips disengage.

He looks at her, her body spread across the instrument like an offering. She feels naked under his gaze.

Then his eyes shift to her skirt, high on her thigh from her sprawled position and she starts to sit up but he's faster to react, catching the edge of her skirt and fingering the material that trails across her thigh.

After thick moments of silence, he gazes up at her slowly drawing her skirt up her thighs, the cool air rushes across her hot skin and she gasps and squirms under his steady hands.

He stops at her movement glancing at her, she bites her lip, opening her legs ever so slightly and that's all the answer that he needs. Tugging the material slowly, slowly, adagio up her skin pushing it over her hips and his groan causes wetness to pool between her legs, she looks away in shame.

He fingers at her stark white panties, she jumps at his first touch on the skin above her undergarment. Peering down to watch his eyes locked on her in awe, his long fingers running across her skin before he stops to tug at the cute little bow on the top of her underwear.

Eyes never leaving hers, he drags the thin material down pausing to give her a chance to stop him, one word from her and this will all come to an end she has no doubts.

Tacet.

He pulls the material down, down before dragging it off her feet and folding it neatly in a square before placing it on a chair to the side.

"Beautiful."

His eyes are smoldering on her skin as she eagerly awaiting his next move, equal parts excitement and anxiety.

Clutching her eyes shut she grips futilely for purchase, before he knocks the breath from her lungs with his first slow drag on her opening, his tongue swiping through the moisture dripping from her. A gasp is punched from her chest, as he licks at her again, deeper the second time almost slurping at her and she cries out from the foreign sensation, pleasure ravaging her body.

"Ah! Joon-young ah!"

He surges at her cry and subsequent proclamation of his name, nimble fingers soon joining his tongue and pushing knuckle deep into her wet bud playing her as expertly as his beloved piano, her whines and whimpers serving as music to his ears.

Using two fingers he pries her lips open, exposing her further to his hungry eyes and mouth. His tongue stiffen into a point he jabs into her drenched hole, collecting her sweet nectar as he swipes across her walls.

She pants loudly, grabbing his hair in warning as she feels a ball tightening in the pits of her stomach, another first as he thrusts into her over and over, her skin puckering up in anticipation.

"Please, I, I...."

As her body nears its crescendo, release blinding her as pleasure flashes blinding white, suddenly he pulls away, she whines from the emptiness crying out for him.

When she opens her eyes in a weak glare, she finds him bent over the piano his bangs sweaty as they stick to his forehead. Gathering herself she sits up, eyes widening in surprise and arousal when she sees his erection jutting from his own fly and his fist wrapped around the rigid ruddy flesh.

He'd been touching himself while tasting her. That had been enough to hurl him dangerously close to the edge. Something like pride bubbles in her chest.

Clamoring off the piano, her heels clicks when she lands on the floor and that catches his attention.

He looks up at her with dazed eyes, looking younger with his bangs skewed and messy, his lips shiny with her condensation.

Taking the lead she grasps his hands tugging him until he snaps out of his stupor, within two steps they reach the piano bench and he looks at it and then her, puzzled before she gently presses his shoulders and seats him on the bench.

It's his turn to gasp as she climbs into his lap, her face scarlet red as his erection brushes against her sacred flower.

"Are you sure?" He asks, using every last bit of control to keep his hips still even as his body aches to plunge into her wet hole, mere inches away the heat wafting off all too tempting.

"Yes." She watches as he grips himself by the base, rubbing the head through her juices and her head falls back from the sensation and then his tip is at her entrance and she holds her breath.

He reaches up to hold her face, forcing her to meet his eye, "Breathe." He commands and as she inhales he slides into her, breaching her tight opening with one long smooth thrust upwards.

Her arms tighten around the wide stretch of his shoulders as gravity drags her further down his impressive length, pain and pleasure warring for dominance.

"Just a minute." She pleads and instantly he stops, rubbing soothing circles on her back as she loosens around him. When she can breathe again, she lifts herself up before sliding back down pleasure knocking pain back on its ass.

Immediately she needs more, lifting up again before slamming down onto his hard cock, wet sounds echoing off the walls and at first he is motionless, simply letting himself be used by her. But then he grips her tight cheeks, using them as leverage as he plants his feet and viciously pistons into her, her shriek deafening in this room made for acoustics.

They crash into each other, as they chase their release, his fingers easily unbuttoning her shirt and pushing it off her skin before catching her pebbled nipples through the thin lace of her bra. Her soft breasts jiggle as she bounces in his lap, his hard length driving into her, over and over and over.

At a particularly brutal thrust of his hips, she loses her precarious balance and falls back, instantly he grips her waist slowing her descent and lessening the blow, her back crashes into the piano keys and jarring dissonance filling the air.

They both glance at each other before smiling, recalling their last mishap with the piano after their first kiss.

Her sprawled position on the piano opens her wider and without pause he thrusts up into her again, tugging her back to meet his movement.

Light flashes behind her eyelids as he fucks into her, the piano crying out underneath their onslaught. She's too close to care and his frenzied thrusts make it clear he's not far behind.

He pries her eyes open once more, before kissing her. The gentle press of his lips in complete opposition to the hard hits of his hips. 

"Please, come." He whispers, begging her and simultaneously informing her of his plans.

She feels every molecule in her body burst apart as she vibrates on the piano, walls tightening around his length as he struggles to thrust through the vicelike grip she has on him before a hot stream fills her up, sticky and leaking, and he melts under her his head falling onto her belly.

It feels..... weird. Not nearly as sexy as it's depicted in videos. But a piece of her is giddy to be so full of him, her blush permanently stained on her cheek at this point.

Gently he drags himself out of her, she shudders as she feels his release leaking out without him there to keep it in. When she glances down pearly white substance is smeared across the keys of the piano.

She immediately feels filthy, complete disbelief at what exactly they'd done and where they'd done it. She covers her face in shame.

Something brushes against her sensitive skin and her eyes pop openly only to shriek as she watches in horror as Joon-young, cleans up the mess between her legs and the piano keys with a handkerchief.

Her handkerchief to be exact.

Grinning bashfully at her he shrugs, shoulders now light as his hair flops on his face.

"I'll wash it later."

Too embarrassed to answer she merely stands up, small smile tugging at her lips as she picks up her neatly folder panty before stepping back into it.

"Do you see now?" Do you see how much I want you? How much space there is, just for you?"

She's fighting losing battle. The irony isn't lost on her, the one time she loses it's the best thing that's ever happened to her.

In the hallway Jung-kyung pounds her fist into the wall, arriving minutes ago to practice with Joon-young for her recital only to hear the loud crashes of a piano keys. She'd been worried about him, was he angry because she was late? Missing her terribly?

She'd rushed to open the door only to stop frozen as she heard moans following the clash of the piano, soft feminine moans followed by a voice she knew all too well. Jealous and rage consumed her at the thought of that...nobody touching her Joon-young.

Taking as deep breath she turns around walking away, she will not give up on him but staying right now is impossible she can't bear the thought of seeing him glowing from being with someone else. This was probably how he felt watching her all these years.

She will be patient and wait for him.

They are destined and his time with Song-ah is fleeting, she knows he wants her. There isn't space for anyone else.

#do you like brahms? #do you like smut #lee young joon #chae song ah #joon young x song ah #piano smut #smut in c major #sourface is delusional #lucky handkerchiefs #cheesy music analogies and terms #I have no regrets

[lost-little-fawn]

untitled 1 

there's this cloying molasses pain inside me

that i dont think will ever really be healed. 

fluttering bugs that nest in my organs: 

i used to think it was butterflies (when i 

was naive and untouched; (pure)) 

but now, with age comes wisdom and i 

recognize it as cicadas by the white noise 

buzzing. every once and a while - every 

all of the while they burrow out from my bones, 

from the little nests and holes in 

my marrow and they scream. scream 

to be heard- to be seen- to exist 

and then they suffocate on the years 

and years of buried and repressed 

memories and the coping mechanisms 

i acquire trying to ignore them- 

they beat their tiny insect bodies against 

my glass and metal twisted steel organs, 

a work of art worthy of display at the moma

untitled 2 

ive tried so hard for so long to get better. 

i did every page in my dbt workbook 

(even thought mindfulness requires a minds eye) 

nothing works. nothing eases the hurt. 

the blood letting drains it temporarily, 

but never long enough for relief. my 

body is permanently in fight or flight mode, 

fawn. barely anyone believes me. barely 

anyone is capable of caring, it was always 

my fault. i was a girl no, a baby, a peach, no, 

a ghost. an absence. and abscess. if

you drained me of all the hellfire in my head 

i would so quickly refill. mangirlboywoman: 

no matter what mask i wear or what i do

to my body it is still the body he touched 

the body he indulged in. his body, my mind. 

the well of pain always overflows

untitled 3 

i did not do what i needed to do to survive. 

i ran. i ran so far and so fast every bone in 

my legs shattered, and my lungs solidified. 

i am still always running, i dont know how 

to stop. i can barely hear my thoughts 

over the wind racing by me, daring me to 

go faster, to break the sound barrier and combust, 

sending those bone fragments out like shrapnel 

to infect and burrow into those around me. 

i will never run out of things to do but 

even doing whats supposed to feel better, 

i still hear his voice and obey. always i listen

untitled 4 

my body is a desert and the days that 

i think im better are just a mirage telling 

me it will soon get so much worse. if i 

go a day without thinking about him, 

my brain overcompensates by stuffing 

the painful down my throat, wrapped in 

barbed wire and heated red hot. 

a punishment - a penance. if it doesn't hurt 

it wasn't really as bad as i said it was, 

except it was worse. i still dont know 

how to stop feeling so empty. the person 

in the mirror moves independent from me, 

has a life and a family of its own. i 

was switched at birth. i want my real mommy

i want what was withheld from me. 

untitled 5 

i want to heal. my open wounds are 

my achilles heel, an infection risk. 

quickly devolve into sepsis. im so tired

of the debridement and the antibiotics. 

therapy doesnt work, ive said it all

so many times and in so many ways. 

so tired of having someone else inside

of me. theres always this longing, this greedy

need, but its not mine. a 50 mph minimum 

interstate, 5 o clock traffic jam. no 

matter what i buy or how much sex i have

or what i fill it with, the cars jammed 

together like sardines haunt me, oceanic. 

it takes so much longer to get where i need

to go. they reach for me with sticky fingers,

tarred and feathered, dripping with empty 

promises and desperate addictions 

just to make the pain softer around the edges. 

untitled 5 

theres so much rain, so much fear of tidal waves. 

they wash away the good and exchange it with cheap

replacements, a hell game of word association - 

- theres this 

clear, concise roadmap in my head that leads me

through a tour of the worst things ever done to me. 

the fear gripping me by my shoulders and shaking, 

spitting in my face, putting its hands around my 

throat. and i really, truly thought that was 

some form of love. it was my fault, i didnt deserve 

anything nicer, better, kinder, cushioned. i 

was not and am not stupid - he was just 

so god damned convincing. narc smile, wolf teeth, 

predator eyes, licking his chops as he 

sized me up as a prospective meal. 

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he injected corn syrup into my blood stream

and laughed at me as my heart stopped. i am 

the hive and i am the honey and i am the bees, 

the creator and the home and the creation.

his person, molded to his presence and 

factory checked and quality guaranteed. the queen

is bloating and decaying and her insides

are rotting out but the bees dont know better

and care for her regardless. the distress 

signals are firmly ignored, the hive called too 

many false alarms this month. soon, it will

all collapse. my impending doom mocks

me. there is never an outlet for my anger, 

my cup runneth over. it will never empty. 

#traumapoem #actuallytraumatized #trauma poetry

[darkkitsuneprincess]

Sweet Fantasies (Shingen x MC crack)

Pure, unadulterated crack, fresh from the depths of my sleep-deprived brain. I’m sorry not sorry.

This is probably a teaser for a longer something once Mitsuhide finishes torturing me in my mind *g* BECAUSE I WANT SHINGEN KITCHEN SMUT RIGHT NOW. Oooohhhhhh the places my mind goes with this. Why yes, I am an equal-opportunity Ikesen ho.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

Title: Sweet Fantasies Pairing: Shingen x MC Rating: T (No smut, all crack. Sexytime insinuated)

Description: While enjoying a sunny day in the garden, Shingen and MC discuss something MC misses from the future. Silliness follows. 

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The warmth of spring had finally arrived and the rain ceased, albeit temporarily. It was the first time in nearly two weeks the doors inside our home stood open, letting in the fresh air and allowing us out. I sat in the garden under a shower of cherry blossoms while Shingen worked on his latest project—a cradle for Yukimura and his new wife. The announcement hadn’t been made yet, but we could tell by the way Mariko carried herself that it would come soon. Many times over the last month I’d braved the incessant downpour to care for her during bouts of sickness while Shingen and Yuki were otherwise indisposed. The mental image of Yukimura figuring out how to handle a baby amused me so much that I couldn’t help laughing out loud.

“What, pray tell, brings my goddess such great joy?” Shingen asked. His head was bent against his work and wood shavings covered him from head to toe as he carved and sanded the rocker blades that would hold our gift.

“Just thinking about how much fun it will be to tease Yukimura about being a father,” I answered, still snickering.

Shingen laughed as well. “Lucky for Mariko, he’s a fast learner,” he said. This was true. Yuki might have been an awkward idiot, but he was sincere in everything he did and if it meant pleasing his wife, he’d go to the ends of the earth to do it. “It’s such a shame,” Shingen continued, still chuckling, “I have this goddess in my presence, yet she’s thinking of another man. I must be losing my touch.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re so corny.”

“Perhaps.” Shingen placed his tools to the side and opened his arms. “Come here. I suddenly have the need to hold my angel.” His cheesy lines made my face heat, but I slipped into his lap without hesitation and lay my head against his shoulder. Everything this man did, he did with the sole purpose of making me smile.

A purr of satisfaction rumbled out from his chest, coursing through me in the most delicious way. It would be so easy to distract him with a kiss; to drag him back to our bedroom and spent yet another day wrapped up in each other. Though as much as I would’ve enjoyed it, the sunshine was too warm and wonderful to ignore.

“Tell me, my love,” Shingen said, his fingers coursing through my unbound hair, “what is it like to raise children in your time?”

“I don’t really know,” I answered. We’d talked about kids a lot over the last year since returning from the future, but despite Shingen’s best efforts, it hadn’t happened yet. “The birth process is much easier thanks to modern medicine. Painkillers, a couple of days in the hospital, and you’re home. I imagine it’s easier to care for a baby with things like electricity and refrigeration. If a mom can’t produce breast milk, there are easily available alternatives. A modern kitchen definitely helps when preparing a little one’s food.”

“That kitchen of yours certainly was a sight to behold.”

“You know, of all the things I miss from the future, I think I miss my kitchen the most.”

Shingen’s hand stilled in my hair. We often talked of the future, but not of the things I missed. I chose not to dwell on the conveniences I’d given up. When we first returned, Shingen asked me often if I regretted leaving and I always told him no. To mention something I miss meant I had his full attention.

“What makes you miss that kitchen so much?”

“You’ll think it’s silly.” I turned my face into his chest to hide my embarrassment and laughed.

“Nothing you say is silly. Tell me what you miss.”

I hesitated and he pulled me back by the shoulders. Shingen made me look at him despite the burning redness in my face.

“The raised counters,” I admitted, mortified. Shingen’s forehead creased and a small half-smile appeared on his lips.

“The counters? Why ever would that be the thing you miss most?”

“I…I can’t tell you that part.”

“My angel,” he started, his gaze darkening as he stared at me, “you must remember that I am a master of information. I have ways of extracting it from you.”

Ways I’d enjoy, no doubt…

I leaned back against his chest, wrapping my arms around him so I didn’t have to look at him. His arms slid back around me, cradling me against him like I was the most precious treasure in the world.

“So, there’s always this scene in romance novels where the heroine is in the kitchen and the hero comes in to see what she’s doing.” A hysterical giggle escaped my throat. I couldn’t believe I was telling him this.

“If you feel that way about it, it must be a particularly good fantasy.” His lips land on my forehead and his fingers work back into my hair, calming me.

“Well, yeah…it really is.”

“Tell me about it. What happens after he finds her in the kitchen?”

“He interrupts whatever she’s doing by coming up behind her and putting his arms around her. Then…”

“Go on.”

I take a deep breath. “He’ll distract her by kissing her. And then he’ll put her up on the counter and…”

“And then he ravishes her?” Shingen asked, entirely too interested in my little fantasy world. I nodded against his chest and bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing again. “That is quite the fantasy, Princess. I understand why you would miss your counters so much.” There was a note of…is that jealousy?…in his voice. His shoulders tensed and though he didn’t say anything, I could tell he wasn’t pleased by the thought of me doing something like that with someone else.

“Shingen…” I inhaled again and leaned back, steeling myself against the surprising coldness in his gaze. When I touched his face with my fingertips, he didn’t lean into it like normal. “I…I’ve never actually done that, you know. I’ve just read about it and…”

And all the hardness in him melted away, replaced with a new, almost predatory determination.

“I see,” he replied. An indulgent smile appeared on his lips. “You miss the idea of raised counters because you think it means you’ll never have the chance to know how it feels for yourself.”

“Yes.”

“Then I shall give you your modern kitchen. I can think of nothing more arousing than my beautiful wife in her dream kitchen making sweets for me.”

“You always turn it around, don’t you? You make everything about you.”

“Of course,” he answered with a grin. “Now that my mind’s eye has shown me you in the kitchen, your belly rounded with our first child while you make those wonderful molasses dumplings of yours, I cannot unsee it.”

He pulled me close and kissed me, his skilled lips and talented fingers teasing over me and breaking down every inhibition I had and making me totally forget my witty retort about his various appetites. By the time he let me go, I was a quivering mass of need. He did such wonderful, horrible things to me. The jerk prided himself on it.

“Perhaps, my angel, I can assist in creating some new fantasies until that kitchen is ready.” He rose from the ground, lifting me in his arms like I weighed nothing, and turned for our bedroom, his lips finding mine again.

To be continued in a later story...

#ikesen #ikesen fanfic #ikesen shingen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen sengoku fanfic #ikemen sengoku shingen #crack #crackfic #what the hell was i thinking? #teaser fic