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celtic-crossbow · 2 days

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Blood Ties Chapter 28

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Pregnancy stuff - bodily fluids, etc.

A/N: Still worried about Daryl's character in this, but I guess I will probably continue to do that since this is a situation we haven't seen him in during these seasons. Anyway, game on.

Two days. Three centimeters. Nothing really new other than a few small, quick contractions that were nothing more than a tightening of your belly. Daryl stayed close, mainly venturing outside only to smoke or relieve himself, and, of course, he accompanied you when you needed to go. At that very moment, you were lying propped up on a mountain of pillows that everyone had given you. Daryl was sitting cross-legged by your feet, sharpening his knife.

“Do you think something’s wrong?” You asked, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth. The archer looked up and studied you, looking back down at the whetstone before shaking his head. The sound of the blade sliding against it made your skin crawl. “Can you—stop that please?” He sighed but sheathed the knife and tossed the whetstone onto the top of the things in his bag. He hadn’t been speaking much which concerned you. You watched him scrub a hand over his face before keeping it there and propping his elbow on his thigh. “Daryl, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” His voice was gravelly, tired even, but not unkind. You knew he had slept, or had at least been lying down with you while you did. “Ya hurtin’ or anythin’?” He still had his face covered.

“Mm-mm. Thumper’s awake though. It’s Cirque du Soleil in there.” His hand finally moved to smooth back over his hair, leaving the shorter pieces askew. “Hey.” His eyes met yours again, worry evident and overflowing. “Come over here?” His left hand clenched into a fist but then flexed open again. Daryl got to his feet, taking a single step toward you before bending down to press a kiss into your hair.

“Gonna have a smoke. Right outside if ya need anythin’.”

You watched him go and sighed, turning your attention to your stomach. “I think you’re scaring your daddy, Thumps. Me too, a little bit, if I’m being honest.” The baby hadn’t been as active over the last 24 hours, but Hershel had reassured that it was normal for movement to decrease in the last part of pregnancy. “I don’t know how good of a mom I’m gonna be. I didn’t exactly have a shining example. And your daddy—he’s gonna really need our patience, kiddo. Shit, we’re both gonna need patience.” There was the smallest ripple beneath your palm. “We’re flying blind here.”

Sounds of a scuffle on the porch had you sitting up straight in a flash, eyes wide and darting.

“Daryl?”

He staggered in the door—walker blood on his arm and his knife—before gaining his footing and bending to grab your boots. “Gotta go!” He was calling for the others while helping you get ready and grabbing up what blankets he could to stuff into the second bag. You could hear the moans and scratches and thumps just outside the wall. “C’mon, just leave the rest. We gotta move.”

You nodded, leaving the remaining blankets, pillows, and your sweatpants. It would be freezing in just your leggings but as long as you were alive, then you couldn’t really complain.

Daryl threw one of the bags on his back—along with his crossbow—while you shouldered the other bag. Knife in one hand, he took yours in the other and was pulling, the first of the herd of corpses tumbling into the house, slimy fingers grasping so closely that you felt the tug on your hood before they seemed to have lost their grip.

Everyone was sprinting out the back, Rick waiting until you and Daryl had passed to follow and pull the door closed behind him. The truck was blessedly close. Daryl was pulling the bag from your shoulder and opening the door simultaneously, letting you climb inside while he tossed both packs into the back and rounded to the drivers side. You had the key ready and in the ignition, your heart rate slowing the moment his foot hit the gas.

“Y’okay?”

Catching your breath—winded by fear and exertion and well, the extra weight of the human growing inside your belly—you looked over just in time to see him take his right hand off the wheel, flex his fingers as they moved just the slightest distance toward you, and then place it right back where it started.

“Yeah.” You answered breathlessly, swallowing and nodding. “Yeah, we’re okay.” He relaxed a little. His next question would have been about Thumper, so why not ease his mind quickly? “Are you okay? The one outside, before you—”

“M’alright. Ain’t bit or nothin’.” He mumbled, dragging his left thumb over his bottom lip before he began chewing on the skin there, thickened from all the scarred wounds he had given himself, small as they were. He was anxious. He had every right to be. You could go into labor at any moment and another temporary home had been overrun. It had been months of this shit. Run, run, run, and—for a change of pace—run again.

Hand steadying your belly, you twisted in the seat to look behind the truck for the headlights of the van. When you didn’t see them, you swiveled back to check the side mirror, finding it easier to watch in that position. There was nothing but the soft red glow of the truck’s tail lights. “I don’t see them.”

“They’ll show an’ we’ll pull off. Come up with somethin’.” His eyes slid over to you and back. “Can’t keep ya out on the road.”

You couldn’t disagree. You could feel your ankles swelling inside your boots. Your pelvis and hips ached, your lower back felt strained. Your stomach was tightening in a small contraction. You were just highly uncomfortable and more than a little tired. Your head fell back against the headrest, eyes closed. You must have dozed because when you opened your eyes, the truck was still and Daryl was gone.

“Daryl?” You quavered, grabbing the dashboard as you slid to the edge of the seat to be able to survey the surroundings. It was too dark. You could barely see inside the cab itself. “Daryl!” Just as you grabbed for the door handle, the driver’s side door opened at full tilt and the archer peered inside.

“M’right here. Y’okay?”

You exhaled sharply, not even realizing you’d been holding your breath. “What’s going on? Why’re you out there? Are the others here?”

Daryl looked over his shoulder, tapping his fingers against the top of the door before turning back toward you, looking at the seat instead of meeting your eyes. “Nah, they ain’t here. Ain’t seen no sign’a ‘em.” You could see the same worry you were feeling reflected in his posture.

“What will we do if they—” You couldn’t say it. You just couldn’t. Why did the world just insist on taking everything?

“Do whatever we gotta do.” Daryl sniffed, looking over his shoulder again. He was thinking the same thing you were. Neither of you knew the first thing about childbirth. You turned to get out of the truck, an ache in your lower back while your stomach tightened in a contraction making you wince, your fingers wrapped around the door handle. “Stay in the truck.” Your hand fell away but the pain remained. It wasn’t unbearable and after a moment, your muscles loosened. The pain in your back remained but lessened. “Y’alright?”

“Mhm.” You answered quickly. Laying back against the seat, you blew upward to move an unruly hair from your face. You were so tired but you couldn’t sleep, not while your partner was standing outside the truck alone and keeping watch. It wouldn’t even do much good to try when there was no comfortable position you could find with your back twinging. Still, you found your eyelids drooping. When the truck rocked the slightest bit, you didn’t startle. A warm hand wrapped around your shoulders and pulled, and you let yourself be guided to lie on Daryl’s thigh.

“Get some sleep.”

With a hum, you turned to face his stomach so your own could rest upon the seat. His hand settled on your ribs.

“I love you.” You mumbled, already halfway gone into slumber. The last thing you felt was his fingertips graze along your jaw.

It was daylight when you next opened your eyes, the taut skin of your stomach pulling uncomfortably tight while your back spasmed. The contractions themselves were merely annoying while the pain in your back was constant, made worse when your muscles tensed. Grimacing, you glowered at your belly. “Good morning to you, too.” You were no longer pillowed on Daryl’s thigh, actually alone in the cab. You made it up to an elbow when you heard voices. Familiar voice.

“You sure you’re alright? Y/N alright?"

“She’s sleepin’.”

You had to grab the steering wheel to haul yourself upright, opting for the passenger door. Carol was the first to see you and sprinted in your direction. You stood still and let her come to you, your ankles just too swollen and sore to move more than necessary. Once reaching you, she wrapped her arms around your shoulders with a little less enthusiasm so as not to jar you.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. When we didn’t see the truck—”

“I know. I was freaking out when I couldn’t see the van.”

She brushed your hair away from your face once she let you go. “We had to go around the herd and then figure out which direction you two went.” You smiled, but it was a weak attempt. Your back was still aching. “Are you okay?” Behind her, Daryl was watching you. You wondered if he was hearing anything Rick was saying.

You waved her off. “Yeah, I’m fine. So, what’s the plan?”

“Heading South, I guess? I’m not sure. I mean, the main thing is to find somewhere safe enough for you to have that baby. Lori won’t be far behind. A few weeks, at most.” Her eyes dropped to where your hand rested on your stomach and then back again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Go see what’s going on. I don’t really feel like walking over there. I”m just gonna wait in the truck.” After a moment, Carol acquiesced, calling over her shoulder for you to yell if you needed anything. You waved your hand over your head and let it fall to your back, pressing in on where the ache continued. Maybe it was time to tell Daryl something else was happening. Opening the door, you lifted your foot from the ground when you felt something gush from your opening, wetting your underwear and leggings. “Oh, great. And now I pissed myself. Way to go, Y/N!”

You left the door open and stepped back so you could reach into the truck bed for your bag. You’d have to change but you really really did not want to tell Daryl that had just happened. He was your partner and you were pregnant, so he’d understand but you were sure to get a ya did what now and that would just make you feel more embarrassed. Maybe you could call Carol over and she could help you out of the soiled clothes and hide them until they could be washed.

Standing on your tiptoes, you grabbed the soft handle of your bag when it happened again. Less of a gush, but a noticeable flow. That’s when reality roundhouse kicked you in the teeth.

Oh shit.

“Hey, Daryl.” You kept your tone even, unalarmed even if you were being absolutely ravaged by panic inside. You left the bag and lowered back down to be flat on your feet. Daryl’s boots were loud on the pavement but at a slow stride. Good. You hadn’t terrified him.

Yet.

“Yeah?” He noticed where you were standing and glanced into the truck bed. “Need your bag?”

“Well, yes and no.” Your abdomen tightened again, still painless, but aggravating the cramping in your back to a new level. With a hiss through your teeth, you knew you had his full attention without even looking at him.

“S’wrong?”

You were staring at your feet, expression pinched with pain and concentration while you persevered through the episode. Why the fuck did your back hurt? All too soon, Daryl’s boots were right in front of yours. “I—I think my water broke.” When you could finally think past the throb that was slowly ebbing away into the continuous ache, you raised your head to find him staring at the ground. And then your pants. “What?”

“Ain’t there supposed to be—I dunno—a lot?”

“How the hell should I know? You think I give birth on a regular basis?” You snapped, immediately murmuring an apology.

“Ya sure ya didn’t just—”

“No, I didn’t piss myself.” More fluid trickled from within you, a miniscule amount but enough to be noticed. “At least I think I didn’t? I mean, I was expecting more of a whoosh. Like Noah’s Ark level of liquid, you know?” And then you were silent. And so was he. You stared at one another, each waiting for the other to say something.

Daryl cleared his throat. “M’gonna—gonna get Hershel.” He turned but barely managed a step before he stopped, looking back over his shoulder. “Or I can stay here? Do ya need me here?”

“Just get Hershel. I’ll be fine for now. Can you get Carol too, please?” You watched him nod, noticed the tick in his clenched jaw, the way he was tapping each fingertip of his right hand against his thumb rhythmically. He was freaking out. And as you felt more liquid soaking into the fabric of your underwear and leggings, so were you. You were wet all the way down past your knees.

“Daryl said you needed me.” Carol’s voice brought your head up, your expression triggering the worry that took over her own. “What’s wrong?”

“I think—I either really had to pee or my water broke.” You shifted from foot to foot, carefully keeping your thighs apart. You had never felt so humiliated in your entire life. If your father could see you now—well, honestly he’d probably be laughing and saying take it easy, peanut, it’s just some wet pants.

“It’s okay.” Carol soothed, encircling her arms around your shoulders. “Anything else going on? Contractions?” You nodded. “How often?”

“I don’t know. Like maybe every half hour but my back is killing me. It just—it hasn’t stopped hurting since it started last night.” She was listening so intently that it made you nervous. “The contractions don’t hurt, but man, they make the back pain fucking horrible.”

Carol smoothed your hair and took your face in her hands, giving you that sweet Carol smile. “Sweetheart, I think that your water did break and that you’re in labor.” You felt your eyes widen and your breaths coming quicker. “It’s okay, just breathe. Daryl’s on his way over with Hershel.”

Daryl came straight to you, the nervousness surrounding him so strongly that it made your chest tighten further. He didn’t say anything as he usually did when you floundered over your responses. When Hershel asked permission to examine you then and there, you began to fidget.

“I guess there’s not much of a choice, is there?” You lamented, looking to your partner. His head was down and he was trembling. You’d have to talk to him later when there was no one else around.

“I’m afraid not.” Hershel could see you were anxious. His soft spoken words were proof enough of that.

Daryl climbed into the cab first and helped you in, letting you rest your head on his thigh while Carol pulled off your sodden leggings and underwear. The examination was quick, much to your relief.

“As far as I can tell, it was indeed your water breaking. We have no litmus paper for confirmation, but the source of the fluid appears to be from the vaginal opening and not the urethra.” You knew this would happen eventually but that made it no less terrifying. “You can likely expect the contractions to become more intense, closer together as you dilate. They may or may not be painful as we talked about. Daryl, you’ll need to time them.”

“Okay.” Was all he said, quiet and contemplative. Hands at your shoulder blades, he helped you to sit up.

“Rick,” the vet called out, “we need to find somewhere safe and fast.” The deputy jogged over, looking quizzically between all the faces. Carol quickly occupied the old man’s place with fresh clothing from your bag, covering your lower half from view. “Y/N will be giving birth soon and needs a quiet, safe enough place to deliver.”

“These are likely to get wet too, but you can’t ride around in soaked clothing. Beth and Maggie had some pads, so I thought maybe they could help, too.” You nodded robotically. This should be the happiest experience of your life and all you could feel was an overwhelming sense of foreboding. What if you screamed during the birth and brought down a herd? What if the baby cried too loud? What if something went wrong? What if? What if? What if?

Carol helped you get dressed and situated in the truck while Daryl looked over a map with the others. You watched him from the side mirror, smiling when you saw that he could barely focus, continuously glancing toward the truck. You could feel the beginnings of another contraction, the twitching inside before your stomach would tighten and you’d need to breathe through the pain in your back. It still wasn’t unbearable but it was enough to coax a whimper from your lips. Right in the middle of the episode, there was a gentle tap on the window. Lori was looking through the glass sympathetically, waiting patiently until you could use the window crank.

“How’re you holding up?” She asked, reaching in to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You saw no reason to lie. “I’m terrified.” Wringing your hands over your belly, you sniffled in an attempt to hold back the tears. Crying wouldn’t solve anything. “I don’t know what to expect. The pain, you know. What if I cause someone to get hurt because I can’t take it? What if something’s wrong with Thumper? What if—”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Her hand landed gently on your shoulder and you lost the battle with the tears that were demanding to fall. “Everything you’re feeling is normal. Well, as normal as it can be in a world full of the walking dead. It’s all going to be fine. All things considered, you’ve handled this pregnancy like a warrior. I have no doubt that you’ll get through bringing that baby into the world just fine.”

You wiped at your face almost angrily. “Really?”

“Really.” She smiled, looking as if she were going to say something else but her eyes moved to somewhere behind you. She squeezed your shoulder. “It’ll all be okay. We’re going to be leaving soon. We’ll find a safe place.” Another glance behind you and, holding her smile, she walked away.

You were rolling up the window when the driver’s door opened and Daryl climbed in, shutting the door behind him. “Ya doin’ okay?” His voice was just as shaky as he was.

“I’m okay.” You kept your expression soft and reached for his hand. He let you take it. “Are you okay?”

“Mhm.” He squeezed your fingers and pulled his hand back to start the engine and take hold of the shifter but he didn’t move it.

“Daryl?”

“M’scared shitless.” You blinked for a moment before quickly dismissing the shock from your expression. “Dunno what m’doin’. Dunno how—what m’s’posed to do to help you.” He was staring straight ahead, carefully avoiding your gaze. It was obvious that wasn’t easy for him to admit.

“Hey.” He ducked his head but he didn’t look at you. “We’re both lost here, but we’ve made it this far.” With a noise of effort and discomfort, you scooted across the seat. The movement had him looking your way with a quick turn of his head.

“What—quit it ‘fore ya—”

“Shut up.” You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him forward for a kiss. It was difficult to hold the position you found yourself in, your back singing with pain, but you both needed the comfort, the closeness. When you separated, you kept the hold on his neck and pressed your forehead to his. “We’re in this together. ‘We’ll handle it’, remember?” Clearing his throat, he waited a moment before he nodded, his forehead bumping yours.

The van pulled up alongside the truck. With a last kiss to his forehead, you slid back across the seat and slouched to take some of the pressure off your back. Daryl nodded to Rick and then pulled off the roadside and followed behind the others.

“That one actually hurt.” You breathed, rubbing a hand over your belly as the pain faded. You’d been on the road for about three hours, stopping at two homes, both with too many dead wandering too close by. Daryl glanced up at you and then back to the watch he had balanced on top of the steering wheel.

“Last one was ‘bout 21 minutes ago, this’un was ‘bout 52 seconds.” He sat the watch on the seat by his leg and switched hands on the wheel, resting his left elbow on the window panel so he could rub his thumb back and forth across his lip while he obviously chewed the inside of his cheek.

“So they’re lasting about the same amount of time but they’re definitely getting closer together.” Shifting in the seat a little, you hissed at the twinge of pain in your back. “God, my back is the worst part right now, but if it doesn’t get any worse than this, I’ll be golden.” You were very doubtful you’d be that lucky but one could dream, right?

“M’sorry.” Daryl mumbled from behind his thumb.

Your brow furrowed, your head shaking back and forth in confusion. “Why are you sorry?”

“M’the reason you’re goin’ through this.” He cleared his throat sharply, biting into the side of his thumb with more vigor than you’d ever seen before.

“Last time I checked, I was a willing participant in the creation of this tiny human.” You chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. There was a dense fog of tension building inside the cab, one you intended to disperse as quickly as possible before it could soak into either one of you. “This is our baby, Daryl. We decided to do this together.” You started to reach for him but thought better of it for the moment. “We’re going to do this together.”

He looked over at you, glancing back at the road every few seconds. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

You shook your head and smiled fondly. “If the baby is as quiet as you are when they’re upset, then we won’t need to worry about them attracting walkers.” You had meant it as a joke but the archer immediately blanched. “No, Daryl, I just—shit, that was the worst. I’m sorry.”

“Babies cry. How—what—”

“We’ll deal with it when we have to deal with it. Right now, let’s just focus on actually having a baby, okay?” That was enough to at least have him lapse into silence with a nod. You watched the sky darken, knowing two things: there would be no shelter before dark and the vehicles would soon need fuel. Daryl must have been thinking the same, his eyes darting down toward the dashboard. His thumb was hovering in front of his mouth, a smear of blood on each.

“Gonna have to camp tonight.” He swallowed so hard that you saw his throat working. “They’re gonna hafta go lookin’ for fuel.”

“You’re not—”

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” The conviction in his tone filled your chest with warmth, even if he didn’t look at you. You couldn’t express your appreciation before another contraction began to build.

“Fuck.” You breathed, holding the side of your belly with one hand while the other reached for the dash. Daryl didn’t need clarification, just reached to pick up the watch. Your back screamed while your stomach tightened and cramped, pulling a whimper from within you that you couldn’t seem to stifle. Breathe, idiot, you told yourself. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It wasn’t the worst pain you’d ever felt, but it still fucking hurt. Seconds felt like hours but soon enough, you could feel the pain ebbing away, your body relaxing. “Christ.” You fell back against the seat, completely wrung out.

Daryl was still holding the watch, glancing between it, you, and the road. “Minute an' four seconds, last'un was 19 minutes ago.” Before you could comment, the truck sputtered and jerked. The archer was barely able to get it onto the side of the road before it died. He flashed the lights to signal the van, the brake lights illuminating the road ahead as Rick turned around. Daryl’s hands dropped to his lap, his head bowed to stare at them. “Gettin’ closer together.” He almost whispered.

“Yeah.” It was all you could think of to say. “I am not having this baby on the side of the road.” Even as the words left your mouth, you didn’t believe a single syllable.

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subskz · 1 day

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multitasking - s.cb

content: sub changbin, dom reader, pegging, lots of teasing, slight dumbification, binnie cries a little, male squirting, praise, handjob, female reader

word count: 4.5k

“One, two, three. One, two, three. Just like that, okay?”

Changbin’s breath came out in shudders, so noisy that you wondered if he could even hear you over them. Judging by his scrunched up nose and furrowed eyebrows coming together to form an adorable look of concentration, you doubted it. He was focused on one thing and one thing only.

“Binnie,” you sang. “Are you listening to me?”

Just to make sure you had his full attention, you brought the steady roll of your hips to a halt, keeping your strap buried inside him, but denying him the friction that had wiped all coherent thoughts from his brain. His body rocked for a few seconds more even after you’d stopped, operating purely off muscle memory. Then, it turned into squirming, hips twisting helplessly in the sheets to try and regain the buildup of pleasure he’d suddenly lost. You watched him wiggle around, half-amused, half-endeared as he finally blinked his hazy eyes open to process what was going on.

“Mm?” he mumbled; drowsy, like he’d been stirred from a dream. “S-sorry? I didn’t…”

His gaze fully refocused to find you smiling down at him. On your end, you could’ve sworn his pupils dilated just a little bit more, painting his irises black and glazing them over. They looked so innocent, you’d never guess what he was really pleading for.

“I said,” you began playfully, running your palms up his twitching thighs just to tease him. They felt especially thick under your touch with all the tension they were holding, you couldn’t resist digging your nails into his flesh, hard enough to leave crescent-shaped indents behind. The tight clench of his muscles was almost as satisfying as the sweet little gasp he let out. “Are you listening to me?”

Changbin swallowed down the saliva that had begun pooling in his mouth, sucking in a deep breath to find his voice again. “O-oh, yeah.” He shifted on the mattress to inch himself closer to you, as if your strap didn’t already have him filled to the near brim. “Yeah, listening. Sorry.”

“What number are we on, baby?”

He paused, doll-like lips curving deep into a pout. It was almost cute enough for you to let him off easy—almost.

“I…I don’t—” he chuckled nervously, eyes flickering to the side. “F-four?” You shook your head. “Five?”

You could tell he was growing restless, even when he was doing his best to behave himself. His dick twitched against his stomach, crying out for you to just forget about the count and start thrusting into him again. All the blood in his system must’ve pooled hot in his abdomen by now, you couldn’t even blame him for not being able to think straight.

“S-sorry, I really can’t remember,” he stuttered, embarrassed. “Again?”

It was the second or third time Changbin had lost track by now, and he once again found himself cursing the second he’d ever let his pride rope him into this tortuous little game you’d proposed. He’d never been one to back down from a challenge, even if it was a challenge that you both knew full well he’d fail miserably at. That, combined with his insatiable need to impress you clouding his better judgment, had him playing right into your hands.

“I can multitask!” he’d protested. “Do you know how much work it takes to be this cute and sexy at the same time?”

“So much work,” you’d agreed solemnly, trying not to crack a smile over the defensive squeak in his voice. “Then this should be no problem for you, right?”

From the moment you’d first bottomed out inside him, Changbin had gotten the sense that he’d already lost.

“I’m trying to help you, baby,” you pouted down at him. His eyes fluttered shut as you dragged your index finger along his plump, wet lips, mesmerized with the cute popping sound they made every time you prodded at them. “If you’re too dumb to count by yourself, just repeat after me.”

“N-no, Binnie’s smart,” he insisted, muffled by your finger. His legs squeezed around your waist like they had a mind of their own, trying to rub against each other and generate some friction. “Not dumb. I can do it, lemme do it.”

“Yeah? Let’s try and make it past three this time.” You gave his cheek an affectionate pat. A shiver ran through his body as your hands glided down to his hips, gripping his soft flesh to stabilize yourself before inching out of him bit by bit.

Immediately, Changbin’s attempt at counting was cut off by his own whine, stretching out for every second the silicone dragged along his walls. Then, you heard it, shaky and breathless as you pushed back inside him.

“O-one.”

His stomach rose sharply under your palms as you pulled out a second time. Before you’d even snapped your hips forward again, he gasped out a “two”, all too eagerly. You giggled, waiting a few extra seconds just to test his patience

“Two,” he repeated with a tinge of desperation. He looked lost, like he was genuinely wondering if he’d already managed to mess up the order somehow.

You felt a tinge of pity; he really was trying his hardest for you. So, you followed through, deciding to take it slow this time so he actually stood a chance in counting your thrusts. His foggy brain was grateful for it, but his body, not so much.

“Th-three—ah. Three. Faster, please?” he barely got the words out in time before he felt that delicious stretch again, coaxing an especially high moan. “F-four.”

You could practically taste the hunger rolling off his skin in warm waves. Every needy noise that grew louder his throat, every jerk of his hips begged you for more, even if he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up with it. His teeth sank into his bottom lip when you pushed back inside of him without missing a beat—faster, just like he’d asked for, and as deep as your position would allow. You dragged your hands up and down his stomach in unison with the slide of your strap; such a simple touch, but enough to disrupt his concentration all over again.

“Fi—” he began. His voice failed him, cracking pitifully as you grabbed his bouncing chest at the very same instant you brushed against his sweet spot, digging your fingers hard into the plush skin. “F…f-fi…fuck.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, throwing his head back against the pillows as his resolve fully crumbled. The sensation of your palms pressing against his nipples was already dizzying enough, but once you took the hardened buds between your fingers and pinched, he was a complete goner. He made no effort to keep counting even when you didn’t stop rocking your hips, instead letting his mouth hang open uselessly, spilling out another long, shameless moan that made goosebumps rise on your skin. Just a few strokes in, and he was already so far gone.

You let him get away with it for a bit longer, taking the time to admire his dark, messy curls sprawled out against the white pillowcase, even fluffier than usual from all his tossing and turning. Everything about him was so soft. His pecs spilled out between your fingers as you pawed at them, his full cheeks were flushed red and his lips were swollen into a cute, puffy ring after how much he’d nibbled on them. It took all your willpower to not give in to the irresistible sight and keep pounding into him until his head really was too empty to think anymore.

“So pretty, Binnie. Wanna keep you like this forever,” you murmured. You could feel his heartbeat pick up over the praise, pulsing faster under your palms. Then, all at once, you forced your hips to stop and snapped him out of his daze yet again. “But a pretty boy like you still needs to listen.”

“M-mmph,” he mewled. His body chased after your touch, protesting the loss before he even fully realized what was going on. “N-no. Sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t stop, please?”

“I only stop when you stop.” Your hum was deceptively sympathetic as you watched him fist the sheets in frustration, biceps bulging and chest heaving. His throat bobbed as you closed his slack jaw and tilted his chin up, brushing your thumb delicately over his tiny scar to urge him to look at you. “What’s got you so distracted, hm? What’s on my baby’s mind?”

He forced his eyes open again, so dark that you could see yourself reflected in them clear as day. They gave you your answer before he even said it.

“You,” he breathed. It was a reply he’d normally be proud of, but with the way you were staring him down from above, he couldn’t stop a sheepish giggle from rising in his throat, lips twitching at their corners and cheeks bunching up.

“Me?” you echoed. “Or this?”

You slid your strap back inside him in one sharp thrust, angling it so that the tip rolled against the roof of his walls and hit his prostate perfectly. He cried out as if on command, high-pitched and sweet. “Ah! Yes, r-right there.”

Even your own rules were becoming less convincing of a reason to deny him when you knew those were the kinds of sounds you’d be missing out on. But you were on a mission, today; teaching Changbin how to multitask, or, toying with his body until he couldn’t take it anymore—whichever came first.

“There’s my answer.” You feigned disappointment, flattening your palm against his stomach and pressing down right around where you guessed the head of your strap had reached inside him. “All you care about is being filled up, huh, baby?”

“N-no, no.” His hand pawed around blindly in the sheets for a moment before he found you, grabbing on to your wrist and pushing your hand harder against the soft pudge of his tummy. You weren’t sure if he’d done it just to gain some kind of stimulation, or because he was just aching to be as close to you as physically possible, but to his credit, he forced himself not to lose his train of thought even as the sensation had his eyes rolling back.

“Binnie’s a good boy. ‘M only like this ‘cause of you. I need you, please.”

He was right; he was such a good boy. He could forget how to count, forget how to close his mouth, forget how to listen, but he’d never ever forget how to say please. That was something you didn’t have to teach him. Still, you didn’t give him what he wanted just yet, instead tracing gentle patterns on his skin, just above where his cock was leaking out tiny drops of precum. It took a few moments for him to connect the dots, but finally, he rasped out the word you were looking for.

“Four…n-no, wait, it was five,” he stammered. “Please, don’t stop, please?”

“Good boy,” you cooed. Grabbing hold of his thighs, you used all your strength to pull your bodies closer together, lifting his legs and settling them around your waist for easier access. A cute, flustered giggle escaped him as he scooted down the mattress, melting into a sigh of pleasure when you were able to nestle your strap even deeper inside him than before.

His fingers sank into the sheets, gripping them so tight that you could see the muscles in his forearms flexing. “S-six,” he gritted out. “M-mm, feels so good. More, please, more.”

The sound of skin on skin began to fill the room as you finally picked up your pace like Changbin had been begging for. You made every stroke count; deep and heavy, pulling out until just the head of your strap was left teasing his entrance, then sliding all the way back inside until your hips smacked against the back of his thighs. The new position immediately took a toll on him, you could tell by the growing lapse in his counting. Every time you left his walls fluttering around nothing, it took a few seconds before he remembered to call out the next number, just so he could feel the relief of you burying the toy inside him again.

“Nine,” he gasped. The building pressure in his core drained his concentration little by little, making for an adorable show of reactions for you the more his self-control slipped. Every pretty sound he made rang out in the thick, hot air around you, unrestrained and heavenly. Your gaze fell from his blissed out face to where his dick laid half-hard against his stomach, bouncing from the impact of your movements. It gave you an idea.

Changbin choked on his next number as you brought your hand to his head, scooping up the tiny beads of precum and curling your fingers around it. You felt him swell in your grip almost instantly, and when you began to pump his cock along with your thrusts, he fully throbbed in your hands with a fresh wave of heat.

“El-elev—ngh,” he slurred out, barely intelligible. “Three…four. No, t-ten.”

“Four? Ten?” you mimicked. “That’s not right, baby. Try again.”

You swirled your thumb around his leaking tip, effectively fizzling out the last of his thoughts. It was hopeless; the strokes of your hand were mixing up with the pump of your strap, muddling his everything together until he couldn’t distinguish between the pleasure. “Six…n-no, ah. Good, so good. I c-can’t—”

“You usually listen so well, Binnie,” you frowned. “What happened to my good boy?”

Changbin bit down on his bottom lip, so hard that you worried his cute little fang might dig deep enough to split the plush skin. You timed your thrusts seamlessly with the rhythm of your hand, sinking down on his cock as you pulled out of him, and gliding back up his length as you bottomed out again.

“Y-your hand,” he whimpered. “It’s confusing me, I can’t…feels too good.”

“Should I stop touching you, then?”

You released him from your grip, letting his dick fall against his stomach to twitch over the loss. His hips surged up in protest, a soft whine spilling out of him and growing even louder when you pulled your strap out of him in one fluid motion, leaving his walls clenching wildly for you.

“No, no,” he groaned, locking his ankles around your waist to try and bring you closer. “Please, ‘m so close. Please.”

Taking the silicone into your hand, you lined it up with his entrance, pressing the tip just hard enough against him to add an exhilarating pressure. His reaction didn’t disappoint; a full-body shudder, rippling through his muscular thighs, making his chest jump and his biceps tighten.

“You want it, baby?” you asked sweetly, circling the head of the toy around his rim.

“Yes, yes, please.” The way he rolled his body was nothing short of sinful, you almost gave in right there. His tiny grunts of frustration only grew the more your strap prodded at his hole, teasing the sensitive nerve-endings without giving him the satisfaction of slipping back inside. “Please, b-been so good. Give it to me, please.”

“I know, baby.” You inched the toy away before he could get any real stimulation out of it, brushing its slick tip against his inner thighs in a playful taunt. “Just tell me where we left off, and I’ll fuck you like a good boy.”

Changbin shot you a look of pure helplessness, eyebrows scrunching in dismay as it dawned on him what you wanted.

“I-I…I don’t remember,” he mumbled, not even trying to muster up a guess before he surrendered. “I got it all mixed up, I can’t—”

“I thought Binnie was smart?”

He squeaked in protest as you pulled your strap completely away with a click of your tongue. “I am! I a-am. Again, please? I’ll try again.”

It wouldn’t make a difference, he knew that as well as you did. But he said it anyway, as a last resort—anything to feel you stretching him out again, anything to hear you whisper honeyed praises into his ear as he fell apart for you.

“You’re hopeless, baby,” you murmured, brushing back his fluffy bangs to reveal his eyes. They were wide as moons, full of desperation and welling up with tears at their corners.

“Please.” The droplets spilled over before he could blink them away. You softened as they trickled down his flushed cheeks, darkening his eyelashes and glazing over his pupils.

“You’re crying?” Gently, you cupped his face to soothe him. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin as you wiped away his stray tears, only for new ones to take their place again. “You want it that bad, angel?”

The wet gleam in his eyes spoke for itself, but still, he managed a tiny nod.

“You look so pretty like this,” you marveled, rubbing the pad of your thumb under his eye to scoop up another bead trailing down his face.

Despite himself, Changbin perked up over your words. “Pretty?” he sniffled.

“Mm.” A mix of lube and tears smeared his skin as you tilted his chin up, looking him straight in his eyes to admire the fresh droplets gathering at their edges. They caught the light like rhinestones, a visual captivating enough for you to give him anything his heart desired in that moment. “Beautiful boy. My pretty little crybaby.”

Changbin’s nose scrunched up, a shy, downturned smile tugging at his lips. He knew there was a condescending hint to your words, but when they were spoken so sweetly, when you called him pretty in that voice—when you called him yours in that voice—he could do nothing but melt.

“Seriously. Don’t you like me too much?” He pawed your hand away in embarrassment, but you didn’t miss how his face lit up, visibly yearning for more compliments, for your approval.

You let out a fond hum. Just like that, you’d found the key to keeping him motivated. He sucked in a sharp breath of surprise as you took hold of your strap, realigning it with his entrance.

“Let’s try again.” You tapped the head of the toy against his rim, just to bask in the way it made him wriggle in the sheets. “Show me how good you are, baby.”

He nodded again, still timid, but revitalized by your encouragement. His lips puckered into a cute little rosebud for you, and with a soft giggle, you took the hint, leaning down to press them against yours. The wet trails on his cheeks cooled your skin as you kissed him, slowly, dragging your lips past the corner of his mouth to kiss away away his tears, too. His shaky sigh fanned out around you, warm and feather-light as you sank back into him, all the way to the hilt of your strap.

“One.”

You rested one hand on the mattress, bringing the other back to his dripping cock. It was still fully hard even after being neglected so long, jerking gratefully in your palm as you began to stroke it again.

“Two. Th—mm—three.”

“That’s my boy,” you praised. “I know you can do it for me.”

You matched the rock of your hips with the glide of your hand, just as you’d been doing before. It immediately took effect on Changbin, slurring his speech and making his face scrunch up. But he kept trying for you.

“Four…ah, please.”

“Good boy. Keep it up, okay?” You rolled your strap against his sweet spot, teasing it repeatedly with the curved silicone tip before pulling out again.

“Five. F-five, again, please.”

You indulged him. “Doing so well for me, Binnie,” you crooned, swiping your thumb over his swollen head and making his hips buck. “My smart boy. My good boy.”

“Mm, mm. Binnie’s smart. Your s-smart boy,” he agreed. He was so simple; spurred on by your doting, even as that familiar, hot coil in his abdomen started nipping at the edges of his mind again. “Your g’boy…ngh. So good.”

More tears trickled from the corners of his eyes as he squeezed them shut, trying to get ahold of his thoughts long enough to get out the next number. You were being so patient with him, so kind to him, he had to do his best for you.

“Six,” he whimpered. A new wave of droplets spilled over, this time, because the pleasure was growing too strong to bear. You picked up your pace as you drank in the addictive sight; his clenching stomach, tear-stained face, his bulging muscles grasping at the sheets. He deserved it when he took it all so well and looked so good doing it.

“Seven, eight—close! I c-can’t—!”

“Almost there, baby. Just a little more,” you encouraged him. “You’re so perfect like this. Don’t you wanna show me how pretty you look when you cum for me?”

His dick stiffened in your hand, both over your words and the way you wrapped your palm around its sticky tip. The squelching noise that each roll of your hand created started to mess with his head again, distracting him from his count.

“Eight…e-eight—ah, please. Please, please, please. ‘M gonna—”

“C’mon Binnie, you’re so close. Don’t give up now.”

“Ten, n-no, nine? Nine—?”

He clenched his jaw, hips surging up and walls tightening around your strap like he was afraid you might pull out at any moment. It was useless. No matter how desperately he tried to concentrate, the pressure in his stomach consumed everything else, emptying his mind a little more each time you filled him up. “S-sorry, ‘m sorry. It’s so good, t-too good.”

“I know, baby,” you purred, sensing that he’d reached his limit. “It’s okay, let it all out for me.”

Changbin’s words melted into moans again as you thrust into him with more force, giving him no chance to brace himself for each dizzying stroke, let alone keep track of them anymore. He wasn’t sure if it was because of how tortuously long the buildup to his climax had been, but the sensation creeping up on him felt more intense than usual, like a dam of water waiting to break. Everything felt amplified—the drag of the silicone along his ridges, the sensitivity of his nerve-endings at every point of contact, the dancing of your fingers around his cock—it was all dialed up to a hundred.

You thumbed at his leaking slit, unprepared for just how powerful of a reaction it’d elicit from him. He stiffened beneath you as a jolt of pleasure shot straight to his core, breaking the dam loose all at once.

Changbin’s broken sob sent a shiver down your spine. He arched his back off the mattress as his orgasm racked his body, spurting his release against the pad of your thumb. You stopped rocking your hips to admire him, completely taken by the sight unfolding before you. His cock pulsed in your hand with every wave of pleasure that passed through him, spraying out more cum than you’d ever seen before. It was noticeably different from the sticky white ropes you were used to—watery and messy. The streams splattered against his contracting stomach, glazing his skin with a translucent layer of fluid and coating your hand in the process.

He was panting by the time the last few drops of his release spilled from his aching head. Even as it dribbled down his hips and sank into the sheets underneath him, he didn’t quite understand what had happened, far too preoccupied with the tiny aftershocks rippling through his body.

Your fingers uncurled from his dick, letting it fall limply against his ruined stomach. He flinched as you ran your hand over his soft, soaked flesh, still hypersensitive after the climax that had shaken him more intensely than either of you bargained for.

“Look at that, baby,” you marveled, holding up your dripping fingers for him to see. “Your dick’s crying, too.”

Changbin’s eyes fluttered open, shiny with residual teardrops. They widened when he registered why his skin felt so wet, why the bed beneath him felt so sticky and warm, and why his muscles felt deliciously sore, like when he stretched them after a good workout. His cheeks flushed beet red, legs squeezing around your waist in a pointless attempt to cover himself.

“Oh my God. I c-can’t believe—” His face was hot with shame as he buried it into his palms, muffling a noise that sounded something between a giggle and a miserable wail. “I didn’t mean to. W-wait, don’t look, please.”

His babbling trailed off when you stroked his stomach, a gentle touch that masked how fast your heart was still racing over the effect you’d had on his body. You wanted to make it happen again.

“That was intense,” you murmured. “Are you okay, Binnie?”

He couldn’t find the courage in him to reply, too mortified to face you after making such a wreck of himself, too dazed to string a proper sentence together. All he could manage was peeking out shyly between his fingers.

You rested your hands over his to tug them away from his eyes and get a look at him. A soft objection rumbled in his throat, but he let you, anyway, mustering all his self-control to not shove his face in the pillows and hide away from your stare.

“M okay,” he reassured you quietly.

“Felt good?”

“Good,” he mumbled. “Too good. Wh-what did you do?”

“Ask yourself that, baby,” you drawled. Changbin shivered as you gave his hips a squeeze, an embarrassing mewl slipping past his lips when he clenched around your strap reflexively and realized it was still nestled deep inside him. “Look at the pretty little mess you made for me.”

Changbin let out another low whine. He gave up on maintaining eye contact, turning his head to squish his heated cheeks against the pillow. “Binnie’s shy.”

“You’re so cute.” You ran your fingers through his messy curls to ease his mind, relieved when you felt some of his tension relieve under your touch. “Do you have any idea how hot that was?”

Your words seemed to snap him back to his senses, clearing the fog in his head and reminding him of how he’d even reached this point in the first place. He made a tiny grunt of effort as he scrambled to prop himself up on his unsteady elbows, eyes widening with guilt. When he spoke, his voice was shot, edged with a delicious rasp after how much he’d strained it.

“I…” he giggled nervously. “I-I lost count again.”

You puffed out a light laugh of your own. Even you had completely forgotten about keeping track of your thrusts after watching Changbin fall apart so beautifully for you. Your little experiment may not have worked out, but you were far more interested in the outcome, anyway.

“Guess we’ll just have to keep practicing, yeah? Until we find out how many it takes for you to cum for me like that again.”

#skz smut #sub!skz #sub!changbin #changbin smut #skz x reader #changbin x reader #dom!reader #seo changbin smut

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bunnys-kisses · 12 hours

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werewolf!simon 🐺 (bc happy 3,000 followers to me <3)

you met because you were lost in the woods while camping. it wasn't your fault that all of the trees looked the same! but it led you into simon who led you back to his cabin so you could call the park ranger! simon even made you some tea before he called the land-line.

park ranger johnny or 'soap' said that the truck was out of service so it would have to wait until tomorrow. "you can be a gentleman, right simon?" he laughed over the phone. simon grumbled in response, this wasn't going to be the best idea.

it was the full moon after all.

simon allowed you your personal space as he went about his cabin. he even allowed you to use his bed for the evening. you told him that you were fine on the couch! the issue was that the bedroom could be locked from the outside, usually for his own protection. but tonight it was for yours.

"um... mister simon." you said, "i'm sorry that i'm intruding so much."

"it's alright." he got up from his spot in front of the fireplace. he walked past you and rubbed your hair as he went by, "the woods aren't a safe place."

"i was told only deer hang around here."

he chuckled, "you should be more afraid of men." he went to the nearby kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. he opened it with ease and took a sip, "man destroys."

"well." you stepped forward in a daring move, "you're a man and you're taking good care of this place." you swallowed, "i don't think the entire species is doomed."

he chuckled and took another sip, "i'm not a man."

you stilled, "so like an alien."

he put the beer down and pulled away from the counter, "more beast than man. every full moon, beasts like me roam the woods. sometimes we get a little hungry."

"so you would've eaten me?" you swallowed, you balled your fists just in case you had to make an escape.

he approached you, but you were frozen still. instead of touching you with force, it was so gentle. his thumb was dragged down your cheek, "no. i don't hurt pretty things. but i would've snapped my fangs at anything that tried to come near your tent. so for your sake, stay in my room. so i can't hurt you."

you found the courage to touch him back. your fingers dragged down the scar on his face, "but what if they come too close to your home?"

he smiled a little, "i'll give you my shotgun."

you swallowed, "well.. mister simon. maybe i need your protection?" it was better that you had a familiar face around the cabin instead of leaving it all up to chance.

he cupped your face, "i could hurt you."

you shrugged a little, "i'd rather you hurt me then some other man."

he brushed his thumb across your cheek, "well. then i guess i have to be on good behaviour then." then leaned in to kiss you on your forehead, "but i'll need to cover you with my scent."

you were soon stripped, you realized that simon has no sense of modesty. eventually you were tossed on the bed like you were a bag of potatoes. and simon pressed his weight onto you.

you pressed under a man who could easily snap your bones. but instead, you were doing weird beast-esque skin to skin contact. he rubbed up against you.

"mister simon." you squeaked.

"it's just simon."

"are you sure i can't just wear some of your clothes." they would fit.

"nah. gotta get it right into the skin." he said gruffly as he continued to snuggle against you. you didn't know what scent he was putting on you. all you smelt was old spice and aftershave.

usually for simon, he would've been pent up by now. the day was slowly waning. but he found himself getting tired. the usually sharp werewolf was turning into a metaphorical mush. it was like he felt safe in your arms.

the comfort of simon's bed plus your time hiking left you feeling drowsy too. it wasn't long before you both fell asleep. you didn't even feel the man turn into a wolf.

you simply turned to your side and get comfy against the thick hair that covered you. it was like sleeping under one of those expensive shag rugs that rich people had.

that paired with the weighed allowed you to sleep soundly as the full moon passed the sky. you were a relaxing force to this werewolf and you didn't even know it.

the next morning, johnny came by to pick you up but instead found you under the enormous weight of one simon riley. he was soundly snoring and the ranger just chuckled to himself.

"i'll come back later so you don't ma head off."

(this could be expanded on later. i'm calling it the 'howlin' for you' au aka the werewolf au)

#bunny speaks #call of duty #reader insert #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty smut #simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #werewolf!ghost #howlin' for you au #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #werewolf au #werewolf

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frudoo · 3 days

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John Price with his chunky baby and spunky baby mama 🫶

Warnings: Spit-up, normal baby things!!

Fluff ahead 🤍

“Better stop kickin’ them legs, little lady,” John huffs, squishing the giggling infant’s round cheeks softly to make her lips pucker out.

Her incessant babbling and the playful growls that come from your husband’s mouth coax you into the nursery. As you lean against the doorframe, you have to stifle a laugh—there are about twenty used wipes scattered about the changing table, and the rowdy little babe is kicking off every fresh diaper John tries to put on her. Suddenly, her cute little coos and gummy smiles turn into tiny grunts and a concentrated face. Your eyes widen, trying to warn your husband.

“John, she’s about to-!”

“Bloody hell!” He groans, holding a diaper over his weapon of a baby’s bottom.

The laughs don’t cease this time, covering your mouth as your chest shakes with spiteful delight. You walk over to your grimacing husband, hugging him from behind and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. He sighs in defeat, grabbing what seems like the thousandth wipe and starting the whole process over again.

“Think it’s funny, do ya?” John jokes, turning around momentarily to give you a playful glare.

“I think it’s hilarious, actually. She gets it from her dad,” you shrug, crossing your arms and cooing at your chunky baby.

“Ha, ha,” John mocks dismissively, giving his baby girl a stern look as he lifts her legs up yet again. She replies with a belly laugh, and his pursed lips turn upward into an amused grin as he slides the fresh diaper beneath her bottom.

“Got a pair o’lungs like her mum, though,” he smirks, fastening the sticky tabs to the front part of the nappy.

That earns him a soft smack to the back of his neck, making his shoulders dance with each chuckle he lets out. John zips up the pink camouflage onesie he’d put on her and lifts her into the air, pretending to groan like she’s the heaviest thing he could possibly lift. She babbles and stares down at him adoringly for a moment before staring off into space and chewing on her fist. He lowers her into his bent arms, cradling her and tapping her nose with the tip of his finger.

“Here, give her to me, I’ll go get her a teething ring,” you suggest, holding your arms out to your chubby little infant.

John laughs heartily as the sassy infant glances at you through her peripheral vision before returning her attention back to her old man. The heart-eyes she gives him make you pout, bottom lip quivering in mock offense.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I guess she just prefers her daddy,” he beams, lifting the baby up into the air once more, but making one crucial mistake—pressing his hands into her soft tummy.

You raise an eyebrow as John continues to brag and boast about the tiny human’s favoritism. He misses the way her squishy body jiggles with a silent burp. You don’t.

“Ain’t that right, lovebug? Daddy’s your very fav-” he stops mid-sentence when the waterfall of rancid milk spews out of the wriggly baby’s mouth and right into his own.

Wordlessly, you take your daughter (who seems rather proud of herself) into your arms and clean her up with a burp rag, leaving John open-mouthed and horrified in the middle of the nursery. You snicker as you kiss the noisy babe on her forehead, cooing to her proudly. With a final glance over your shoulder, you smile innocently at your husband with one last suggestion.

“Should probably brush your teeth before you come back downstairs.”

#THE BABY FEVER IS CALLING ME #BEING A NANNY ISN’T ENOUGH #john price loves chunky babies and chunky ladies send tweet #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #john price #john price x female reader #captain john price #captain price #captain price x reader #john price x reader #john price x plus size reader

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sturnish · 3 days

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౨ৎ Brothers Best Friend ౨ৎ || ⋆౨ৎ˚ Matt Sturniolo⋆౨ৎ˚ || Series Master List ||

ᡣ𐭩 | Warnings - Smut

ᡣ𐭩 | Summary- Matt and Nate have always been friends. But throughout their friendship, Matt kinda developed feelings for Nate's younger sister, Y/n, but shes off limits for 2 reasons, her boyfriend, and the fact that she's his best friend's sister! what happens when she comes home crying because her boyfriend broke up with her?

Y/n let out a frustrated sigh as she stepped into her room. Her boyfriend had just broken up with her, leaving her heartbroken and angry. She slammed the door shut, tossing her purse onto the bed before collapsing onto the floor. She knew she should probably just talk to someone about how she was feeling, but the thought of facing anyone right now made her want to curl up and hide.

As she laid there, sobbing into her knees, she heard a knock at the door. She didn't even bother getting up, certain it was her mom or dad coming to check on her. But when the door opened, it wasn't them; it was Matt. Her older brother's best friend, and the one person she knew she shouldn't be talking to right now.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. She looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy.

"Go away, Matt," she sniffed, wiping away a tear. "I just want to be alone."

Matt didn't move, just stood there, looking at her with those piercing blue eyes. She could see the conflict in them, the part of him that wanted to help and the part that knew he shouldn't. Finally, he seemed to make a decision.

"Look, I know I'm not supposed to talk to you right now, but I can't just leave you like this," he said, taking a step closer. "Just let me… I dunno, just stay for a bit?"

Y/n hesitated, feeling a mixture of annoyance and relief wash over her. "Fine," she muttered, turning away and curling back up on the bed. She heard him sit down next to her, but she didn't look at him. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

Time seemed to drag on as they sat there in silence. Y/n didn't know what to say to Matt, or even if she wanted to say anything at all. She just wanted to be left alone to wallow in her misery. But after a while, she felt Matt's hand on her shoulder, and when she looked up at him, she saw the concern etched into his features.

"He wasn't worth it, you know," he said gently. "You deserve better than that."

Y/n wanted to roll her eyes, but she couldn't bring herself to be that mean. "Thanks," she mumbled. "I guess."

Matt sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm not trying to make this about me, or anything. I just… I care about you, you know? And I hate seeing you hurt like this." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I mean, if you want, I could make you feel better. You know, take your mind off things for a bit."

Y/n looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice wavering. She knew what he was insinuating, and despite the anger and hurt that still coursed through her veins, a small part of her was curious.

"I came over here to smoke with Nate, but he went to the gas station to get us some snacks." he says, pulling a pre roll out of his jacket pocket along with a lighter. "what do you say?" He flicks the lighter on and holds it under the joint.

she nods and they sit together on the floor to smoke. He hands her the joint and she takes a long drag, feeling the familiar warmth spread through her chest.

"It's not fair, you know?" she says, her words slightly slurred. "I was happy with him, and now he just… just throws it all away."

"Well," Matt says, taking the joint back and taking a drag himself. "It's not like you could really say you lost anything." He pauses, looking at her intently. "Besides, you've always had me, haven't you?" He grins, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Y/n pokes Matts shoulder, "shut up'' she teases, but there's a hint of a blush creeping up her neck. "You're such a jerk sometimes."

"And you love it," he says, laughing. Y/n lays her head on his lap. "I'm serious, though. You're too good for him. Better things are coming, I promise."

They sit there, the smoke from the joint swirling around them, and Y/n begins to feel a little bit better. Not great, but better. She realizes that maybe Matt was right; she had always had him. And while she knew she couldn't rely on him for everything, it was nice to know she had someone who cared about her.

"what if i just kiss you?" Matt says, breaking the silence. "just to make you feel better?" He looks down at her, his expression serious.

Y/n laughs, shaking her head. "You're such a dick," she says, but she can't help the tiny smile that creeps onto her lips. "Fine, but only if I get to kiss you back."

Matt leans down, his lips meeting hers in a soft, gentle kiss. It starts out sweet and innocent, but quickly deepens, their tongues tangling together as they explore each other's mouths. Y/n feels a jolt of electricity run through her body, and for a moment, she forgets all about the pain.

When they finally pull away, they're both breathing heavily, their faces flushed. "See?" Matt says, grinning. "I told you I could make you feel better."

"Yeah," Y/n says, her voice slightly raspy. "You did."

"what if i do it again?" He says, his hand resting around her neck, pulling her closer. Y/n feels herself growing wet between her legs.

"Okay," she whispers, and then he's kissing her again, his tongue dancing with hers, and she loses herself in the sensation. She forgets about everything else except for the way his mouth moves against hers, the way his hand feels on her skin.

When they finally come up for air again, she's breathless and disoriented.

Matt kisses her neck, trailing his lips down to her collarbone. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, nibbling gently on her skin. "And you taste so good."

She moans softly, arching her back into his touch. "Matt," she whispers, her fingers tangled in his hair. "I…"

He looks up at her, his eyes intense. "Do you want more?"

She nods, her heart racing. "Yes," she whispers. "I want more."

He pulls back, looking down at her body. "You're wearing that?" he asks, gesturing to her tank top.

She nods, suddenly self-conscious. "I don't have a spare."

He smiles, running his fingers down her stomach. "Then we'll just have to make do." With a swift motion, he rips her tank top off, revealing her bra to the cool night air.

Y/n gasps, her nipples hardening instantly. "Matt," she whispers, her hands going to his shoulders.

He leans in, taking one of her nipples into his mouth and sucking gently. "God, you taste so good," he groans, moving to the other one. "So fucking good."

She arches her back off the floor, her hips writhing as she feels the sensation building inside of her. He reaches down, unbuckling her jeans and sliding them down her legs, revealing her black lace underwear.

"You're so fucking hot," he growls, his voice thick with desire. He pushes her jeans and underwear down her legs, revealing her completely. "I've wanted to do this for so long."

He leans in, kissing her again, his tongue dancing with hers as he pushes his body against hers. She can feel him hard through his pants, grinding against her. Her breath hitches as she feels herself growing wetter, more desperate for him.

Matt breaks the kiss, his eyes searching hers. "Tell me you want this," he whispers. "Tell me you want me."

She nods, her fingers digging into his shoulders. "I want you," she whispers. "I want you so much."

He groans, pushing her back onto the floor, his weight pressing down on top of her. His hand finds its way between their bodies, sliding over her wet folds. She gasps, arching her back off the floor, her hips meeting his touch.

He thrusts his fingers inside her, finding her entrance easily. "God, you're so wet," he whispers, his voice hoarse. "So fucking hot."

She moans, her head spinning with pleasure. She can feel him moving inside her, his fingers finding a rhythm that sends shockwaves of pleasure through her body. "Matt," she whimpers, her fingernails digging into the carpet. "I'm going to… I'm going to…"

"Come for me," he whispers, his lips against her ear. "Come on my fingers, baby."

And then she's coming, her body shuddering with the force of the orgasm. He thrusts his fingers inside her again and again, milking her as she cries out his name. When she finally goes limp beneath him, he groans, sliding his fingers out of her and rolling to the side, panting heavily.

Matt flips her around so her stomach is on the floor. "you're gonna be a good little girl, aren't you?" he asks, his voice rough. "You're gonna do whatever I tell you to do?" She nods, still breathless, her heart racing. Matt spanks her, "i'm gonna need words, baby." he says. "Y-yes" "Good girl," he says, and then he removes his belt and ties her hands behind her back.

"You're gonna take my cock like the good little slut you are, right baby?"

"Y-yes," she moans, arching her back, needing him inside of her.

He pushes her legs apart, revealing her wetness, "so wet for me, baby" he says, and then he pushes inside her, groaning as he feels her tightness. He begins to thrust, hard and fast, their bodies slapping together in a rhythm that's almost painful. "Fuck, you're so good," he growls, his teeth gritted.

"can you stay quiet for me, baby?" he whispers, his lips against her ear. She nods, her eyes closed."i need words baby" he says,

"Y-yes, Matt" she moans.

"That's it, that's what I need. Fuck, you're driving me crazy." He picks up the pace, his hips slamming into hers as he thrusts deeper and deeper. "You feel so good," he grunts, "so fucking good."

Her head falls back, her body trembling as she feels herself building towards another orgasm. she lets out a whine, "Matt, I'm…"

"Don't you dare," he warns, his voice low and threatening. "i told you not to make a sound." he says, slowing down his thrusts and edging her.

she lets out a cry at the loss of pleasure. "I'm sorry," she whimpers.

"are you gonna be a good girl and stay quiet for me?" he asks, his voice strained.

"Y-yes," she whispers, tears rolling down her cheeks.

He picks up the speed, fucking her harder and faster, his hips slapping against hers. "That's it, taking my cock like a good girl" he growls. She can feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge, the tension building inside her.

"Please?" she says, her voice cracking, "Please what princess?" he teases, "P-please let me cum" she whines. "Go ahead, baby."

And then she does, her body shuddering with the force of her orgasm. She cries out, wave after wave of pleasure wash over her. Matt groans, thrusting hard.

"M-matt! " She whines, overstimulating. "Take it." He growls. "i-i cant !" she cries. "Hold on for me, baby."

Matt continues to thrust into her.

"I'm gonna cum, baby." he says. "M-me too" she whispers, already feeling another orgasm building inside her.

"Good girl." He says, and with a final thrust, he cums, filling her up. He collapses on top of her, his weight pressing her into the carpet. His breath comes out in ragged gasps as they both catch their breath.

"That was…so good," he whispers, kissing her neck. "You're perfect, baby." She nuzzles into his chest, her body still tingling from the pleasure.

Taglist - @gvf23 @3kslav

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lev1hei1chou · 2 days

Text

Make Or Break

Gojo x reader Genre: Angst to Comfort Words: 925 Synopsis: You get into an argument with Gojo Masterlist

You and Satoru Gojo had always shared an unique dynamic. Banters were numerous, but actual arguments were a rare occurence. However, today's argument had escalated beyond your usual disagreements. The tension in the air was thick and overwhelming, creating an almost suffocating atmosphere in the room.

It started with a simple misunderstanding, a miscommunication that had eventually snowballed into a heated exchange of words. Gojo's piercing gaze bore into you as he argued his point vehemently, his words cutting through the air like a knife. Your own frustration bubbled to the surface, and soon, you were both caught in a whirlwind of accusations and harsh truths.

"Is it so hard for you to understand, Gojo? You never listen!" you snapped, your voice rising to match his intensity. "You act like you know everything, but you never take the time to truly understand how I feel!"

Gojo's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched in frustration. "Maybe if you were clearer about your feelings, I wouldn't have to play guessing games all the damn time!"

The room seemed to shrink as the argument intensified, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between you. Hurtful phrases were exchanged like rapid-fire, each one leaving a deeper wound than the last.

"You're impossible to be with, Gojo. I can't keep up with your constant need to be right!"

"Oh, please. Maybe you just can't handle someone who challenges you for once."

The words hung in the air, a painful reminder of the growing rift between you. The initial spark that had drawn you together now felt like a distant memory. The raw emotion in Gojo's eyes mirrored your own internal turmoil.

In the midst of the chaos, neither of you noticed the tears that welled up in your eyes. The realization of the damage done sank in, but the anger still lingered, preventing either of you from taking a step back.

"I need space," you declared, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and sadness.

Gojo's expression hardened, but he nodded in reluctant agreement. "Fine. Take all the space you need."

With that, you stormed out of the room, leaving Gojo alone in the echoing silence. The weight of the argument settled on both of your shoulders, the once vibrant connection now strained and fragile.

The aftermath of the heated exchange left a bitter taste in your mouth, and only time would tell whether your relationship could cross these hurdles or if it would crumble under the weight of unspoken words.

*******************************

Days passed since the explosive argument with Satoru Gojo. The silence between you two hung heavy and the tension was a constant presence in the air.

It became a silent game of avoidance, with both of you trying to find solace in the absence of each other. However, as time went on, the longing for resolution grew, and the desire to fix what was broken became too strong to ignore.

One evening, the realization hit you like a ton of bricks - you couldn't let the argument be the end of everything you'd built with Satoru. With a heavy sigh, you decided to take the first step towards reconciliation. As you approached your shared room, your heart raced with a mix of nervousness and determination.

You knocked on the door, and after a moment of tense silence, Gojo opened it. His eyes met yours, revealing a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. Without saying a word, you stepped inside, and he closed the door behind you.

The room felt charged with unspoken emotions as you both stood there, unable to look directly at each other. Finally, you broke the silence, your voice quiet but resolute. "We can't keep avoiding this, Satoru."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know, okay? But what do you want from me?"

"I want us to talk. Really talk. Without the yelling and the accusations," you replied, your gaze meeting his. "I miss us, Satoru. I miss the connection we used to have."

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, me too."

You took a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. "I know we both said things we didn't mean. I just… I want to understand you better, and I want you to understand me. Can we try to find a middle ground?"

Gojo sighed again, the weight of the situation evident in his eyes. "I don't want to lose you, you know? But sometimes I feel like you're pushing me away."

The vulnerability in his voice struck a chord within you. "I'm not trying to push you away. I just need you to listen, really listen, and not just assume you know what's best for me."

There was a moment of silence, and then Gojo nodded. "I can do that. I want to do that."

The air in the room shifted as you both acknowledged the need for change. It was a small step, but a significant one. You spent the next hours talking, opening up about your fears, frustrations, and desires. Slowly, the walls that had built up during the argument began to crumble.

As the night wore on, the conversation shifted from the heavy weight of the argument to the lighter, more tender aspects of your relationship. Laughter replaced the tension, and the genuine connection you'd feared lost began to resurface.

By the time you both decided to call it a night, there was a newfound understanding between you. A mere argument can't demolish the bond that was built from years of knowing each other.

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fuctacles · 3 days

Text

A tale as old as time

For @subeddieweek Day 7 | M | 2696 | cw: age gap (about 25-30y difference, Eddie's age is not stated, Steve's aligns with canon) | camboy Eddie, transmasc Eddie, kinda sugar daddy Steve?, modern AU, simp Steve, virgin Eddie, chatfic, pre-anything, gray ace Eddie | Ao3

"Hawkins High '86? How old is this guy?" Eddie asks himself, his eyebrows raised. There is a letterman in front of him, a gift from one of his top subscribers. Hell, his top subscriber. His number-one fan, who was responsible for about half of his revenue.

He's opened a PO box recently, with no little amount of worry about what kind of stuff he might get. He only gave the address to his top subscribers but he knew that the ones with the most money were usually the most unhinged. He went to the post office with his heart in his throat but all he got was a set of lingerie, a toy, and the letterman he was now holding.

He tried not to think about what kind of people would pay for his content. As long as he was making money he didn't care. But now he got a piece of one of them in his hands. Staring back.

1986.

Meaning the guy must be nearing 60. Double Eddie's age.

He tries to imagine that. An older guy, with wrinkles, maybe a beer belly, a gross old t-shirt, and his hand permanently in his sweats, beating it to his photos.

It was gross. And in a way, alluring.

Though someone with so much money to spend on a camboy must have a well-paying job. Some rich asshole, exploiting others to do the work for him. That's a more likely scenario. He tries not to think about big, rough hands on him when he puts on the jacket and takes pics for Shar.

He edits them a bit before sending them, knowing the guy will get a kick from seeing him in his jacket. The appeal of wearing your boyfriend's letterman eluded him in high school, but being claimed like that gave him a heady feeling. The fact that the guy could be his father apparently worked for him too.

He doesn't put his phone away fast enough and sees the message that pops up.

Shar: So hot. You look like every repressed teen jock's dream

Shar: Definitely like mine

Eddie thinks a moment about his response, channeling the persona he takes on for the camera.

PuppetOfMasters: Would I be your dirty secret?

PuppetOfMasters: Would you fuck me in the locker room behind your girlfriend's back?

Shar: I'd make YOU my girlfriend

Shar: Wait no

Shar: NOT LIKE THAT

Shar: A girlfriend but in a manly way

Eddie snorts.

You're good, he types. I know what you mean, don't worry.

He wouldn't keep around someone who didn't respect him. Besides, he made it clear he's saving for a transition with his Only Fans.

Thank god, Shar types. I respect who you are

Shar: In fact, I spend so much money on you because of it.

Eddie rolls onto his other side, his mood souring. One of those trans fetishists, then. That's fine, as long as he's being respectful and paying... Even if it leaves an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

Ah, a connoisseur! Well, I hope I'm your favorite tranny, then, he jokes. He waits for an answer, but it doesn't come for a long while, so he flips his phone screen down and turns away, hoping for sleep.

A response is waiting for him when he wakes up.

Shar: I guess it sounded that way, but I'm not that kind of pervert. You're the only trans sex worker I follow, but not the only trans person I've sent money to.

Eddie sauntered to the bathroom, not taking his eyes off his phone. He wonders if continuing the conversation is even the right move. He's talked to one too many guys who thought sending him a dick pick was okay after ten minutes of small talk between a content creator and a fan.

But he's kind of curious. When he has money to spare, he sends some change to other trans folks to help out, because he knows how hard it is from his own experience. But why Shar, a seemingly loaded old guy, would spend his money on queers instead of, let's say, starving children?

PuppetOfMasters: So you're just an ally with cash? Or is there more to it? I'm curious.

He goes through his morning routine, washing his face, and brushing his teeth, not expecting Shar to get back to him any time soon. So he's surprised when he picks his phone back up and a response is waiting.

Shar: Long story short, I hope my father is rolling in his grave while I spend his inheritance on people he hated so much.

That's not what Eddie expected at all.

PuppetOfMasters: So I'm a means of rebellion against your bigoted dead father? I'll take that. I hate rich assholes

Shar: Me too

They don't talk for the whole day after that, but when Eddie's done running errands and editing in the evening, he looks back at the letterman hanging on the door of his wardrobe.

How is sending me your letterman an act of rebellion? he asks. Because he's a curious little shit.

The response comes fast like the guy is glued to his Only Fans chat. Gross. Eddie wonders briefly if he's talking with other sex workers there.

Shar: A souvenir of his precious high school fetishized on a queer ssex worker? He'd die if he hadn't already

So it is a fetish thing! Eddie smiles triumphantly at his phone.

Shar: Okay, fine

Shar: Sticking it to my father is just a bonus for you being really hot.

Shar: And I do love seeing you in my letterman, I've jerked off to it three times already

Shar: is that what you wanted to hear?

Eddie grins, rolling on his bed.

PuppetOfMasters: Yes

Shar: So yeah, I'm an old man who peaked in high school, laugh it up

PuppetOfMasters: I'd rather you peaked in me

Shar: Insufferable

Shar: Menace

Shar: Yeah, I'd love that. A man can dream, right?

Eddie bites his lip. How far is too far? The guy seems genuine and after the amount of creeps that's been chatting him up, he thinks his creep radar is quite good. Tentatively, he starts typing.

PuppetOfMasters: I don't know. I think people would like seeing me get railed by an older guy

Shar: An old guy, you mean

Shar: You'd make a video with me?

PuppetOfMasters: I record most of the sex I have, yes

Shar: Huh. I've never seen one before, then

PuppetOfMasters: warm, warmer

Shar: ... There aren't any?

PuppetOfMasters: din ding ding! ya boy is a virgin

Shar: shit

Shar: fuck

Shar: that's so hot

Shar: you'd let me?

PuppetOfMasters: Would I let my best-paying subscriber be my first time on camera? Probably

Not necessarily to be released but he couldn't lose the possibility of such golden content in case it was watchable.

Shar: I'd better keep my spot then. Just in case.

PuppetOfMasters: No worries, you seem the most trustworthy so far anyway.

But as he types it, a new notification appears. Shar sent him a hefty tip on one of his photos.

PuppetOfMasters: That's really not necessary

PuppetOfMasters: But I hope your father is kicking and screaming in his coffin

Shar: I fucking hope so

----

It takes Eddie another day to google Hawkins High's yearbook photos. He'd thought about it before but didn't want to break the bubble of anonymity between himself and his fan. But the thoughts of big hands on his hips, and beard rubbing against his neck, took root in his brain and were tainting his mind.

Not fully in tune with his body and distrustful of others, Eddie has been single for most of his life. And now his stupid horny brain was drooling at the thought of losing his virginity to a grandpa on the internet.

Hoping it would help his thoughts calm down, he looks through the photos from the year 1986, in search of a Harrington. And he finds him.

Steve Harrington. Basketball captain and swim team co-captain. His hairdo was magnificent and his smile was self-confident. Eddie would hate him in high school. Should probably hate him now. So he expands his search further, beyond the Hawkins High memory lane.

He finds one single photo on a LinkedIn profile.

The current Steve Harrington's hair is no less magnificent, just peppered with silver. He wears glasses now, which accentuate the line of his jaw and make his neatly trimmed facial hair pop out. He's wearing a yellow jacket and a white golf, which should be hideous but weirdly, works for him. Eddie doesn't get to see his eyes, unfortunately. The photo looks like a candid photo shoot take-out after someone told him a joke. His head is tilted down, eyes scrunched and lips pulled in a smile, as a bubbling laugh got immortalized on camera.

Eddie shouldn't be finding a sixty-year-old man this endearing.

PuppetOfMasters: I like your LinkedIn photo

PuppetOfMasters: Well, I hope it's you.

PuppetOfMasters: Steve, right?

He can't forget about this for the whole day, not as he budgets his income, and especially not when he records a short video jerking off in the shower. He tries not to look at his phone but it's his only one, so he does while trying to budget in a second one, just for sex work. Maybe then he wouldn't be feeling so insane about not getting a response from a stranger who is an old pervert spending loads of money on him.

He tries to be normal when a chat notification finally pops up.

Shar: If you saw the golf and yellow jacket photo, that's me

Shar: though please don't make me type my full name in here.

no worries, Eddie types back so fast he should be embarrassed. It's a good photo.

Shar: Thanks. My best friend took it

PuppetOfMasters: Your friend has a good eye

Shar: I'll let her know

Shar: I'm surprised it took you this long to search me up

Eddie's surprised too. Usually, his curiosity would take over him sooner.

PuppetOfMasters: I tried not to pry. But I had to in case we were gonna meet up one day

Shar: So you were serious?

Shar: I've been wondering if you sweet-talk all your followers like that

PuppetOfMasters: Only the ones that don't send me dick pics

Shar: I knew holding back would pay off

Eddie snorts at his phone.

Though I might need one before we meet up, he types. Gotta know what I'm working with

Shar: Right. Of course

Shar: So how would that work?

Eddie hasn't thought about it this far.

PuppetOfMasters: I need to read about OF's policy on collabs. Never had to before, since I work solo. Would probably have to hire you, well, sign a commission/gig contract or something like that. So it's all legal and shit.

Shar, Steve, doesn't answer for a long while, and it might be the end of his devirginizing journey. Well, if the guy doesn't want to make this legal, put his name on some paperwork, then he isn't trustworthy, and that's the end of it.

It's half an hour later and Eddie's bitten all his nails off trying not to follow up with any messages and focus on anything else when an answer finally comes.

Shar: Sorry my friend was bothering me

Shar: this sounds more complicated than I anticipated. So I would be like, a co-creator, then?

PuppetOfMasters: Precisely

Shar: Holy shit okay

Shar: Thought I'd be you know, less involved

Though you could hit it and quit it, huh? Eddie scrunched his nose. What was he getting himself into? Gods.

Shar: If that's what you wanted I'd take it

Eddie shouldn't be blushing over this one. It's like he's throwing the man scraps and he's licking them up.

PuppetOfMasters: Simp

Shar: I am what I am

Shar: With that said, I'm willing to make it work. Do all the paperwork you need

PuppetOfMasters: Doing paperwork just to fuck me? so romantic

Shar: I suck at paperwork so my friend would be doing it anyway

Shar: If that's okay

PuppetOfMasters: I think it's best if someone looks it over, yeah

Eddie hesitates for a moment.

PuppetOfMasters: That friend doesn't happen to be your wife?

Fuck no, comes the immediate response

Shar: I'm perpetually single and she's as gay as they come.

PuppetOfMasters: Good. Wouldn't want to be the other girl

Shar: If I had the chance you'd be the only one

PuppetOfMasters: Jesus.

Eddie squeezes his legs together unconsciously.

PuppetOfMasters: Stop sweet talking me, I've already agreed to fuck

Shar: But we haven't signed anything yet. Even then, I'll keep sweet-talking you. It's what you deserve.

For the first time, Eddie thinks he might not survive their meeting. And not because of the possible killer scenario. Thankfully, Steve gets back to business talk.

Shar: How would this work, legal stuff aside? Do you script this?

PuppetOfMasters: Do I look like I script shit?

Shar: I'm not the one with Only Fans

PuppetOfMasters: Fair. I think we could just set up cameras and do whatever we feel like. Then decide together if the footage will be released or not.

Shar: Sounds reasonable

Shar:When would you want to do this?

When?

Eddie hasn't thought that far. In fact, he felt like he hadn't been thinking for the past couple of days.

I'm the sole god of my schedule so I'm open to anything, he types evasively.

Shar: I have some time off next month, could fly to wherever you need me

Next month seemed close. Extremely close. Or maybe it wasn't? He never worked with anyone before. Hell, he didn't even have that many friends to meet up with.

Next month works I guess, he answers despite his nerves.

Shar: Wanna face time before we start the legal work?

His nerves escalate, making his mouth dry. He reminds himself he's done this before, he's on camera all the time.

PuppetOfMasters: Like, right now?

Shar: Yeah?

PuppetOfMasters: Ok, give me five minutes.

Eddie shoots up, checks himself in the mirror, and finds a good angle for his phone to set up. He lowkey hopes Steve picks up with his dick in the frame so Eddie can block him with a clear conscience and forget about the whole thing. When six minutes from his last message pass, he hits 'call'.

"Hi," Eddie squeaks when the video connects. Steve Harrington's arms are in the frame, crossed on the desk, and toned where he's leaning on them.

"Hi," he greets him with a dazzling smile.

It is the guy from the photo, so at least he's not being catfished. And he has none of the creepy simp energy Eddie feared. He's just... a guy. It's both a relief and a disappointment.

"Well?" the guy asks.

"Well, what?" Eddie frowns.

"Are you disappointed? Am I too old?"

Eddie looks at him properly. His hair is lighter on the sides, but not grey yet, and the video quality doesn't make any wrinkles stand out to him. Maybe some worry lines, crow's feet if he squints. He looks like he keeps in shape, too. Eddie wouldn't call him old. Mature, maybe. A DILF slowly transforming into a Silver Fox.

"You look fine. Good. You look good. Attractive," Eddie fumbles with his words and barely stops himself from facepalming. This is why he mostly texts.

Steve smirks at him. And holy shit, a dude twice his age smirking at him shouldn't be doing things to his body.

"You sure? You're not gonna block me after we hang up, are you?"

Eddie shakes his head.

"I stand by our plans. You're passing my creep radar so far, but uh..." He scratches his cheek nervously. "I'd like to keep in touch in case, you know. A red flag pops up. I hope you get it."

Steve nods, his expression growing serious.

"Absolutely. We're strangers, after all."

"Yeah." Eddie nods, relieved. It would give him ample time and opportunities to back out.

On the screen, Steve leans more on his arms, closer to the camera.

"So I think dick assessment is next on the checklist?"

Eddie might not even survive video calls with this guy, after all.

#subeddieweek #sub eddie week #sub eddie munson #cj x subeddieweek #mine #steddie #cw: age gap #camboy au #modern au #transmasc eddie munson #this story got away from me as soon as it started #i just wanted to write some online domming but no #some mmmm older guy touching me???? kinda hot #b u t NO

178 notes · View notes

leviathanleva · 10 hours

Text

Daisy

........................

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader

........................

Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

[Graphic description of gore] 🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼 Chapter 3

The flickering ceiling lamps only exacerbated the grim atmosphere, but they did slightly help with finding your way. They also hid the majority of the massacre, but you weren’t blind to the horrific scenes of vault dwellers strewn up and skinned and prepared for processing. You’d wretched and convulsed at the sight, clutching at the wall for support and fighting back tears of terror, and if it hadn’t been for your empty stomach you would have most likely thrown up all over the ghoul’s boots. There was so much food around and the raiders still chose their twisted ways and treated the corpses of their victims, human beings, as cattle in need of rationing and preparation. It was engraved in them, you guessed, after living so long in an apocalyptic, hellish world, eating people was as natural to them as breathing. You tried to justify their actions even if they made no sense, but after seeing cut-open bellies and spilled intestines and dribbling blood as the corpses were hung to drain, you couldn’t.

No matter how difficult a life, nothing could pardon such barbaric actions, not when the cans of cram and sacks of tatoes were right there. The raiders didn’t kill and butcher out of need, they did it out of pleasure, they drew with blood on the walls, bludgeoned flesh and bone to a pulp, stripped skin bare, and let bodies dangle like slaughtered pigs.

The more gore was presented to you on a rusty platter, the smaller your pool of empathy became until there was nothing but the screaming aftermath of gunshots sounding right above your head. You still jittered, but didn’t flinch anymore, he had you, you were safe with him. His boots echoed with menace through the corridors, beckoning the raiders to their end, while your delicate bare feet glided over grime and glass and chaos.

He used you as bait once the raiders were close enough to spot you, your history with them causing a sudden urge in them to let go of their logic and self-preservation and charge headfirst into a shotgun barrel. You would have minded, but he was death incarnate with a weapon, and you were so set on restoring the sanctity of your vault, your home, that you were ready to do just about anything. He killed until there was nobody else with a heartbeat except you and him. He killed so casually, that you almost believed it to be normal.

Once his end of the bargain was done, you started searching, straining both mind and vision for that particular room with a false bookcase. You guided him past the vegetable field, through the cafeteria, and rushed past the school because there were too many bodies piled up for you to stomach. He followed with minor protests, but mostly kept quiet and alert, acting as a guard hound while you pursued the location of the emergency storage. It was only when you ended up in the residential wing with a confused noise that he spoke up.

“You’re lost, darlin’, admit it.”

You shot him an angsty look over your shoulder, arm outstretched in front of you as the white flashlight installed in the Pip-boy illuminated the vault hallway. When you enter the first home, just the structure of it is enough to tell that you’ve got the wrong place, you scowl, but trudge further inside anyway.

“I’m not lost.” you retort, refusing to let his remarks leave a stain on your photographic memory, and pace around the tiny complex. “It should be in this wing, I just need to find the right room.”

“Whatever you say…” he hums in mock and purses his lips, then opens the metal door wider before stepping in after you. He lets you explore, his eyes skimming with disinterest over the homey aesthetic he was so alienated from that it didn’t even ring a bell of nostalgia. His sights lock on the fridge and his feet react faster than he’d thought possible. Bingo.

The self-powered beacons perched over the whey field creep through the windows and it’s enough light to scarcely brighten the complex. It would have been a haunting sight if the ghoul wasn’t with you and a timid part of your consciousness tapped at you, reminding you that he wasn’t going to be present for much longer. You hadn’t planned on dwelling on such a thought for long, but you had no clue what to do once he was gone. Left alone to fend for your life with no skills or experience aside from dry theory accumulated from years of reading, there wasn’t much you could do except live off the remnants of the vault and try to keep the garden alive.

How would you be rid of all the corpses though?

It would take years to restore everything, or at least the parts that were salvageable, you’d never be able to swap the broken windows or replace the shattered light bulbs.

You scurried off the nasty reality of your future and proceeded to kneel in front of a shoe cabinet. Your feet were irritably sore and in desperate need of protection so you sunk your arms to the elbows in the darkness, the flashlight distorting under the pile of slippers and sandals.

“You’re not mad, mister?” you ask and turn back to find the ghoul waist-deep in the refrigerator, rummaging as a cacophony of clinking bottles and stuttering plates soundtrack his rampage. He looked almost domestic and you had to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from smiling. “Cuz I haven’t found the storage yet?”

He resurfaces at your question, a bowl of mashed tatoes and a platter of grilled cram cradled in his embrace, traces of soy milk stained his lips. He wiped his mouth on his shoulder and tossed the food on the kitchen counter before resting on his elbows while flicking his tongue.

“Plenty of Pip-boys layin’ around.” he shrugs simply and rips his glove off before sticking two thick fingers in the tatoes. “Can make a small fortune outta those.” he offers you a toothy grin before licking his fingers clean.

“Please use a fork, sir.” you grimace at his tasteless display before turning back to your task at hand.

“Mind your business, smooth-skin.” he grunts and sinks his teeth in a thick slice of cram, scarfing it down as if he’d not eaten in days. He scoffs at your faint giggle and waves you off, too high on the idea of a proper meal to care for your coquettish snip.

You continue to dig through the assortment of old shoes, relishing his vocal satisfaction as he feasts. He chews hastily, taking breaks every few bites to wash down the food with whatever juice or milk he blindly pawed at on the fridge door. After tossing away a pair of white fluffy slippers and jamming your hand against a leathery surface, you pull out a left-footed cargo boot. It’s stuck, tied by the laces to something crammed deeper in the cabinet and you feel your way until you find its twin. Once freed, you look them over with a tilted chin and a contemplative look.

They seemed remotely your size, with a pair of thick socks they’d probably fit perfectly and they were preserved and sturdy enough to withstand some broken glass.

“You think they’ll miss these?” you raise the boots in display and ask before thinking about how stupid your question was.

The boiled corn cob pauses just shy of his parted lips and he stares at you like you’d grown a second head. The silence that befalls is one of realization with a twinge of melancholy and you avert your eyes as your mouth twitches into a small frown. The shoes are lowered to your chest and you hold them close in wordless mourning, face dimming, shoulders lowering.

“Oh right…frick.”

“They’re dead, sweetheart.” he speaks softly, a hint of pity hidden beneath the layer of rasp. “Don’t think they’ll miss anythin’ anymore.”

In truth, you didn’t mourn the rest of the vault dwellers. They were strangers who’d shared the same living facility as you, there was no attachment there except for baseline human empathy. What you grieved over was your sanity, the solitude you’d be subjugated to and you’d grown accustomed to being alone, but after knowing the atrocities that had occurred and the reasoning for your lonesome existence, you doubted things would go well. You’d be forced to fend for yourself and there was no guarantee that another wave of intruders wouldn’t end up on your doorstep.

You picked at the soles of the boots absentmindedly, ignorant to the sympathetic stare targeting the back of your head.

You weren’t accustomed to caring for your needs, having been coercively babied all your life and lacking basic skills. The only bond you’d ever had was with your father and the knowledge that you’d eventually stumble upon his corpse riddled you in goosebumps. You dreaded that sight, eyes dampening at just the thought and mind failing to even picture such a sickening image.

You drag an arm over your drippy nose, sniffle and stand.

“Need socks.” was all you managed before hurrying to the bedside closet at the other end of the complex, hiding behind a wall and out of the ghoul’s prying gaze.

This was fine. You’d figure it out as you went. There was no point in worrying over things that haven’t happened yet, right?

You shone your flashlight into the closet's depths after flinging it open, searching for a ball of stretchy material, anything that remotely resembled a pair of socks. Shuffling came from the kitchen area, a throaty grunt, a few clanks, and the shattering of porcelain. Paying no mind to the ghoul’s ruckus, you sift through the clothing hangers, stopping only when an intricate floral pattern catches your eye. You tug at the cloth, pulling it off the bar and hooking a finger around the clothing hanger before straightening it out.

A dress, pretty and frilly at the bottom, littered with small hand-sewn red blooms, sparkling white and in pristine condition. It reminisced of better times when people reigned over a peaceful and bountiful land, when radiation existed only in the confines of nuclear factories and cannibalism was scarce and very taboo. Your dull expression softens with a doting smile as you coo over your new fit before tossing it on the bed.

Your search continues shortly after, rummaging and scanning, digging deeper until you find a small raft overflowing with undergarments. A pair of black tights and heavy woolen socks later, you pass an anxious glance at the edge of the wall separating you from your overly grumpy bodyguard before tugging the straps of your dress off your shoulders.

“What the hell are you doing in there!?”

“I’m changing!” you rush to answer, shimmying out of your dirty, torn attire before sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling the socks over your feet. After taking note of the now gooey gash on your ankle, you decide to postpone wearing tights until it’s been cleaned and bandaged. You swallow back a lump of anxiety and make disinfecting the wound your top priority…once you find the storage unit that is.

“Hurry up!”

Once the boots were secured, you neatly tied them up and scurried to slip on the new dress in case the ghoul decided he’d had enough of waiting and barged over in his typical unruly fashion. It fit you so well, but there was no time to enjoy yourself, you tossed the tights over the junction of your elbow and patted down the frilly edges grazing your knees.

The world came crashing when the zipper got stuck.

“Freaking fiddle sticks…”

You tried and failed to resolve the dilemma, patting blindly at your upper back, reaching over your shoulder, and coiling an arm behind your waist. Even when your fingers did manage to find the zipper again, it was jammed and no amount of vigorous tugging helped and you didn’t want to apply more force lest you cause a tear. A small whine, dainty and annoyed, bubbled in your throat and you hung your head back and stared up at the ceiling in despair. This had to be some sort of cruel joke, a jut at you for daring to find a sliver of happiness.

“Uh…mister?” you call out, weak with embarrassment as you slowly succumb to the walk of shame. You round the corner slowly, apprehension in every step and boring a shameful visage. “I need help…please.”

Your lovely bounty hunter had sprawled out on the counter, his hands resting on his now full belly, one perched up knee swaying nonchalantly as his other leg kicked dangled leisurely in the air. His hat rested over his face, obscuring his vision as he breathed slowly, in utter bliss for the first time in a long while. The shotgun once secured on his back was tucked under his neck. The empty plates were carelessly chucked to the floor when he’d made room to lie down and now you knew what all that ruckus had been caused by.

It would have been quite the heartwarming sight if you weren’t currently wallowing in self-pity.

He rouses at your beckon, sitting up and readjusting his hat and giving you his best acid scowl for disrupting his peace. Then he notices your pained expression and skittish shifting and quirks a nonexistent brow.

“The hell’d you do?”

Ah yes, the sardonic question a parent would ask their misbehaved child after yet another minor disaster. That’s exactly what you need at the moment.

“I – ” your teeth grit, jaw tightening in discomfort. A sad puppy-eyed stare plastered on your droopy features as you stand next to the counter before reluctantly turning around and brushing your hair out of the way to expose your back. “ – It’s stuck…”

A snort of laughter fills the dim complex and you shrink in utter humiliation, fussing at his reaction like the wimpy thing you’ve been demoted to. He turns in his spot and his knees encase your frame as he slopes closer.

“Can’t even dress right.” his berating smirk nips at the back of your neck and earns a sigh of defeat.

Cooper Howard wasn’t a man to regret many things and he’d done enough awful deeds to have him kicked out of a church if he ever dared set foot in one. Not putting his glove back on, however, would be one of those regrets. When his disfigured fingers dipped beneath the hem of your dress to hold it steady as he worked the zipper free, he brushed against your skin and it was so soft that he nearly missed the feeling altogether. A pang of something awfully warm wrapped around his ribcage like a vine and he was so shaken to the core that he forgot he needed to breathe.

You felt like the past, all lovely and nice and tender, as if ripped from a time he struggled to recollect and let go of both, and you were thrust in his hands and he didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do with you. All charming smiles and sugary words and naivety that had him torn between hatred and incessant thirst for more of whatever it was you did to him. So addictive yet so detrimental.

He chalked it up to lust, a guttural craving any normal man would feel when presented with a cute little thing like you. But it wasn’t that at all. It had nothing to do with any carnal human craving.

You were a gateway to what he used to have, a walking memory of who he used to be.

It made sense if your story was true. Being tended to all your life while locked in a lab orchestrated to be your private room, it would leave anyone silk-skinned, bright-minded, and burden-free. But that didn’t ease him, it didn’t falter him from feeling like he was drowning.

You were the even tune of midnight jazz, a slice of hot apple pie, and a fresh cup of Joe on a Sunday afternoon; a little piece of heaven he’d never asked for and a cruel incarnation of damnation he’d always feared would catch up to him.

“Is it fixed?” you peep, saving him from the jaws of his mind, and look back, happily unaware of his self-destructive internal dialogue. The darkness hides the strain hovering over his distant gaze. “Did you manage?”

“ ‘Course I did.” he barks and is back to normal in an instant, pulling the zipper up before letting you go. “Done.”

He makes sure to secure his glove back on and cusses out the invasive thoughts.

“Thank you so much!” you grin with glee and throttle away like a victorious toddler. “How do I look?” you twirl with pizazz, then remember the tights dangling off your arm and bunch them up in one hand in case they took away from your dashing performance. “Don’t mind those.”

The ghoul scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief at how stupidly charming you are, and slides from the counter before reaching for his shotgun. You take his reaction as a good sign, satisfied with your new, clean look, and brush down the dress with the back of your hand.

“Les go.” he clicks his tongue at you, motioning with his head before fiddling to load his weapon. “Can gawk at yourself plenty when I’m gone.”

His remark receives no pushback. You follow suit, back into the benevolent corridor with hanging dead lamps, stepping carefully next to him with Pip-boy pointed straight ahead. It felt good to not have to constantly worry over a stray piece of debris catching on your feet anymore. Now your footsteps sang in tandem with your bounty hunter’s albeit much lighter and more frequent. With eyes darting from wall to wall, you peeked into each adjacent living complex. The sting in your ankle continued, snapping at your every move and your grip on the tights hardened. Your nails sank into the material for purchase as impatience nibbled at your nerves.

Apartment after apartment. Nothing even remotely resembled the room you were looking for, but it had to be here somewhere. The vault plans didn’t lie and neither did your memory.

You nearly tripped over a stray cable while ogling a bright pink suite layered with fuzzy rugs.

“You sure you ain’t just sendin’ us on a wild goose chase?” the ghoul asks while cracking open another steel door for you to inspect, then dips his hat and lilts “Ain’t gonna shoot you, sweetheart. Don’t need to lie anymore.”

“I wasn’t lying, mister.” you look up at him with hurt and he keens, blinking slowly at you and deciding to leave it at that.

Whether it was due to exhaustion or that look, he wasn’t sure.

If you were this set on proving to him there was a storage full of medical supplies and provisions he wasn’t going to stop you. There was plenty of food and drink to stay a while and his current bounty wasn’t notorious enough to top a fresh bed and a full meal. The caps weren’t worth it compared to what you’d offered him and he had enough vials to last him a while before any feral symptoms started poking through.

“It’s somewhere here, I know it is, these are just the wrong rooms. But the map showed it was in the living quarters to the north. It has to be a bigger space and with a bookcase in – ”

A hand clasped gently over your mouth, cutting your ramble short.

The ghoul grips your arm and shines the Pip-boy at the end of the hallway, the tense look on his face making your stomach knot. He takes one step forward, leaving you to linger behind him and you would’ve liked to believe it was to protect you, but it was most likely to get you out of the way.

You hear his gloved hold tighten around his shotgun and bite back the need to ask him what he’d picked up that you hadn’t. You never noticed the almost silent steps that had slowly crept closer and yelped when you were roughly tossed behind him as he spun around. The shot nearly left you deaf and the bloodied kukri barely missed your shoulder, having been a hair away from the strap of your dress.

You shriek along with the gargled gasp, latching onto the bounty hunter’s coat. The loud thump that followed made you duck and wrinkle your nose.

“Oh my jeez. Oh my God!” you glimpse from behind him reluctantly, forcing your tightly shut eyes open.

The raider twitched, clutching his blown-to-bits shoulder as a puddle of blood formed beneath him. He choked for air, coughing out a storm of crimson and it made your knees weak. The smell of gunpowder was sharp and overwhelming and your head spun with a nauseating speed.

“Guess I missed one.” the bounty hunter leers and the absolute insouciance at his actions sent a chill up your spine. He unclasps the hunting knife strapped to his belt and twirls it between his fingers, then tosses you a warning glance. “Look away, sweetheart. Ain’t wastin’ another bullet on this shit.”

The heels of his boots clinked closer to the raider convulsing on the floor and with a shaky sniffle, you forced your legs to move. The pleas of a desperate man rendered defenseless and feeble, the churring taunts of his merciless killer who squatted over his prey with blade readied. A sickening noise punched you right in the gut, so raw and revolting that you covered your ears the moment you stumbled into another suite and slid down behind the front door. Clutching at the sides of your head, fingers curled and nails delved into your scalp to ground you, you died a little inside.

The reality of your existence, the consequences for being alive hit you full force, ripping you out of the tranquility that had befallen both you and the ghoul. Peace never lasted, and neither did joy, not in a world bathed in chaos and destruction.

The two curt knocks on the door made you flinch.

“Come on out, scaredy cat.”

“I’ll – ” with a twisted tongue and a clenched throat, you murmur out words to keep him away because you didn’t want to see the blood he was wiping off his knife. “ – I’ll be right there. Just looking…for a false latch or something.”

What a horrible excuse…but he didn’t question it and you were so thankful.

His steps crinkle over broken glass and pieces of discarded metal plates. The tension lifts off your shoulders when he leaves with a grunt. You rub at your face with a timid breath, jaw easing as your lips part to accommodate your forceful inhales. The gloom of the apartment embraced you in your self-indulgent grovel.

To imagine someone lived here only a day ago was to concede to hysteria.

He saved your life again. And still, you were left shaken and bothered and speechless and burdened by what would have happened if he hadn’t been there to rip you away from death’s claws. The possibility of there being more raiders skulking about hadn’t been a thing until this one nearly chopped your arm off. Your arm was still there though, intact and function. All because of him. A dilapidated, volatile guardian angel that looked like a grilled chicken and sounded like a fizzled-out radio station and he meant more to you than anything ever had in your short, secluded life. What were you supposed to do without him when he finally left and you were sealed into a blood-soaked, corpse-ridden underground bunker with just your thoughts as company?

You slapped at your puffed-out cheeks ferociously.

This was fine.

It wasn’t fine, but there was nothing to be done, you’d work with what you had, you’d manage somehow. You had to.

The ghoul whistled you over, loud and clear enough for you to hear even while tucked away safely in your corner. Enough spiraling. You stood and with a determined huff, exited the complex only to see him standing in front of an open door with crossed arms and a tilted head. He noticed you from the corner of his eye and nudged his chin.

“This it?”

You poke your nose inside the spacious room.

It was the vault president’s office, completely untouched and eerily still, made to resemble the quarters of high-ranking officials from the olden days. Thin sheets of wood were plastered over the walls and the floor was carpeted and clean, the large windows overlooked the fields and dining area. An elegant leather chair was neatly set behind the paper-ridden desk in the center of the room, and yellowing files peak from every single drawer and bookcase. Everything seemed organized in spotless order, even the mugs on the coffee table were arranged corresponding to their color. There were so many paintings strewn about, past vault presidents, men and women in distinct white coats, same as the one your dad had always worn, supposedly scientists.

He leaned against the doorframe as you barged inside, watching your newfound zeal with a half-smile.

You pressed the tip of your middle finger to the wall and slowly extended your other arm at a precise angle, then moved it barely to the left. With a calculative spark imbued in your eyes, you take deliberate steps and move your stiff arms mechanically as you work out the location of the hidden storage. It looked ridiculous and you were well aware as you maneuvered about like a possessed puppet, but without any tools to point the way this was your only crutch.

“Three feet to the left, diagonal to the glass case with the cat sculpture. One step back and turn to what should be west. North should be to the right, then. And…”

“There.” you state once your hand points at a particularly overdecorated bookcase. “That’s it. Has to be.” you step towards it with determination, throwing away documents and an old plastic globe until there was enough space to grab at the shelves. It creaks when you give it a solid tug to test its stability. You bite your lip in contemplation before turning back to the ghoul. “Think you can move this, mister?”

“You better be right, sweetheart.” he tutted, but complied, pushing himself off the doorframe before joining you. He towers over you and rests his hands against the polished wood. “Move.”

You did as told and gave him some room.

He managed to slide his fingers against the back of the bookcase and spread out his legs before letting go of a throaty groan and pulling with all his strength. Your knee jittered with the need to step in and help, but you hesitated, succumbing to your manners and letting him do the heavy lifting. The last thing you wanted was to insult his capabilities or hurt his man-pride.

The case toppled with a thunderous crash and its contents spilled over the carpet, some trinkets bounced off your boot and rolled under the desk. The wooden planks that had been hidden behind it were slightly caved in compared to the rest. A thick carving resembling a door was engraved in them along with a small rectangular shape just a few inches to the side.

This was it.

“Hallelujah.” he chuckles and kneads his shoulder while flexing it, brows raised and eyes settled on the hidden entrance and glistening with wonder. “Guess you weren’t lyin’ after all.”

You clumsily step over the mountain of books and smashed wood, arms extended for balance until you’re close enough to press down on the rectangle. With a whirling hiss, the wood slides to the side and a hole perfectly shaped like a Pip-boy appears. You stuck your hand in without a second thought, beyond impatient and on the verge of crying because your ankle was burning so intensely you wanted to just rip it off.

The door gave way with a few audible clicks and the storage lit up instantly, you guessed the lamps didn’t depend on the vault’s fusion cores, another little trickery to keep this place hidden. The power management engineers would have most likely noticed the excess electricity being used for a room that wasn’t supposed to exist. A smart move and also for nothing, everyone was dead.

The cynic in you cackled.

You were quick to rip your hand free and enter, spotting the hefty array of medical supplies gathered over a metal cart, driven by pain and discomfort and lacking the self-control to keep it a secret any longer.

“Well, I’ll be…” the ghoul gapes at the overflowing storage, pleasantly surprised and nodding to himself. “Consider your debt repaid, missy.” he plunges his knife into a sack of tatoes and promptly empties it.

His arm swipes over a metal shelf of stimpaks, greedily bunching them up and into the sack as he licks his teeth at the upcoming profit.

When you don’t reply to his remark he finally takes his gaze off the mounds of supplies and medicine and looks to you.

You’re a mussing mess, abrupt jitters causing bottles of pills and packages of bandages to pile at your feet as you scour for something specific. Initially, he opts to leave you be and focus on his own task, but when a disheartened noise slips past you he caves.

“The hell’s got you scramblin’ about like a cornered rat?”

You wince and turn back with a trembling frown. Your search had come out fruitless, the plan was spoiled at the absence of any antibiotics and you internally cursed for not stopping by the med-bay earlier and checking there first. Then again, you needed a key card and you weren’t fond of checking the pockets of decapitated vault residents just for that. But your open wound didn’t care for your antics. Now your ankle was probably red, still oozing and by how it rubbed against your sock, it was even more irritated and sickeningly sticky.

His stern look was relentless and you sucked in a breath before speaking.

“I can’t find any antibiotics…for my ankle.” you swallow a sob like a child caught red-handed trying to sneak past a broken vase. “The cockroaches – One of them bit me or cut me I think and… And it was fine at first, but then it started getting infected and I thought I’d find something here to help, but I don’t think only spirit will help so I thought antibiotics, but I can’t find any and it hurts so bad now – ”

You halted when his jaw stiffed and did nothing when he stomped close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him. The sack was slumped by you and as he glared you simply averted your eyes to the floor.

“Sit.” he commands in a rigid tone, forcing you on your rump as the coldness of the tile floor seeps through your dress. “ ‘N take it off.” the tip of his boot nudges your foot before he tugs his pants up and squats in front of you with elbows resting on his thighs.

It’s only after you slip off your now-ruined sock that he cringes in annoyance and grabs your calf to turn it for a better view. Angry red outlined the open gash and the dead skin that still clung to it was soaked in colorless stickiness. He pressed on the side of the wound, shooting down your attempt at escaping with a scalding look, and more goo was excreted.

Radroaches were clean creatures, he’d seen them grooming themselves more than hunting for food. However, being mutated by radiation did tend to add some spice to their bites and you trudging around barefoot for a good full day had only added to the accelerated decay. Nasty little cut that was.

“Stupid git.” he hisses and stuffs a hand in the sack. “Nothen’ a lil stimpak can’t fix though. And lucky for you, we hit a goldmine.” the large syringe glints under the blaring white lights and he pushes at the base to snuff out any air bubbles before lowering it to your calf. “Now hold still.”

The sight of the needle makes you stiffen, a plethora of memories flashing past your widened eyes, and you’re overtaken by such a raw desire to get away that you nearly kick him off balance in your struggle.

Too many years stuffed full of constant medications and transfusions and scalpels and cuts and taking blood samples and fucking needles. All your life you’d suffered through nothing but medical treatments and the first day spent away from such hell had you realized just how traumatizing it had all been. Obligated to just take it because there was no alternative, you were never given a choice in the matter. You weren’t ready for this again, seeing that stupid needle so close to your skin made your heart drop in your stomach.

“Wait. Mister, wait. Wait!” you grab onto the metal bars of the cart as his grip on your calf tightens painfully.

“Quit fussin’!” he all but growls and pulls you back in place once you’d made some progress in slipping away. His tolerance for your display vaporizes when you land another inadvertent kick to his knee. He lets your calf go and reaches for the back of your head, grabbing onto a fistful of your hair and jostling you still. He’s right in your face and spitting acid. “What the hell’s wrong with you?!”

“The needle.” you hiccup and wrap your sweet little fingers around his forearm. Tears swell in your eyes from both pain and fear and it does something to him again, but he doesn’t relent. “The needle…I can’t – ” you whimper and plead, crumbling in his hold. “Please don’t, mister…”

He’s taken aback. The menace drains from his gaunt features, baring snarl gone, and his grip on your hair loosens.

“You’re kiddin’ me.” his eyes roll from you to the stimpak as if you’d said the most mind-blowing bullshit he’d ever heard. He dangles the wretched thing in front of you, watching you follow it incessantly, not even blinking. “You’re scared o’ this?”

You make a noise of displeasure and avert your face when he brings the stimpak closer. For once his mocking laugh isn’t welcomed. When he’s assured you’re not just being a brat and actually hold a crippling distaste for the needle, the ghoul pulls away with a scoff.

He thinks, rubbing his knuckles against his jaw while you sit between his knees, immobilized by his grip.

“Well shit...” he lets you go and you bonelessly slump back into the cart.

He’s not one for comfort, doesn’t know what words to use to help you overcome your dilemma; he can’t just jam the stimpak in and risk striking a bone, can’t slide it in gently because you’ll go into another fit. He could just leave…

“Look at me.” he beckoned and snapped his fingers at you. When that didn’t work, he grabbed your face and squished your cheeks, forcing you to obey by giving you a sharp jerk. He leans close enough for you to feel his breath hit your nostrils and of course, it smells like cram. “I said look. At. Me.”

Your eyes go from dazed to bulging when you feel the needle press back against your calf. A pathetic ensemble of bleats accompanies your heaving chest and you hold onto his wrist like it’s the only thing keeping you from dying on the spot.

“Shhhh – shhhh – shhh, ‘s okay sweetheart.” he hushes you with peculiar softness, stifling your meek complaints and scolding your eyes back to his own when he sees your attention dart down to your leg. You wince briefly at the prickle and his pinkie and ring finger leave your cheek and settle at the edge of your jaw, pressing down and rubbing ever so lightly. With an even push of his thumb, the syringe is emptied. “There you go…” he gives your cheek a good pat and leans away, resting on his knees. The pack of gauze you’d carelessly tossed away in your rampage was picked up and ripped open. “The good news is, you don’t need no stitches…but how d’ you intend to survive if you can’t even use a stimpak?”

“I’ll…” you smile in pain and it’s so crooked it rivals his. “I’ll figure it out.”

Tag list: @bountydroid @judgementdays-girl

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv series #the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul fallout #x reader #fallout the ghoul #fallout show #the ghoul

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thefallennightmare · 2 days

Note

Since we are back in concert mode, I would love to see how Noah would spend time with the reader after the first show of the tour is over. You know he would be full of energy and adrenaline 😏😉

SMUT BELOW THE BELT. Like really dirty smut, I guess it works they're in the shower, huh?

The second Noah jumps off stage, he's making a beeline towards you as you were hanging out on side stage for the show.

Before you could even congratulate him on a great show, he tossed you over his shoulder and began running back into the green room.

"Noah!" You giggled while bouncing on his shoulder. "I can walk!"

"We'd get there faster if I carried you," he smacked your ass.

Every night after they played Dethrone, Noah always became feral; wanting to sink his teeth deep into you.

Once inside the bathroom of the green room, he turned on the shower and began stripping out of what was left of his stage outfit.

"Strip, angel," he ordered, now standing fully naked and erect. "We only have a few minutes."

Your breasts were pressed against the cool tile in the shower, Noah's nails digging into your flesh as his cock pounded into you ruthlessly.

"Who is your God?" He demanded, smacking your ass.

"YOU!" You cried out.

"That's right, angel. Me. Bow to your fucking king," he spat while ripping you off his cock to force you on your knees.

They burned with the roughness of the shower floor and you knew there would be bruises later but you didn't care.

"Be a good girl and open for me," he grunted while wrenching your jaw open.

With your tongue out, Noah fucked your mouth just as he did your pussy and you hummed in approval.

You were a sucker for how intense and feral he became after a show, it always made for the best sex.

"Such a pretty angel for me, on your knees. Begging to have her mouth fucked by her king," Noah rasped with a hurtful grasp on your skull.

Although, the burn was euphoric.

"Open those eyes, let me see them as I cum all over your beautiful face," Noah demanded with a slight slap to your cheek.

With his cock in his hand, he gave it two long pulls before you felt his warm seed all over your face and lips, your eyes never leaving his as they were hooded. The water of the shower fell on his body like the river of ecstasy you found yourself swimming in.

Afterwards, he'd help you to your feet and clean up your face.

"I love you," he hummed while kissing your cleaned lips.

"I love you too," you fell into his embrace, limp with exhaustion.

#tina talks #noah sebastian #head cannon monday #noah sebastian headcannon #noah sebastian fanfiction

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remedyturtles · 22 hours

Text

very short disaster twins drabble for @liketheletter-l

[]

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

Donnie didn’t look up from what he was doing, typing on his laptop at top speed. “Why would you be a worm?”

“Stop asking for specifics and answer the question.” Leo was sitting on the floor next to his bed. He’d shown up and refused to leave, even though it was four AM.

“I’m busy, Nardo.” Donnie said, rolling his eyes.

Leo pulled his knees closer to his chest. He didn’t look over at Donnie on the bed. “Come on, it’s an easy hypothetical meme dude, just answer the question.”

“Would I still love you if you were a worm?” Donnie repeated, incredulous. “What kind of meme is that?”

“Nevermind.” Leo squished his cheek as he turned his head away, oddly sad about it. “It presumes you love me right now, I guess.”

The room echoed with the sound of his laptop snapping shut. Donnie tossed it out the bed with a little bounce and joined his twin on the floor.

“Why are we being stupid down here?” Donnie asked, and wove his arm around Leo’s shoulders. He was cold, just in a sleep shirt and shorts. There were so many blankets for him to steal, why was he sitting on the ground?

“I’m not.” Leo protested, pathetically, still not looking his way.

“I would still love you if you were a worm.” Donnie replied, firm and unyielding. “I would put all of my effort into reversing whatever ridiculous situation turned you into a worm, and if I could not, then I would turn into a worm as well. And we’d be worms together.”

A hazy beat of 4AM silence. Leo turned his head to Donnie with shining, nearly teary eyes, and said in a wobbly voice, “We’d be worms together?”

“Yes, L.” Donnie tucked Leo’s head under his chin and ignored the dampness immediately on the collar of his shirt.

#fic stuff #disaster twins #forgive the quality it was written on my phone as i laid in my bunk at a hostel LMAO #rem fic

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five-rivers · 2 days

Text

Cracked Clay Cup Chapter 13

@greatbigolhampuckjustforme

“Okay,” said Danny rubbing his hands together. “I’m going to do the big group next.”

“Group number four?”

“Yeah, them. Why’re there three of them, anyway?”

“You’ll have to ask them that,” said Clockwork. “Au jus?”

“Yes, please,” said Danny, reaching for the small bowl of sauce. “Your sandwiches are always really good.”

“Thank you,” said Clockwork. “Will you be leaving after lunch, then?”

“Yeah, I think that’ll be best.” Danny sighed. “No offense, but I’m kind of going a little bit stir-crazy, being inside all the time. I didn’t really realize until Pandora said something, but she was right.”

“That’s quite reasonable,” said Clockwork. “The trial has lasted for nearly a month and a half.”

“Really? I think I’ve only been with each person for about a week, and there’ve only been four people. Five, if you count the Observants.”

“Yes, but you’ve spent a good amount of time here as well. Those in-between days add up.”

“Huh. I guess so.” Danny took a bite of his sandwich. “I guess it sort of snuck up on me. A month and a half… So two weeks here.”

“Yes, but please chew with your mouth closed.”

“Oops,” said Danny, covering his mouth. “Sorry.”

Clockwork nodded and patted Danny absently on the head before making a small sandwich for himself. They ate together quietly.

“Three of them, though,” said Danny. “Are they all together, or something?”

“You will–”

“Have to meet them and find out. I know, I know. Should I brush my teeth first?”

Clockwork raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you’re right,” said Danny. “That’s probably too much effort. But I should put in some effort, shouldn’t I?” He nodded. “Yeah. Toothbrushing. Toothbrush. One minute.”

Danny had been in a lot of places over the last month and a half. A cute little house, two mansions possessed by people with questionable understandings of humanity, a warren of ice caves, an ancient Greek palace, and, of course, Clockwork’s purple place. He’d imagined a lot of others. Like open skies, broad fields, mountains, islands… horrible mad science labs…

However, he hadn’t imagined a place like this.

“Um,” he said, looking around the… stage? Rats' nests of cables were strewn about in every direction, and next to the curtains hunting trophies were hung. Heads, horns, antlers… hair? A tail? Whatever, this was weird, and there didn’t seem to be anyone around. “Hi?” He stepped forward over a tangle of cables. “Hello? Anyone–”

“BEHOLD! I, TECHNUS, MASTER OF ALL TECHNOLOGY–”

Danny leaped backwards, to hover over the seating area, startled by the ghost rising out of the cables. The stage lights came on, spotlights centering on the ghost. He had long white hair, green skin, sunglasses built into his face, and a tattered lab coat.

Music blasted out of speakers, rock and roll, screaming guitars, thundering drums and cymbals. A young, gray-skinned woman with fiery blue hair rose up from under the stage. She held a guitar painted with blue and pink flames.

“HEYA, BABYPOP!” she shouted into a microphone that appeared in a burst of fire. “WELCOME HOME TO MAMA EMBER, YEAH!”

“Hey!” whined the first ghost. “You said I could do the introductions!”

“I never said that. You said that. I was always going to do the intros. You think I’m going to leave it to you, when you just drone on and on and on and on and–”

“As if you’re any better!”

“I come with a sound track, audio jack,” said Ember.

“My god, you two are so loud, and you didn’t even bother to introduce me,” said a deep, slightly hollow voice. Danny startled again, twisting to see a ghost completely covered with silvery armor.

“I thought you didn’t care about introductions,” said Ember. She played a quick few chords on her guitars, then continued to use her music to punctuate her words. “Because big, bad, baddie, bad, hunky, hottie, hunter Skulker doesn’t need an introduction.” She leaned forward over the guitar. “His name speaks for him!” She started laughing so hard she floated up off the stage. Music continued to blare from the speakers.

“I, TECHNUS, MASTER OF ALL TECHNOLOGY, CAN TAKE YOUR SO-CALLED MUSIC OFF THE AIR!”

“We’re not even on the air!”

“I can’t believe I’m associated with these two idiots,” said Skulker.

“I’d like to know how you’re associated with me,” said Danny, trying to smooth down his fur.

“Isn’t it obvious, babypop?” asked Ember. “We’re you’re parents! Yeah!”

“Uh,” said Danny, looking at the very strange trio. “I don’t know about the other two, but aren’t you a little… young for that?” She couldn’t be all that much older than Jazz.

“I’m dead, kiddo. Son. Boy. Little man. I was a teen mom and all that. Totally radical rockstar living.”

“With, um,” said Danny. His eyes slid back and forth between Ember and Skulker.

“Skulker, duh,” said Ember. “Techy here is Skulker’s boyfriend or whatever.”

“It’s not whatever. I am his trusted–”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“We’re all dating, except when we’re broken up,” said Skulker, bored.

“Okay,” said Danny. “So… you’re both…” He shrugged at them.

“What does this–” Technus also shrugged, “--mean?”

“I don’t know,” said Danny. “You tell me.”

“Hm, the amnesia did not do favors for his intelligence! I liked him much better before! Do you want to see the lab?”

“The lab?” repeated Danny, backing away from Technus a little more.

“It really didn’t help your intelligence. Sad! Perhaps some electroshock therapy might help?”

“Hey!” said Ember, kicking Technus’s tail. “What did we say about electrocuting the flesh baby? What did that narc say? The tall purple one?”

“I know you know that Clockwork isn’t a narc,” said Skulker.

The three of them started to bicker. Danny watched in mixed fascination and horror.

White hair on Technus. Green eyes on Skulker and Ember. Human-like appearances. A mad science lab. Jazz’s belief that Danny would buy the absurdly youthful mother story. Frostbite’s conviction that his parents were abusive. Heck, Danny could even see them meeting Vlad in college, if he fudged the ages a little. He didn’t have any idea how old Vlad was, after all.

Were these his actual parents? Like, his actual, biological parents?

“Anyway, babypop,” said Ember, throwing a hand around Danny’s shoulder, “we heard about your predicament through the grapevine–”

“Through the grapevine? Weren’t you just saying you were my mother?”

“Yeah, but I was on tour, Skulker was hunting, and Technus was… Being Technus. We were, like, estranged. Separated. Because of the whole alive thing. Fell out of touch.” She waved a lazy hand. “Anyway, we heard about the Observants putting you through hell, and we were like, that’s not cool. So, we put our names in the hat, all that stuff, babypop, ‘cause we love you, y’know? And we’re going to have so much fun. I’ll turn you into a proper rocker yet. You’ve got a great set of pipes, kid, and you’ve got to use that.”

“But first!” shouted Technus, at only a slightly lower volume than before. “The GRAND TOUR!”

Danny took back that thought about the volume being lower.

“TO THE LAB!”

Danny cringed away from Technus. This was going to be a pain.

“Okay,” said Danny, floating a few feet over the floor to avoid the wires. “We’ve seen the stage, the sound room, the… conservatory?”

“Never say that I don’t have taste, babypop. You’ve got to have a good piano in a house.”

“Yeah, then workshop, and the server room, and the lab.” Which had, frankly, been horrifying. Just a massive mess of electronics. The sense of electricity in the room made his hair all stand on end. “And the weapon room. Then the… hunting. Place. And. Um. Zoo.” Which was also horrifying, but for different reasons.

“Yes,” said Skulker, “our space may be limited, but you will soon know the joy of the hunt.”

“... right,” said Danny. “But, like, is there a… kitchen?”

“Kitchen?” asked Ember, blankly.

“We don’t,” said Skulker.

“We mostly order out, when the great hunter here can’t catch anything!”

“Can anyone… get in to order out?”

Ember, Skulker, and Technus stared at each other.

“Crap,” said Ember, finally. “Crap.”

“What?” said Technus. “It’s not like we have to eat.”

“I kind of do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do. Everyone else has been feeding me.”

“Yeah, no, we’re ghosts, even you,” said Technus. “We don’t need to eat.”

“I can kill off some of the game I’ve already caught,” said Skulker, “if we really need to. I’d like you to hunt for them, though. A little extra incentive!”

“Right. Sure. Whatever. Bedroom?” asked Danny.

“We don’t need to sleep, either,” said Technus.

Fine. Danny wasn’t touching that. “Bathroom?” he tried.

“Gross,” said Ember. “Who’s spending their afterlife peeing?”

“Uh. Me?”

“Ew. You’ve got to quit that.”

Danny didn’t think that was a thing he could actually quit. He made a face. “You’re not actually my parents, are you?”

“Of course we are,” said Skulker, mechanically.

“Okay, well, that right there, that’s a lie,” said Danny. “That’s definitely a lie.”

“It’s not,” said Technus, stridently.

“Look, maybe some fighting would knock him out of his funk,” said Skulker. “Knock him right out.”

“Yeah, some of that misplaced aggression kind of thing he’s always on about,” said Ember.

Danny had no idea what he was talking about. “You guys do know that if I can’t have a place to go to the bathroom, I’m going to leave, right?”

“Maybe even a good hunt,” said Skulker. “For old times’ sake. Give him a good chase, get rid of some of that anxiety.”

Danny really hoped he wasn’t related to these three. He grabbed the pocketwatch.

“Wait, ghost child!”

“Okay, yeah, that’s not something you call your kids,” said Danny, pointing at Technus.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, you caught us,” said Technus. “Real sharp of you, ghost child! Real sharp and groovy.”

“Oh my god, you don’t know what any of those words mean,” said Ember. “Stop using them.”

“BUT!” shrieked Technus. “What you don’t know is that we’re your RIVALS!”

Danny grimaced. “What?”

“We fought you, like, a bunch of times,” said Ember.

“And… now you want to adopt me?”

“Better us than some of the nutjobs that want you. We’d just let you do your own thing, hang out, fight a bit when you get touchy about your stupid city, or too wound up about school, all that stuff.”

“But we’d NEVER make you go to SCHOOL!” said Technus. “I could teach you in the lab!”

“Wow, that’s, uh. Touching,” said Danny. “But the bathroom thing is, in this case, a dealbreaker.”

“Aw, come on,” said Ember. “At least have a good fight with us, first. Skulker’s been practically moping since you’ve been out of commission.”

“My latest hunts have been… flavorless,” said Skulker. Danny sighed. “Fine. But I’m going right after.”

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic

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justfangirlstuffs · 2 days

Text

So Much More

Adjustment periods can be difficult, job hunting even more so. But an unexpected visitor comes to provide a pleasant distraction. (Takes place after A Saltwater Room.) You x Sea Slug Moon

Wordcount: 2900

cw: slightly suggestive

Sea Slug AU belongs to @scarredlove

“Hello, sea star,” a voice spoke from your open bedroom window, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin.

You whipped around to see Moon climbing in through your window, his red eyes gleaming bright with delight and mischief. "Moon, you shouldn't be here," you muttered, hurriedly going to your bedroom door and closing it, locking it for good measure so no one came in unannounced. Your aunt said she'd be working late, and your cousin was staying the night elsewhere but... couldn't be too careful.

It had been several days since you'd been reunited with Moon and his siblings, Sun and Eclipse. Once you had believe them to be simple if not strange sea slugs that you had loved and lost years ago. Only to discover that in truth, they were some manner of mythical sea creature. Sea slugs, yet so much more than that. More than you could have ever guessed.

Honestly, you were still getting used to having them back in your life. It had been so long since you've seen them. They were so different, and you were different too. Time had chafed you, made you rough and tender around the edges. It didn't help that you were already going through an immense transition in your life. So suddenly having them back in your life... it was a lot.

"And yet, here I am," Moon giggled mischievously, leaning on the wall near the window.

The moonlight cast his shadow on the wall and reflected on his dazzling robes, the patterns of bio luminescence drawing your gaze with their mesmerizing beauty. His eyes were shining with amusement but he didn't look like he had any bad or malicious intentions.

His voice softened a margin. "Don't be mad... I just wanted to see you.”

The words cause an undeniable, split-second lift to your mood. When was the last time someone said those words to you? It felt like forever... "I'm not mad," you said quickly, wanting to reassure him in some form or fashion. You sat back down at your desk, with the newspaper classified ads spread out before you. "You guys just have a habit of showing up without warning. It can be..." What was a tactful way to put it? "...stressful."

The antennae on his hood twitched and drooped a bit. You didn't know it, but your words did make him feel a bit guilty. After all, he was known for sometimes being very intrusive and showing up unexpectedly, even when he's uninvited or at undesirable times. He took a step forward, leaning forward over your desk but not yet invading your personal space. Though by the look in his eyes it was on his mind.

"Well...we're family, right?" he said, as if that was enough of a justification for his actions. His head tilted to the side, his expression softening as his shoulders drooped a little. "Besides... aren't you happy to see me?"

You thought about that question. Which, yeah, wild that you even had to think about it. Most people would probably find it weird; shouldn't you be able to just.... know how you feel? Yet you had to pause, and reflect, and try and identify your mental state. And then you had to find the words to express it. It was like wading through static.

"I'm not unhappy," you said finally, looking at him sincerely. "And I'm not asking you to leave."

Moon was slightly taken back by your answer, but his eyes glimmered with amusement. "Well, that's a good start." He leaned a bit further on your desk, slowly closing the gap that was between you and him. "But you're not totally pleased by my presence either, are you? You're just tolerating it, is that right?" The corners of his lips curved upwards, as if he was daring you to try to lie.

"It's not that, it's just..." You bit your lip and glanced away from him, looking down at the multitude of jobs you'd either circled or crossed out. Such a simple task, yet for you it had been a monolith chore. "I just don't feel like I'm the greatest company right now."

He let his lips thin out, the smirk was replaced by concern. This wasn't the response he was hoping for. It might not be the worst that he could have heard, but it was not the best answer he could've gotten. His expression softened, his body became less imposing and he sat down on the bed beside your desk, gazing at you whilst taking care not to cross your personal space.

"Are you not feeling alright?" He asked earnestly, you could tell he was genuinely concerned for you and not just asking out of politeness.

Wasn't that a loaded question? But thankfully at least you had an immediate source of stress you could identify and voice.

"I need to find a job." You sighed, pinching bridge of your nose and squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. "I've been applying to various places but... I keep getting rejected."

It was tiring, and it was stressful, and it was such a soul sucking ordeal. Putting in the effort, waiting to hear back, only to be overlooked or declined. Not exactly a boon towards your self-esteem.

"Why do you need a job?" he asked curiously, head tilted to the side. He was still sitting near you, his legs crossed and hands resting in his lap. It was such an ordinary position but something about it made him seem even more approachable and calm. It was a stark contrast to his usual self that often seemed impish and playful.

"Because... I need to make money. I need to help out. I can't.... I can't be a waste of space." You voice broke over those last three words, like glass shattering against rocks. Tears burned your eyes as your anxiety swelled.

Moon's eyes widened in shock at your sudden breakdown, you looked... fragile and vulnerable, yet your words had an underlying tone of determination to them. You spoke as if you were ashamed and have to pay for simply existing in this world. His expression softened, he immediately reached out and grasped your hand. His skin was soft and cool, the texture far too smooth and alien to be human, yet it felt comforting.

"You're not a waste of space," he said in a quiet voice, his long fingers carefully lacing with yours. "Not to me. To me, you're... so much more than that."

Tears dripped down your face, and even though his words didn't completely calm your fears, they were until to keep you from getting pulled under by the riptide of anxiety. Moon's touch and genuine affection was like a life preserver keeping you afloat on rough waters. You were still getting tossed, but you weren't drowning.

"Thank you," you murmured, giving his hand a firm squeeze.

"Anytime," he answered, continuing to speak in that soft and gentle way. "And also..." He hesitated for a moment, but he looked at you. His gaze was sincere and genuine, like he wanted to say something but afraid of ruining the mood. "You can always come to me when you're feeling like this. I just... don't want you to be alone during these difficult times. Not again."

That managed to bring a small smile to your face, and you sniffled, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. "I'll keep that in mind, if I ever want to pal around with a troublemaker like you."

"Aww, troublemaker, huh?" He chuckled, a mischievous grin slowly spreading across his face as he squeezed your hand a bit. "A compliment from you? What a surprise. I feel honored."

A snort of mirth erupted from you and you had to grab some tissues to clear out your sinuses before you felt a little better. Moon shifted slightly in his seat, trying to get comfortable, though it's evident that all he wants to do is to get closer to you. He gave your hand a small tug, silently urging you to sit on the bed with him. You gave a heavy sigh but decided to let him pull you away from work to plop onto your mattress beside him.

"Wanna know a secret?" he asked, his antennae twitching restlessly.

"Oh, a secret?" you murmured, giving your voice an edge of conspiratorial playfulness. "Now I feel honored."

"It's about you." The glint in his eyes was impish and his smirk indicated that he was up to something. "But don't tell anyone, alright? Keep it between yourself and your old pal Moon."

"My lips are sealed." You drew your hand across your mouth like you were closing a zipper. "So, what's the secret?"

"The secret is..." He shifted his body closer to you - close but not too close- and you caught the scent of sea breeze and something sweet... like watermelons. His gaze sharpened on you, as if he was studying every small detail about your face.

His smile was still etched right across his features and you could practically feel his excitement building up. He took a deep breath as if he was about to tell you something that was forbidden. He whispered the words into your ear.

"You're beautiful." He had finally found a word that fit perfectly for what he wanted to say, and he just had to say it. His grin brightened up into a big smile, his gaze shifting from your eyes to your lips.

Your heart stuttered in your chest and suddenly heat was overwhelming your face like you'd just stepped out into the mid-afternoon sun. "O-Oh..."

Moon observed the effect his words had on you. Your blush, your fluttering heart beat, the way your breath seemed to come out all too lightly and quickly. He took note of all of them. His smile didn't falter, neither did his gaze. He took a risk, he was now closer to you, you could feel his robes brushing against your skin, gently caging you like the most lovely and velvety cage imaginable. His hand was still gripping yours as he stayed silent, letting the moment linger. He wanted you to experience it, to savor it and to feel it's warmth.

Your heart thumped loudly at the sudden proximity and you eased back just a little bit. Even after all these years, it seemed Moon was still a cuddly little guy... except he wasn't little anymore. And your perceptions of him were vastly different from how they were when you were younger.

"H-How have you been?" you asked. It was an attempt at regaining some control of the situation, yet it was also a question that had been on your mind every since you re-discovered them.

Despite the sudden change of subject Moon didn't seem to mind. He chuckled, his fingers still holding yours, his thumb tenderly brushing over your heated skin.

"I've been alright. Though..." His voice became quieter, and you had to concentrate a bit to hear it. "I've really missed you."

"I missed you too..."

A thousand apologies got stuck in your throat, choking off your next words. You'd had no idea that Moon and his brothers had been lingering so close to home. If you had, you would have come back sooner. Instead, you had stayed away, the bittersweet memories too painful to revisit. Yet another thing to pile onto your list of regrets.

He nodded and a brief flash of concern crossed his expression, as if he could sense the guilt in you. "You don't have to say it, I know." He smiled, a slight pity in it. This moment was no longer filled with light or laughter, it was heavy and full of regret.

"The past years... have definitely been hard on all of us," He finally said, breaking the silence that had settled between the two of you. "Especially to you."

You shook your head, already guilty that you'd managed to bring down a pleasant mood. "I'm fine. I've been... managing." That felt like such a lie. You didn't feel like you've been managing at all. "Really, I'm... I'm dealing with it. I'd much rather hear about you."

The fact that you tried to dismiss the conversation with a quick 'I'm fine...' made him feel even more pity for you. He noticed your reluctance to talk about it. You were still dealing with something and you weren't ready yet. You needed more time, and that was something he was aware of.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked, his voice softer, gentler than before. He looked at you, and you could see that he took your feelings more seriously.

"Of course," you said quickly, eager for a change of topic. Eager for something to distract you from the heavy weight that seemed to constantly be anchoring you.

He shifted his body again, his long legs now crossed over each other, his robes fanning out across the bed like a gleaming river or waterfall. His eyes scanned every part of your face as if searching for something. Finally, he took a deep breath, then spoke again.

"You know, I thought I'd find you so different. You had been gone for so long, I thought you were going to be..." He broke the silence again. "Different."

A burble of laughter erupted up. Though it was more of an expression of surprise than actual mirth. "You mean I'm not?"

"No... not really." He shifted once again, now leaning slightly closer, his eyebrows curling upwards with curiosity. "I think you're still you. I was expecting to see a complete stranger here. But you're still you. Everything that I remembered is still there. You're still adorable, you're still kind, and you're still so very warm." He smirked, his gaze was now intense as he stared at you closely. "Are you still ticklish, though?"

Your eyes widened and before you could react Moon pounced. You feel back on the bed, squirming as Moon began tickling you. "Moon! Moon! Stop! I can't... Noooooooo!" You screeched between fits of laughter as you kicked and squirmed.

Moon laughed, amused by the sight. He began to tickle you ruthlessly, his fingers quickly exploring every inch of your stomach, sides, and even underneath your arms. His laughter became so intense that he almost couldn't breathe. "I've missed doing this to you so much, little crab," he confessed between giggles. "And I missed the noises you make."

He eased up a bit and you had a moment to catch your breath, wheezing and giggling as you stare up at him. You were entirely sure what he meant. Was he referring to the times when you would take him out of his tank and let him crawl along your arms and neck? That had to be it.

"You are such a gremlin," you muttered, but the comment was said with affection. A lot had changed but... it seemed Moon wasn't all that different either.

"The cutest gremlin you'll ever meet," he replied, his voice dripping with mischief.

Moon leaned down towards your face, his hands still on your stomach as he gave you a big smile. He giggled with you, both of you were red in the face from laughing and from being tickled, and yet the two of you seemed so happy at that moment. He shifted slightly, trying to get a bit closer to you, his hands gently moving to your legs.

He leaned down, his face close to yours. "You know what I miss the most?"

The mood seemed to suddenly shift, and like the lurch of a car turning too quickly, you found yourself a little unsteady as you stared up at him. "Wh-what?" you spluttered out.

"Your scent," he said, his voice was very quiet and calm. He had moved even closer, he was breathing out in hot puffs on your face, and you could see his chest rising and falling. His gaze went down as he looked at you, his hands were still firmly on your legs, but he had made no sudden movements.

“Your taste.” Once again, one of his hands found yours, effortlessly threading them together as though that were their natural state. There was a calmness in the still, the air was heavier, a bit more intense, but not in a bad way. His voice was very soft and sincere, almost as if he was trying to tell you something.

"And your kisses," he finally said. This moment was finally ripe, it gave him the chance to see if you were still open to the idea. He was now even closer to you. His gaze pierced through yours, as if looking for an answer in them.

Staring up at him, you found yourself at a loss for words. He couldn't possibly mean what you were thinking, right? Sure, you used to kiss him. But he'd been just a little slug you could hold in the palm of your hand. But now he was... he was... what?

Before you could say or do anything, a stream of water shot across the room and hit Moon in the face, splashing against his cheek. You jumped as Moon hissed in surprise. The both of you looked around to see his brother, Sun, standing in your room with a squirt bottle in his hand and a far too wide smile on his face. To be continued...

#fnaf sundrop #fnaf moondrop #moon x y/n #moon x reader #sun x y/n #sun x reader #sea slug au #justfangirlwritings #not beta read so apologies for errors/typos

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endless-ineffabilities · 17 hours

Text

The Bolter (part five)

Steve Rogers x f!reader / (Bucky Barnes x f!reader)

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : In present day, the reader and Bucky get closer - will one of them finally slip up? We also see what happened in 2018, during the battle in Wakanda.

themes/warnings : pining, unrequited love, Bucky dealing with ptsd, brief mention of violence, language

word count : <2k

masterlist ▪︎ previous chapter

📝 a little bit of an explanation on the timeline : 2016 - Civil War ▪︎ 2017 - post Civil War / Steve and reader on the run ▪︎ early 2018 - Infinity War ▪︎ 2018 to 2023 - the lost years / post-snap ▪︎ late 2023 - Endgame / Steve's departure ▪︎ 2024 - present day / Falcon and the Winter Soldier period ▪︎ 1950s - where Steve went back

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

You win. Again.

By now, you're convinced Bucky is actually letting you win in Battleship. Each guess he made had been wrong, so it must be deliberate.

"James Buchanan Barnes," you sigh.

His lips form a sly smirk. He isn't even trying to deny it.

You reach across and lightly shove his non-vibranium arm. "It's no fun if there's no challenge."

He shrugs, "Maybe I like the way you react when you win. You get so... expressive." Another smirk. Damn him.

What could possibly be so amusing about the way you practically screeched and stuck your tongue at him the first time you won?

"Yeah, but you let me win four times in a row."

"Deal with it, doll."

"You suck."

He grimaces, "Suck?"

Right. You keep forgetting he is an very old, very ancient centenarian.

"It's an expression."

Something flashes across his face, and you can't really make out what it is. "Do you suck, too?"

"What?" you exclaim. "I just said it's an expression. It means you're annoying."

He holds your gaze for a moment, before laughing, eyes visibly crinkling at the corners. "I'm messing with you, doll. I know what that means. I'm old, not unaware."

Damn him again.

And damn the way the rare instances of his laughter is slowly growing to be a thing you yearn for. Bucky has a playful side, you've come to realize. You get this feeling of lightness, because you're proud of him. The more it comes out, the more it shows how much he has healed.

You blink at him, shaking your head, before bursting into laughter yourself.

Damn it all to hell.

It takes a beat for you to collect yourselves.

Then for a second, it's there. That fleeting shift in his expression. A pinch in his eyebrows giving way to a look of shame. Just for a moment, his mind drifts back to the long list of names in his notebook. To Yori's son. To the crimson in his ledger.

You notice, and you don't hesitate in taking his hand, squeezing gently. "Hey," you say, catching his attention. "I'm glad we get to do this."

I'm glad I have you.

Glancing down at your hand wrapped around his, he smiles, slowly, like a sun rising and casting its glow over the horizon.

"Let's play one more time," Bucky says as he begins rearranging the pieces on his side.

You were about to protest, but then he adds, "I won't let you win, I swear."

Fifteen minutes later, you do indeed win again. He laughs at the incredulous expression that must be plastered on your face.

You take it. Because maybe you did win, fair and square.

Or maybe because his laughter feels like winning.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The days have blurred into weeks and into months.

It feels like time is passing quickly, every second feels less and less like the lash of a whip, reminding Bucky of past pains. Of loss. Of all his sins.

Life almost feels normal. The kind of normal he is afforded in his life, at least.

Sessions with his court-mandated therapist. You. Dinners with Yori, desperately unable to tell him the truth. You. Sleepless nights, glimpses of his darkness haunting him. You. Sleepless nights, tempting images of you.

Behind all the laughter and the times you would spend playing Battleship on the floor of his barely furnished apartment, Bucky gets a sense of something gnawing at him. Something not unfamiliar, but unwelcome all the while.

It's fear. He has something to lose, once more. A friend or a kindred spirit. Whatever else you will find in each other. It's there and it's real, and it makes him feel like Bucky again.

He doesn't want to lose it, whatever it is. He's already lost Steve.

He's not going to lose you too.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

early 2018, Infinity War

After you and Steve left the cabin, it's like the universe was sent a go-ahead signal of some sort.

The world slowly descended into chaos, and the Avengers were needed back into the fold.

Your group had to rush to Scotland to rescue Wanda and Vision. Then it was back to the Avengers compound.

"You think all is forgiven?" Senator Ross asked, the threat evident in his tone. "You think you can just walk back in here like nothing happened? Romanoff has been leading my team on some wild goose chase - "

Natasha merely scoffs, unamused.

" - and Huntress has been actively aiding and abetting her fellow fugitives around the globe."

You were about to say something snarky, but Steve had already taken a step forward, partially shielding you from Ross' view.

"We're not looking for forgiveness, and we're way past asking permission," Steve declared.

In that time, life became drastically different from your days in Alaska. You barely had a moment of repose, worried about the fate of the world.

But you found comfort in the blonde super soldier who was constantly hovering over you. His eyes would meet yours before a decision would be made. His hand sometimes pressed at the small of your back as you walked beside him. Time and again, you found him watching you, a silent question in his eyes. You'd nod back, I'm okay.

You didn't notice, but in one of those moments, Wanda had witnessed the exchange.

And she felt it. That something. Much like what she has with Vision.

But it just wasn't the right time.

It is a bit hard to face the truth that you might be in love when the whole world is burning.

"I guess this is our normal, after all," you wistfully remarked to him one evening, after everyone else had left. The plans were laid. You all were to go to Wakanda the next day.

Steve felt a sense of bitterness arising from him upon hearing your words. It really isn't fair. He has always done everything right, but he's losing count of how many joys he's had to sacrifice.

He lost everyone once. His mom, his sister, Bucky, his fellow soldiers, Dr. Erskine, Peggy. He'd buried himself in ice, only to wake up again in a world that wasn't his anymore.

What else does he have to lose, who else, before he is finally allowed to be happy?

His smile was pained when he replied, "I think I figured out the kind of normal I want."

Despite your exhaustion, you smiled back and curiously asked, "Oh yeah?"

Steve hopelessly tried to commit you to memory. The lilt in your voice, the shape of your lips. That undying spark in your eyes, which remained even when everything was cast in gloom.

Just in case he would wake up one day and find his whole world taken from him once more.

"Yeah," he finally said.

The world is ablaze, but he's grown used to it. He knew he would lay his life down on the line again if that means it would be saved.

But everything be damned, he allowed himself one selfish thought when he confessed, "We never should have left that cabin."

I'm in love with you, were the words caught in his throat. His heart screamed it, yearning to be heard.

And you did.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It was a cruel twist of fate. But Thanos deemed it destiny.

Was it always meant to happen? Were they always meant to lose?

Steve didn't know how long he stayed on the ground next to the pile of ashes that used to be his best friend.

Bucky was gone.

Steve barely heard the screams. Anguished voices calling out the names of their friends, still searching.

All that would have been unbearable. The sounds of distress enough to drive one mad. But Steve heard nothing. He had nothing.

It's not fair. Inside, he felt like that sickly kid who was always dealt the worst hand. It does feel like he's a kid again, petulant and angry. It's not fair, he thought over and over, I don't deserve this.

Bring Bucky back to me.

Maybe it was all his fault. Maybe if he never took that damned serum... maybe... maybe...

"Cap," he heard someone break him out of his haze. Rhodey stood to the side. "Steve," he repeated, pleading, but Steve still could not find the strength to get up.

Then from the distance, he heard Natasha calling out for you. He stumbled to his feet, his head spinning. Casting one last glance at the spot where Bucky vanished, he turned and started running.

He found Natasha immediately, but not you.

"Where is she?" Steve growled, and his voice sounded rougher than he's ever heard before. Natasha would have recoiled in surprise, if she didn't possess nerves of steel.

"I'm looking," Natasha snapped impatiently. You would have been her loss too.

Steve felt as if he had already scoured through the whole field twice, his body threatening to just give in and crumble to the ground once more, as the hope of finding you dimmed.

Then he heard your faint voice, weak and weary, standing out among all the others.

"Steve?" There you stood, your face half-covered in dried blood and soot. "Did we lose?"

He swiveled around and took you in, a deep breath of helpless relief exiting his lungs. He was angry and defeated.

He wanted to throw Captain America to the wind, and surrender everything.

He wanted to hear his mother's voice singing to him again. This world is cruel, and he wanted to go back home.

But there you were.

There you were, and Steve knew he had not lost everything.

"How did it happen?" you asked as he approached. "Steve, what do we do? There must be something - "

His mouth crashes into yours with such bruising intensity that it makes you stumble backward, but his arms were quick to catch you.

He was right.

You never should have left that cabin.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

The nightmare is different.

It's worse. Much worse.

Bucky bolts upright on the floor of his living room, having chosen to bypass the comfort of his bedroom. He thinks this is because he needs to keep his TV on in the background, something to muffle the noise in his mind late at night.

Another reason, one he hasn't confronted yet, is how comfort feels so foreign. It feels wrong, like he doesn't deserve it.

Perhaps that is why he can't find comfort even in his dreams.

It flashes before his eyes, like a broken montage.

It's almost the same every time. He's the Winter Soldier. He's on a mission. There are faces swarming around him, bodies either racing to attack or running away. But he doesn't see any of them. He doesn't feel anything as he makes every single one of them crumble.

But it's different this time. The Winter Soldier does not so much as falter or show any hesitation as he wraps his metal fingers around your windpipe.

The Winter Soldier coldly watches as you expire. Bucky helplessly watches, unable to stop as he loses everything.

Thankfully awake, in this world where he still has you, Bucky's chest feels like it's about to implode.

So much for being a superabled freak.

The clock reads 3:13. It's late, but he needs some air.

He walks for 10 minutes, aimlessly. Then for 20 more, his mind having made a decision on its own. He soon finds himself standing in front of a familiar brownstone building, where your apartment is situated on the top floor.

You don't seem confused when you answer the buzzer. It wouldn't be the first time he has shown up unannounced.

"Can't sleep either?" You're a welcome vision when you greet him at the door, cheeks flushed by the white wine you usually drink at these hours.

She's still here, Bucky reminds himself. The only comfort that he won't deny.

Instead of walking past you, straight into your apartment like he always does, he takes one step closer.

And then another.

He shuts the door behind him.

You watch him carefully, scanning his every movement. There's something here, something different. He takes another step and he has you pressed against the wall.

His eyes betray the storm of emotion brewing inside. He has to remind himself that you're here, and he has you.

"Bucky," you whisper, and it's all he needs.

He leans in and finally touches his lips to yours.

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My emotions!!!!!! Hahahaha this chapter is a whole mess and so are our protagonists 🔪🫀

yes yes, expect that the next one is 18+ --- but I still won't say exactly with who --- maybe it's a trick? Maybe it's neither of them? Oh well, honestly some of you have got it bang on already 🤷🏻‍♀️

As always, I am keen to hear what you guys think!!

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #mcu #the avengers #chris evans #sebastian stan #the bolter

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giamee · 2 days

Text

𝐂𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖!

╭─────────────────────── ( 🎐 )

even though you don't talk, they'll still find a way to listen

› 〉 📂 .ೃ | mute reader, jus some fluff really, bit on the short side

requested by @/anon

╰─➤ 💌 ₍₁₎ ok i should nawtttt have used this colour scheme im squinting like a rat at my screen tryna see what i'm saying. the title is 'cigarettes out the window' (shoutout tv girl) if u couldnt read it which i do not hold against u

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 GEPARD.

it's simply in his nature to look out for others, to ensure that everyone is alright. and when he meets you, he's thrown for a loop a little. because you are fine.

the first time he sees you is in serval's workshop- you're just leaving, and something compels him to make sure that he speaks to you, even if it's for a few fleeting moments before you leave and he most likely never sees you again.

it's a simple question of how your day is, but you simply offer him a small smile before ducking past him, scurrying out of the door that he held open.

he's puzzled at first- maybe it's something to do with him? did you not want to talk to him? but then his sister explains that you're mute, and now he feels like a fool.

and thus begins his attempts to talk to you.

he writes you little notes to begin with. luckily for him, you're a regular at serval's shop, always seemingly having some device or another broken and in need of repairing. serval rolls her eyes at the pair of you- at gepard for being an idiot (you can still hear, you don't need notes), and at you for your attempts to run into her brother as often as possible (those machines weren't really broken).

despite this, it was somewhat amusing to watch the pair of you attempt to flirt with each other. and somewhat cute when your attempts worked.

you kept each and every one of gepard's notes to you, as redundant as they were. his handwriting was a little scruffy, and if you looked at them hard enough you could spot the little tremors where he tried to make the lettering neat.

a special treat was when he decided to add little doodles to them. it was anyone's guess as to what they were supposed to be- you were pretty sure that one of them was supposed to be you- and your heart warmed amidst the chicken scratch and stick figures.

you decide to write your own note back to him. in the top right corner is a little sketch of him, on a similar level to his own creations, that you hope he'll appreciate alongside the note.

you give it to him along with your best smile, mentally capturing the look of joy on gepard's fave at your little gift to him. you were gone by then, shyness overtaking your urge to stay, so you could only imagined his face when he realised that what you had written to him was a formal request to take him out on a date.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 DAN HENG.

for dan heng to open up to someone new, several criteria have to be met.

for starters, he had to be at least a little bit comfortable around you. receptive, but not too probing or overbearing. rational, but not judgmental. open, but not too much.

in many ways, he was like a cat. you had to let him come to you.

and luckily for you, you seemed to fulfil those criteria.

as one of the newest additions to the astral express, you were in some sort of in-between phase of being one of them and a stranger. you communicated in your own ways, but you found yourself withdrawing to your room. it was overwhelming, this new environment.

it was only natural that you felt more drawn to dan heng more than anyone else. he had similar qualities to you- more introverted, tended to keep to himself. and, as you later found out, you both had a tendency to burn the midnight oil.

it became almost routine to run into him when you're both up late, wandering the astral express for some peace of mind. brief encounters with little nods sent your direction gradually evolved into longer moments spent basking in each other's presence, mostly in silence. but not always.

you both had your reasons to be up late- on the nights where dan heng looked more frazzled, a certain look in his eye, is when you began to piece him together.

he'd lend you some information of his own volition occasionally, telling you about the nightmare he had, recurring or not. there was just this certain quality to you, a look in your eye that made him feel like you truly did listen to him.

and he wouldn't trade your late-night rendevous for the world.

𝜗𝜚 honkai star rail masterlist

#୨୧ gia.txt :: gepard #୨୧ gia.txt :: dan heng #hsr x reader #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff #honkai star rail x reader #hsr gepard x reader #gepard landau x reader #gepard x reader #gepard fluff #gepard landau fluff #hsr gepard fluff #hsr dan heng x reader #dan heng fluff #dan heng x reader #dan heng x reader fluff

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dreamescapeswriting · 3 days

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Fragile Promises ~ JHS

⤜WORD COUNT: 2.5K

⤜GENRE: established relationships, jealous girlfriend speaks up, toxic behaviour from Hoseok,

⤜PAIRING: Hoseok x Fem!Reader

⤜MASTERLIST

Large windows lined one side of the cafe that you and your best friend - Kat - were inside. It was a small place tucked away somewhere in the city, it was your "special place" as you guys called it. It was the one place the two of you could go to and fully relax - somewhere that wasn't your home - you'd come here at least twice a week to talk to one another, to catch up or to even just have some good food that the two of you could share and today was no different.

You and Kat had been looking forward to this lunch date for days, you'd been in desperate need of your friend and you'd been missing her a lot lately. Lunch was the perfect time to catch up, share stories and just enjoy each other's company away from the hustle of daily life.

"You should have seen Matt's face, it was incredible," Kat giggled, she'd just finished telling you about her boyfriend's reaction to her pregnancy news and you were over the moon for her, truly you were but there was something else that had grabbed your attention, commanding you to look away from Kat.

"What's up?" She whispered following your line of sight and landing on Hoseok with his arm wrapped around the shoulder of another girl. Your heart sunk at the sight of them together as you looked down at your hands, you knew who she was. Lisa was one of Hoseok's closest friends and had been for the longest time now.

"They seem...close," Kat said, her voice sounding almost as pissed off as you did but you bit down on your tongue. You knew that Lisa and Hoseok were close but it didn't make it easier for you to understand when they were together like this. Always so close, cuddling or laughing about inside jokes - which neither of them ever shared with you. Sometimes it just made you feel like they were joking about you or that you were being pushed out of the picture. L

You sighed, feeling a knot of jealousy tightening in your chest, you hated getting jealous over something like this but seeing them so close tore you up inside.

"I know they've been friends for a long time, but seeing them like this... it's hard not to feel insecure." Kat knew of your past relationships, boyfriends with "best friends" who turned out to be more, it was only natural for you to be a little unsure of their relationship together. Kat reached out and squeezed your hand.

"I understand, but you should talk to Hoseok about it. Communication is key in any relationship." You nodded reluctantly, you knew that talking to Hoseok would be the right thing to do but you weren't sure he was going to listen to you. Lisa had her claws in pretty deep with him and if she had it her way you wouldn't even be in the picture.

"Yeah, I guess," You mumbled, no longer feeling hungry enough to eat the food in front of you but you did it anyway, trying to come up with a way to talk to Hoseok about everything later.

As you stepped through the threshold of your shared home, you were met with an unexpected sight. Lisa was just leaving, giggling at something that Hoseok must have said before you walked through the door, but as she passed by you, you couldn't help but notice the smirk playing on Lisa's lips, a subtle hint of something more lurking beneath the surface. It sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a spark of unease within you.

As Lisa passed by, her gaze lingered on you for a moment too long, a silent challenge in her eyes. You felt a surge of discomfort, your suspicions about Lisa's intentions growing stronger with each passing second. While Hoseok might not have seen them you weren't as blind as he was to her, Lisa wanted Hoseok and would do anything to get him, at least she seemed to like that type.

Once she was gone you turned to Hoseok, your heart heavy with apprehension, you'd been coming up with something to say all afternoon and after seeing Lisa everything you'd thought about had washed from your mind completely.

"Hobi, can we talk?" You ventured, trying to keep your voice steady to make it seem as though you had control of this and weren't acting like some clingy girlfriend. You wanted to do this peacefully and calmly, just tell him how you were feeling and hopefully get some reassurance that everything was just in your head. Hoseok's brows furrowed in irritation, a hint of impatience colouring his tone.

"What is it now, Yn? Can't it wait? I have things to do," he snapped, his dismissive attitude cutting through you like a knife. He was under a lot of stress with work so you put it down to that, though he had seemed fine with Lisa earlier in the day which only pissed you off more. You couldn't let it go. The encounter with Lisa had stirred up a storm of emotions within you, and you needed answers.

"It's about Lisa," You began tentatively, your words catching in your throat and it was as if all time had stood still. You watched as Hoseok - with his back to you - stood up straight and his whole body turned ridged. He must've known what you were going to talk to him about since it was something you'd bought up once or twice before. His eyes narrowed as he turned around to face you, his jaw clenched in frustration.

"What about her? I've told you a hundred times, she's just a friend. Can't you trust me?" he retorted, his voice laced with accusation. It wasn't that you didn't trust him, it was her you couldn't trust. And the fact that he was refusing to even acknowledge how you were feeling in the situation fueled you with so much anger.

"It's not just about trust, Hoseok. It's about boundaries. I can't shake off this feeling that she wants more than just friendship with you," You confessed, your voice trembling with emotion as you waited for him to say something, anything, just some kind of reassurance that all of this was fine and he only wanted you but it wasn't what you got.

"You're so fucking controlling, you know that," He spat out harshly, laughing dryly as he threw the take-out containers onto the table and shook his head at you.

"This jealousy of yours is getting out of hand," He shook his head at you, you'd never seen him look so angry before and it scared you that this was how he was choosing to react instead of talking things through with you.

"Hobi, please, can we just talk about what happened with Lisa?" He let out an exasperated sigh,

"What more is there to talk about, YN? I've already told you countless times she's just a friend!" He yelled at you, finally losing his patience as he rubbed his face in frustration,

"I know, but... it's just... she looked at me like... like there's something more going on." Maybe it was all in your head, or maybe it was Lisa trying to mess with you but you needed confirmation from him.

"Oh, come on, Yn! Are you seriously going to let some look from Lisa drive you crazy? You're being so clingy and paranoid!" He scoffs at you, making you feel as though you were truly what he was calling you, but you knew Lisa and you knew she'd get everything she wanted.

"I'm not trying to be clingy or paranoid, Hobi. I just... I can't shake off this feeling. I'm scared..." Your voice trembled as you finally admitted it to him and he shook his head at you, staring at you with a darkness in his eyes you'd never seen before.

"Scared of what? That I'll leave you for Lisa? That's just absurd, Yn! You're letting your obsession with this whole situation ruin what we have!" He gestured between you both and you shook your head at him.

"I'm not obsessed! I'm just trying to express how I feel. Is it too much to ask for you to understand that?" The question hung in the air, it felt like an eternity had passed before he finally answered you.

"Yes, Yn, it is! You're always so damn controlling, trying to dictate who I can and can't be friends with. It's suffocating!" It was like a punch to the gut as you heard him admit this to you. You'd never once tried to tell him he couldn't see her or spend time with her, you just wanted him to let you know everything was okay.

"I'm not trying to control you. I just need to know that our relationship means something to you, that you care about how I feel." Tears streamed down your face as Hoseok shook his head at you, his resolve remaining unyielding,

"Well, if you can't trust me, maybe we shouldn't be together," he declared, his ultimatum hanging heavily in the air. You watched helplessly as Hoseok turned away, his words echoing in your mind like a cruel refrain. With a heavy heart, you realized that your once-solid foundation was crumbling beneath the weight of unspoken truths and unbridled resentment. And as you stood alone in the silence of their home, you knew that your relationship would never be the same again.

"N-No...No, you can't just walk away." You whimpered, rushing to stand in front of him, ready to beg him not to leave you if that was what it was going to take to get him to stay.

"H...Hobi, please... don't leave me. I can't imagine my life without you. I promise I'll be better, I'll change. Just give me a chance to make things right." You pleaded with him, tears streaming down your face but you didn't care how you looked or how desperate you sounded, you couldn't go without him in your life. Sighing Hoseok stepped away from you,

"Yn, I... I don't know if I can do this anymore. It's been so hard lately, and I don't feel like you understand me." Ironic since it was him who didn't understand your feelings but you weren't in the right stand of mind to process anything right now, so you shook your head, holding onto him tightly.

"I understand, I do. I know I've been too needy, too controlling. But I'm willing to work on it, I swear. Just please, don't give up on us." You stared up at him, he hesitated, staring down at you and biting his lip.

"I don't want to give up on us either, Yn. But something has to change. I can't keep feeling suffocated in this relationship.

"I hear you, Hobi. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to fix things. Just tell me what you need from me."

"I need you to trust me, and Lisa because she's not going anywhere," He mumbled, you nodded at him before he walked away, cleaning up the living room as if he hadn't just threatened to leave you. Not even giving you so much as a kiss or an apology for the things he had said.

Several months had passed since that tumultuous evening, yet the rift between you and Hoseok seemed wider than ever. Your once radiant smile had faded, replaced by a haunting sadness that lingered in your eyes. Unspoken words were written down in journals and never to your boyfriend who you had once told everything. But you were terrified that if you admitted you were still jealous he'd leave.

Hoseok, consumed by his own pursuits and blinded by his stubborn pride, had failed to mend the wounds he inflicted on your relationship, leaving you with a hole inside of you that desperately needed to be filled.

You found solace in the companionship of your male best friend from work, Jake. You shared laughs, inside jokes, and long conversations that lifted your spirits in ways Hoseok couldn't anymore. Jake's presence breathed new life into you, reminding you of the joy and warmth you had lost.

But as your friendship with Jake blossomed, Hoseok's jealousy reared its ugly head this time. He couldn't bear the thought of you finding happiness outside of your fractured relationship, just as you had struggled with his closeness to Lisa.

One day, as you returned home from spending time with Jake, you walked through the door with a giant smile on your face, one you hadn't been able to wipe since Jake had dropped you off at him.

"What's got you smiling so much?" The voice cut through the air and the smile was instantly wiped, you found Hoseok waiting for you, a solemn expression etched on his face. He had finally come to terms with the gravity of his mistakes, the weight of his regret heavy in his heart as he finally realised everything you must have been going through all those months ago.

"Jake said something pretty funny," You replied plainly, putting your bags down and taking off your jacket. The air was thick with tension as you slowly made your way through the living room and Hoseok sighed,

"Yn, we need to talk," He began, his voice tinged with remorse as he stared at you, he didn't expect you to forgive him after all this time but you were still together so there was at least a fighting chance.

"I realize now how badly I've messed up. I should have listened to you and respected your feelings, but I was too blind to see the damage I was causing." Caught off guard you stared at him, your gaze softening with a mixture of pain and hope. Neither of you had spoken about that night, it was a dark spot in your relationship neither of you went near again.

"Hoseok, I've been trying so hard to make things work between us, but it's been so difficult. I don't know if I can go through this again." You sniffled a little, you didn't want him to fight with you again, you were trying everything to move past what had happened. Hoseok reached out, gently taking your hand in his and it suddenly felt like the first time he had touched you in a long time.

"I understand, Yn. And I don't expect you to forgive me right away. But I promise to do better, to be the partner you deserve. I'll make things right, no matter what it takes." Tears streamed down your face as you searched Hoseok's face, seeking sincerity in his words. And though the scars of their past lingered, you couldn't ignore the flicker of hope igniting within you once more.

"Okay, Hobi," You whispered, the nickname slipping out of you with ease as you felt a weight lift from your shoulders.

"Let's try to make things better... together." As you embraced, you felt a glimmer of optimism blooming within you, a fragile yet resilient seed of reconciliation taking root amidst the wreckage of your fractured love. And with each step forward, you embarked on a journey of healing, redemption, and the endless pursuit of second chances.

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