#i lived the song enough on its own without knowing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grugruel · 1 month

Text

Say it Again

Pairings: Cooper Howard x f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: For a long time, there'd been a quiet, reciding fondness between you and your companion. And when you finally journey back to your old vault, feelings are stirred from the depths and brought to the surface.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: (mentions of blood, violence, death), angst, pinv sex, passionate sex, strong feelings, "I love you", pet names (darlin', sweetheart, honey), hair pulling (squint and you'll miss it), overstimulation, creampie, praise (both recieving).

AN: Not yet proofread! Let me know what yall think about the music inserts. I figured since its such a big part of the fallout universe, I might aswell ad it in a fic too! Enjoy yall!!

The vault was open. . . It took my mind a few moments to wrap around the idea.

The thought of it being perpetually shut was so hard-wired into my being that I would've thought the gaping door a hallucination had it not been for my own departure a few months prior.

And I knew- I knew it ment nothing good. But perhaps they'd all left–alive, wandering the wasteland in search of better luck–a better life.

♪ Yes, pretending that I'm doing well

A familiar melody rang faint, barely reaching through the howling wind as it sang up a storm of scorching sand, whipping and tearing at my clothes.

In abivalence, I made my way toward the facade. Eyes examining the number 33 written in a bold, weathered font on the hefty external door.

A pang of guilt hit me–maybe I shouldn't have left, maybe I could've prevented whatever happened here. With the inhale of a calming breath, I stepped up to the construction, running the flat of my palm along the beaten but familar metal.

Then, without so much as a single thought of caution, I stepped over the threshold. The safety of a vault- my vault, was too fresh in my mind. That allong with the trust I placed in the hands of my shadow, suspecting his vigilance to be enough for the both of us.

Tracing the cool, grand archway with my fingertips as I entered, feeling the wear of oxidisation on its surface. Such a small detail I'd never payed any mind to before. How aged it was, yet still standing strong. A reminder of its resilience- of its impenetrable metal, planned to withstand outside threats for hundreds of years. And now, there it stood–wide open. The derision of the situation nagged me terribly.

♪ I'm lonely but no one can tell

When no longer veiled by the wind, the song sang clearly, its notes reverberating throughout the metal in a forboding fashion. Setting off a feeling of unease in the pit of my stumache.

While I stood familiarising myself again, I could feel a pair of eyes watching me, observing me. Monitoring my grief-struck and conflict ridden mind with a commiserating gaze. Their constant and reassuring prescence hovering behind me in semblance of a specter, keeping a respectful distance as my mind worked through what might have transpired while I was away.

♪ Oh yes, I'm the great pretender

The volume grew stronger as we made our way inside, my feet moving with slight hesitation as they clanged along the grated flooring.

♪ Adrift in a world of my own ♪

Stepping on the elevator, I steadied myself against the railing, feeling it vibrate beneath my hands with the frequency of the music. Those sweet well-known tunes only growing more and more eerie as we descended, accompanied by that strange constant hum from the bedrock, from the quiet. A white noise that only lived in vast open constructions such as this. Inhabiting the walls, the floor, and open spaces made from metal and stone.

A shiver ran down my spine, I'd never liked the quiet, despite the volume of the music, the quiet resounded. It'd always made to much noise in my mind.

♪ You've seen and you've left me to dream all alone

But when the doors opened to the floor below, a reassuring hand placed itself on the small of my back, amicably giving me a final push when I'd stood too long hesitating.

And it helped, it really did. The eclipsing stillness of the vault and the distorting of the music softened, fading and returning to that of good times–when they'd still existed.

♪ Too real is this feeling of make-believe

But the possibilities of what I might find ahead launched a gruesome assault on my mind. I tried distracting myself–thud, thud, thud. Our dull steps tapped against the floor. A pair of spurs clicking along with the steady rythm, leather groaning. Turns out I could only hear him, and I prefered it that way.

♪ Too real when I feel what my heart can't conceal

It was a better focus then the constant searching for bloodsplatter and unmoving bodies, splayed out on the floor or tucked into a corner, seeking shelter, protection–spurs, leather-

I snapped back, the lyrics echoing in my mind and bouncing of the walls simultaneously, resonating throughout the empty halls as I jumped off of that dark train of thought before it could spiral further. The hands scrunched the fabric of my clothes, silently checking on me, attempting to refocus my mind. On the music, on him, anything was better.

♪ Yes, I'm the great pretender

I followed the words, thinking of the ones before and those to come. I still remember the list of songs. They'd played during weddings and social gatherings. We had them in our houses. I remember dancing in the kitchen, with swaying to the music with those I love. It was one of those moments which you knew you'd remeber forever, which would become a core part of you. Always to be looked back on, and sure enough.

I could't help myself from smiling, such fond memories. In my peripheral, his eyes softened. Still keeping his vigilant watch over my well-being, returning my smile with no intention of ever telling me, unkowing that I had indeed noticed him as he did so.

♪ Yes, just laughing and gay like a clown

But now, as I wandered the abandoned halls of the vault, they were only a tragic reminder of a time gone by–yet, I could see no bodies, no evidence of a fight or struggle–relief flooded through me. However, I still didn't dare make my way down to the compost section, I'd walked that path to many times on my last day here.

♪ I seem to be, what I'm not, you see

The hand angainst my back brushed my clothed skin with a thumb, circling a vertebra, moving to squeeze my arm as it then fell back to his side. The loss of his touch was dissapointing, but the closeness of his body made up for it.

We took a turn, away from the chance of decaying bodies and toward the fields of crop. I wanted to see it one last time, remember that last wedding–the good times, before I left and the place had become this, before it was reduced to a graveyard of memories.

♪ And I'm wearing my heart like a crown

I found my eyes wandering as we walked, constantly sliding to the man beside me. An aching arose in my heart, the two of us could've been something real sweet. Something true, something strong. If only we had the freedom of chance and opportunity. But as it were, we simply coexist, solely striving to survive in a world swallowed up by nuclear waste and feral brutality. I don't know what I would've done without him, it was a long road for us to grow this close–we didn't get along too well when we first met.

♪ Oh yes, I'm pretending and praying that you're still around

The music tunes out, fading into quiet nothing, like dust particles leaving rays of light–simply seizing to exist. I felt the comparison too familiar for my liking, turns out anything is just a metaphor for something else.

After waiting patiently and biding it's time, that strange hum takes up again. Making me wish he'd hold me steady, a d let the drumming of his heart be the only thing I hear. A wish that frequented my mind a lot as of late.

It's interesting how much you learn about yourself and the world when leaving the safety of your vault. The most ironic thing–radiation, and the fact that its the least to be worried about on the surface, the real danger being what dwells in the midst of it. Creatures–beasts, savages and monsters. The rad mutated animals are nothing compared to the barabarians that the human species have become, I really had no idea what stripping someone of their basic needs and a guaranteed future could do to a person before I entered the wasteland. And now, I cant help but marvel at the fact that only a few have resorted to eating eachother and worshipping radiation.

Dog-eat-dog is an old expression that comes to mind. Apparently it was used way before all of this befell us, and I can't help but imagine how bad we could've been back then to create such a phrase in a law-abiding society. But they were the poeple to destroy the world and we to rebuild it, so perhaps its not that strange after all.

Either way, I don't remember it personally. I wasn't alive back then, but it was told to me by someone who was.

The next song started up, the sorrowful tune keeping the deafening white noise at bay, and as I had predicted the list, it was my favorite to be played.

♪ There's a place where lovers go

To cry their troubles away ♪

The tape, surely damaged–played a slower version than I remembered, but it was all the same to me as I let it envelop me in a veil of comfort before finally laying eyes on what we'd come here for–corn. I felt their green stems beneath my fingers as I walked along the field, it was a miracle they were even alive and surviving whatever hardships they'd encountered. Another metaphor.

There came a rustling behind me, my companion doing the same as I had. A scarred hand reaching out to slide his fingers through the crop, keeping a stunned expression on his face, the corners of his lips curling upward.

♪ And they call it Lonesome Town

Where all the broken hearts stay ♪

It must've been a long time for him since feeling something living like this. Much, much longer than it had for me. And I'd just taken it all for granted.

Keeping our pace, we followed the path through the crops until fianlly, the familiarity of a huge wall welcomed me home.

Surrounding me was a vast sky with millions of stars and endlessly stretching mountains, following a path so distant I could not spot the end, all the while the high moon cast silvery blue light upon the world. A projection of the Nebraskan countryside. I used to stare at it for hours, dreaming myself away to a place that no longer existed. 'Did it really look like this? The world- I mean.' I hatched out of me.

♪ You can buy a dream or two

To last you all through the years ♪

'It sure did.' My companion turned to face me, choosing a lesser view over the pretty one before him. He was a mere arms-length away. 'It could be real beautiful.' He said, his eyes roaming my face.

♪ And the only price you pay

Is a heart full of tears ♪

He was a brute, that is true. He was the outcome of living through literal hell, but he'd fared quite well through it all in my opinion. He had his humanity left, which is more than I can say for the majority of the population. Charming and quick-witted, dangerous and cold. He'd seen who we were and what we had become, it's no wonder he acted the way he did. But it was all the same to me, he was strong and handsome, he could even by kind-hearted at times, and I loved him through it all.

♪ Goin' down to Lonesome Town

To cry my troubles away ♪

The implication made me blush, and shy away from his eager eyes while I averted my own, leading them back to the contryside. 'I wish I could've seen it.' I tried to focus, studying the sight meticulously, jotting down every detail in my mind. I hadn't had time the last time I was here- not to dwell. Too late now it seemed, the memory resurfacing with a passion as my eyes drifted over the scorching cloud in the sky, burned into the irreplaceable film. My lips drew into a thin line as I swallowed, it was reality, it was life. But it didn't stop my stumache from churning, the stench of wet metal revisiting my nose.

♪ Goin' down to Lonesome Town

To cry my troubles away ♪

A scarred hand reached up to brush strands of hair from my face, again, distracting me mercifully. Rough knuckles gently sliding over my cheek and the neighing of my jaw. 'I wish you could too.' He grasped my chin between this thumb and index finger, tilting my face upwards, our gazes meeting eachother.

♪ In a Town of broken dreams

The streets are filled with regret ♪

I leaned into his touch, for it was rare. Rare that he allowed himself simple pleasures such as touching me, even though I would willingly give myself to him at a moments whim. 'I love you.' I whispered. 'Please, please let me.'

♪ Maybe down in Lonesome Town

I can learn to forget ♪

The music glitched, the sound warping spookily as the needle scratched and jumped the groves in the needle. Shutting off for a second and then coming back on, restarting the song.

He shook his head, eyes uncharacteristically soft as met mine. Uncharacteristic to anyone but me. 'I can't feel ya', sweetheart.' He reclaimed his hand and took a step back, squeezing it into a fist, frustration shaking it as he cursed himself. The music tuned out, and all I see was the blue light contrasting his red-burnt skin, enforcing its texture as shadows settled in the contours and the pale silver on his high points. All I could hear were his words, the frustration and insufficiencies hinding in his tone, mirroring my own. 'Can't feel your fuckin' softness, cant feel your skin.'

'You can–' I followed his movement, gaining on the distance he'd created between us. '–it might not be ideal, but it's us.' I slid my fingers along his clothed arm, grabbing his coarse hand.

'I'm here, not perfect, and that's what you can feel. Imperfection. . . It's something that belongs to us.' I gave him a faint smile, doing my best to reassure him. To truly make him understand.

'I dont deserve you.' He leaned his forehead against mine, his cowboy hat sliding up his head as he did so.

It was my turn to shake my head now. 'Oh, but if you only knew what you desvered.' My voice broke, eyes watering. 'The world, coop. You've been through so much, you survived the bombs dropping for fucks sake, and the following 200 years after that. What you did during those years was for your own survival, please do not ever feel bad about any of it.' The silence that ensued became too long, too deafening. 'I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, so beautiful in your own right.' A tear fell down my cheek.

'I dont feel bad 'bout it sweetheart, thats the problem. I aint any of that, 'm a selfish killer. There's nothin' left of who I were–the good part. . .' his hand slid down my arms, squeezing my biceps to emphasize. '. . .what little good there was, it died a long time ago.' His drawl thick as he spoke, kissing my forehead. 'You can do better, 'n I cant allow those precious years of yours to go to waste on somethin' like me.' He wrapped his arms around me, placing one hand on the back of my head, cradeling it to his chest as he pulled me close, resting his chin on top of my head. The wetness of my cheeks transfering to his shirt. 'Don't cry, sweetheart. Dont cry 'cause of me.' He kissed my forehead again, working his way downward–cheekbone, jaw and finally–my lips.

His hands slid down the outline of my body, shoulders and ribs, then settled on my waist. He pulled me closer, deepening the kiss in the same motion.

♪ Maybe down in Lonesome Town

I allowed him to kiss me for too long, I allowed him to believe his own words for too long. I pulled free, tearing away to breathe, to lock my eyes on his. 'I dont want who you were, dont you understand?' I cup his face, truly feeling him beneath my fingers, and loving every bump and dent. 'I want who you are now, scars and all. It's not for you to allow me anything. Get that in your head.' My voice had gone harsh, and even though he needed to hear it with all the conviction I muster, I added 'Please. . .' As softly as I could.

♪ I can learn to forget

The last notes of the song died out.

He shook his head as a small, breathless, humorless chuckle erupted from his lips. '. . .I love you too. . .'

♪ Only you

The next song started, the voice vibrating through his bones. A song he'd danced to when it was first released, twirling a life that no longer existed in his arms. He closed his eyes, humming along to the tune as he embraced the memory, arms wrapping tightly around its waist, hugging it lovingly one last time. Then let go.

♪ Can do, make this world seem right

He mouthed the words as he opened his eyes, finding her sweet face looking up at him, his pretty girl. It'd taken him more than he wished to admit, to say those three words. How such meak and fruitless words had cause him so much turmoil, he didn't know.

♪ Only you

Because when he looked at her now–stars projecting in her glimmering eyes, the wetness of tears remaining on her cheeks, anf with the backdrop of a countryside from a bygona era–the prevailing feeling was grief, a mourning over the precious time wasted, time he could've spent in admitant love with her. Holding her, kissing her, loving her. Things he just hadn't allowed himself to concede to, to fall slave under it. To truly feel it from the bottom of his heart–instead, reciding in the pit of it, in some dark, tucked away corner, was the feeling of being lesser and undeserving of her softness, her own kind heart.

♪ Can do, make the darkness bright

'Come.' She said, a faint smile on her lips as she grabbed his hand, pulling him with her. Away from the corn, away from Nebraska. He followed her willingly, blindly trusting her as she pulled him to wherever. He didn't care, as long as he was with her.

♪ Only you and you alone

The music grew fainter, devolving into a sweet hum, a lullig as the distance of the speakers tossed the sound boucing after them, echoing along the vaults longevous walls while they moved through them.

He turned her hand over as they walked, observing it quietly as he rubbed gentle circles into the plush skin of her hand, admiring what softness he could feel, his distorted hands dulling the sense unbareably.

♪ Can thrill me like you do

But it didnt matter in the end. Imperfection is what she'd said, and it belonged to them. His heart ached, eyes drifting over the small form leading him. The way her hair swayed and body moved, he could feel himself harden. Guilting himself. It was love for a woman, a family, that had once driven him to survive- with that life now long gone, it was that beautiful girl infrontnof him that kept him going.

♪ And fill my heart with only love for you

They passed several doors with accompanying mailboxes, until she slowed and halted her steps so suddenly, she almost collided with his chest. Her form stood frozen, contemplating, just as she'd done when they first entered the vault.

A scorched finger rose up to stroke her cheek. 'You alright, sweetheart?'

♪ Oh, only you

'Mhm. . .' She hummed. 'One moment.' And whipped around to face him, opening his saddlebag to rummage through it.

Unsuspectingly, a blush crept it's way up her cheeks, seemingly caused by the intent gaze he focused so tightly on her.

♪ Can do, make all this change in me

They'd just kissed, professed their love. Yet, it was his closeness, his warm breath against her that made her blush. He'd never want to be anywhere else. His gaze wandered, studying the home they stood infront of. Eyes landing on a mailbox, he read the full name aloud with a loving smile on his lips.

'I like the way it sounds when you say it.' She whispered, a coy smile on her lips. Suddenly- her eyes widened, finding what she'd been looking for, she pulled the object out of the bag, holding it up for him to see. An old pipboy.

"Welcome" it read, and as she turned one of the kogs, the door to the house opened.

♪ For its true

It was exactly the way I remembered it, not a detail out of place–rather an added layer of dust coating every surface of the place.

I ran a finger along the top of my scratched desk, gathering a pillow of dust on top of it. And then I saw it, standing lonely and abandoned–my old radio. Glee filled me as I turned it on, reflecting the song that was already playing outside. Filling my little house with soft waves of sweet tunes, all thr while weighing my heart terribly. Strong nostalgia splitting me in two. 'I used to love dancing.' The words left my lips in a soft murmur. 'Some of my favorite memories are from this kitchen, and now. . .' My voice broke. Inspected the dust and rubbed it between my fingers, observing how it crumbled to the floor. Perhaps another meatphor–how I myself am responsible for my old life crumbling.

♪ You are my destiny

A pair of hands found my waist, a chin coming to rest on my shoulder. He pulled me close, my back thudding against a strong chest. 'Its alright. . .' He breathed against my neck. 'We can make new ones.' Kissing my skin softly as he began moving with the music.

♪ When you hold my hand

My lips curled into a smile as I declined my head against his chest, snaking my hand behind his neck as the other fell on top of his hand, squeezing it with gratefulness. 'Thank you.' I whispered.

♪ I understand the magic that you do

He twirled me around, luring a giggle to erupt. He caught and pulled me close again, this time face to face. His eyes were still so clear, such a stark contrast to his muddled skin.

♪ You're my dream come true

The lyrics seemed to speak for us as my fingers interlocked behind his neck, my thumbs brushing his jaw. While his hands squeezed my sides, exhaling a long breath as we swayed, his eyes intently searching mine. 'I love you, sweetheart.'

♪ My dream come true

Without hesitation, my lips met his. 'Then prove it to me Coop. . .' Coyness tugged on my lips, my hands sliding to the buttons of his vest, '. . . Let me feel it.'

♪ Oh-oh, only you

He grinned against my lips. 'Anyhtin' for my girl.' And his hands wrapped around mine, helping them unbutton his clothes, skiding them off of him. Barechested as he was, he twirled me again. Back to chest, he whispered in my ear, 'Your turn, darlin'.'

♪ Can do, make all this change in me

Gladly, with my hands still guided by his touch, I brushed them along my torso, undoing every button of my shirt as I did so and slid it off my shoulders, my bra coming off next. He cupped them eagerly, a groan leaving his lips as he massaged them. Ingiting a pulse deep in my uterus. The music seemed to tune out off my mind, selective hearing I suppose.

Moaning in response, I could feel him harden as he pressed his hips into my ass. 'Need to feel it.'

'Undress.' Was all he said, removing his own clothes as I did mine.

A short moment later, he had my back pinned against a wall and my legs wrapped around his hips as he held me up with a firm arm around my waist–the other busy lining himself up with my core.

Suddenly- he pushed inside, leaving me as a whimpering mess. 'Good girl, sweetheart. . .' He whispered, doing nothing to ease the aching matter. '. . .sound so pretty for me.'

And without warning, he pulled out, and thrusted back into me again with full force. 'Mmh- Fuck!' I cried out. But his lips were on mine before I could fully register how big he was. Again and again, he trusted right into my core. His tongue fighting for control as it battled my own. My body was aching with a burning want for him, a need so strong I already felt myself closing in on my orgasm. '. . .'M gonna cum, Coop. Slow down, p- please. I stuttered the words, strained breaths dividing the sentence.

'Its ok sweetheart, you're doin' so well.' He reassured me, then took my words as a direct command and pushed us off the wall, walked over to the bed and threw us onto it with a cloud of dust kicking up around us.

Obiding my request, he backed up, hooked my legs over his shoulders and re-entered me with a shuddering moan. The feeling of my core effecting him as badly as his member effected me. With one hand burried in my hair, the other palmed a breast while his lips found my neck, gently taking my skin between his teeth as he pushed so deep inside me I almost screamed, but managed to bite my lip to keep quiet. That's when I felt him shake his head against me. 'Don't go all quiet, let me hear ya', honey.'

And so I did, releasing a string of curses disguised as moans while I wrapped my arms around his neck, placing kisses on his cheek while nuzzling my face against him. But I felt that blinding pressure building again, slower this time, but with an unrelenting force.

His warm breaths against my neck accompanied by the feeling of him inside me and the slick sound we created had my head swimming. It was too much, too fast. But this time, I wanted it. '. . .'M close Coop.' I whimpered.

'Me too, honey. Real fuckin' close.' He panted, voiced muffled as he kissed and sucked at my neck, hands fisting my hair and squeezing my breast. His thrusts began faltering as we both approached climax. 'Fuck, feel so good.' He cursed, groaning the words in my ear as our bodies rocked together, moving in sync. I was aflame, the pulsing in my body acting the accessory to his own members pulsing inside me. My eyes screwed shut, he felt so fucking good it was a simple reflex.

He kissed his way along my throat, pulling on my hair to angle my jaw for him, his lips trailing along it's sharps points, then up my cheek, settling in my lips. 'Look at me.' He breathed.

I wanted to listen to him, but my eyes did not. The pleasure was to much, the wall inside me so near collapsing-

'Look at me, sweetheart.' He ordered again, his voice sharper this time.

Having no other option I forced myself to open them. But it was worth it, listening to Cooper always was.

'Good girl.' He praised, his lips colliding with mine. And that wall burst, his words being the final battering ram. Tidal waves of pleasure rolled through me, roiling like crashing waves inside me. 'Love you, sweetheart.' He moaned.

No words would ever spur me on like those ones did, my uterus was quaking with every act of him. 'Say it again.' I pleaded.

'I love you' he whimpered. . . Whimpered. Strong and dangerous as he was, he whimpered as he came inside me. His rocking thrust strained as he continuing rutting into me, doing his best to lead us through our orgasms.

'Good boy, Coop. Again. . . Please.' I begged.

And he listened, repeating the words "I love you" against my lips, his voice pitching and breaking from the sheer pleasure he was submitted to. And when moving to softly nip at my ear, he whimpered those same three words in my ear over and over again until I felt a wetness on my cheeks–tears, I realised. He was overstimulating himself, crying as he made love to me. 'Fuck-' he shuddered the word, the slickness he'd created only coaxing more sounds out of him. 'Love you real fuckin' hard, darlin'. . .' He cried again. And I could've reached a second orgasm from that alone.

'I love you too Coop, love you so much. Youre so good to me.' I reassured him, my own voice near a cry as he was putting me through the ringer in the process. Finally, he began slowing down, his entire body shuddering from the way my insides clenched around him, milking the juies out of him. He kissed me one final time, then pulled out and collapsed beside me.

I had to take a moment to collect myself before turning to face him, my hand reaching up to brush the wetness from his cheeks.

His eyes met mine, both full of unconditional love. We laid like that for some time, loosing ourselves in eachothers gazes as we regarded one another in silent contemplation. All the while I could feel his seed leaking out of my core. 'You're a good man, Cooper Howard.' I whispered.

'I do what I can to deserve ya', sweetheart. The day I'm anythin' else but good to you-' He began. But I stopped him, not wanting his thoughts to walk down that road.

'You'll never be anything but good, Coop.' I inclined my head, kissing him softly before I nuzzled my head into the crook of his neck. 'Don't forget it.' My voice a murmur against his strong neck as I slowly drifted off to sleep within the safety of his embrace.

♪ We'll meet again

Hand in hand, our gazes stay on the halls infront of us as we walk back the way we came.

♪ Don't know where, don't know when

My eyes were on the sand as we left, attempting to distract myself by studying the way the the kernels dent beneath my weight. But with a deep breath, I stop and raise my pip-boy clad arm, looking back toward the falling night, toward the empty timecapsule.

♪ But I know We'll meet some sunny day

The words once again faint as they stab through the howling wind. I turn a kog on the pip-boy, and the vault door rolls into motion. The world around us painted in red-pinkish hues as the door's mechanics shut in the echoing vocals completley, the entrance closing with a heavy, reverberating grating sound.

I can feel my heart thudding hard, beating with a sadness and re found happiness. Revisiting my old home had given me melancholy and a new love. 'You coming?' The voice was soft, considering–unwilling to leave my mind wandering through old, lonely thoughts.

'Let's go.' I murmured, my eyes still on the weathered number 33 as the wind whipped at my cheeks.

'Look at me, sweetheart.' my love drawled, gathering my attention, and I redirect my gaze to his. 'We'll come back.'

I nod. 'We will.' A faint smile make its way to my lips as I stood on my toes to place a kiss on his lips.

Then, with his hand in mine, we wandered the wasteland. Searching for better luck–a better life.

#fallout #fallout imagine #fallout smut #fallout fanfic #cooper howard smut #cooper howard #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x female reader #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard fanfic #cooper howard imagine #the ghoul smut #fallout x reader #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul imagine

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jeonghantis · 1 year

Text

✧ — HEAVEN ANGEL (y.jh)

PAIRING ⇝ yoon jeonghan x reader.

SUMMARY ⇝

beautiful, everyone had called you. the compliment lost its charm on you, knowing fully well it��s paid only for the surface-level appearance you kept up and nothing else you had to offer. irritating, he had called you. you let him fuck you.

TAGS ⇝ uni!au, fratboy!jeonghan, fwb, smut, a dash of angst (oopsy!).

WARNINGS ⇝ language, fem!reader (she/her), houseparty scene (not exactly detailed), gossip, explicit sexual content (MINORS DNI!), bathroom (mirror) sex, unrequited crush (or is it?), reader has commitment issues, reader is kinda mean, mentions of p*ss and sh*t but not in a sexual manner, just for jokes.

WORD COUNT ⇝ 4.1k words.

note: funnily enough, i had two requests specifically for house party sex with yoon jeonghan. i lost the ask for them both (accidentally deleted while my laptop glitched). i am insane. and before anyone asks, yes there'll be a part two/prequel :) and also this is somewhat connected to my upcoming cheol fic. so i hope you stay tuned! proofread by the star of my life @cheolhub. sar fr put up with every version and my constant anxiety over every paragraph. i couldn't have done it without them. i love u so much. @szakias was also helpful in keeping me sane as i wrote this out 🙇 i love u so bad. loosely based on the song heaven angel by the driver era. don't think it'd go with the fic but you know :)

reblogs & comments are very much appreciated.

explicit tags under the cut.

EXPLICIT TAGS ⇝ semi-public setting (bathroom sex while there's a party), unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, mean dom!jeonghan, sub!reader, dumbification, teasing, petnames (angel), degradation (whore, bitch), dacryphilia, marking, briefest thigh-fucking, clit stimulation, cumming inside, squirting, light overstimulation, (a little) aftercare.

A strange rumor went around the campus. A rumor of a person whose beauty was so out of this world that it was terrifying.

Unreal. Everyone had said. You won’t be able to look her in the eyes!

But beyond that angelic beauty was a personality so sour, no one dared thought to approach her. Those that tried their luck had it beaten right out of them and they came to hate her to hide their broken hearts.

What a bitch, they had said. Does she think she’s all that?

Yoon Jeonghan, for one, thought they were being overly dramatic. It was a strange and interesting phenomenon how gossip can evolve to add in such theatrics. It was like living in one of those regency novels his sister owned which he had perused over on one particularly boring day. Had these people really had nothing better to do with their lives? Were they trying to live in a novel of their own? Jeonghan never understood them, neither cared for these kinds of things. He’d much rather form his opinions. He had better things to do than to dabble in such frivolity.

What a stuck-up, one would say. What better things could Jeonghan be doing that puts him above everyone else?

Oh, fucking the subject of the rumors of course.

“How irritating,” Jeonghan sighed, abruptly ceasing his thrusts inside you to harshly yank you back by your hair.

You yelp, a deer in the headlights, when your neck is forcibly craned back, made to look up at his looming figure. You looked pathetic from where you were pinned against the wall, exposed breasts pressed flush against the cool tiles and your mini skirt flipped upwards to reveal the swell of your bare ass flattened against his hip bone.

“I said to keep your voice down,” he tuts. “Do you want the whole house to hear you?”

“I’m s-sorry,” you stammer out, throat raw and chest heaving.

“Are you?” He mused with a raised brow, mocking and unbelieving.

You couldn’t meet his gaze, or at least you tried to. Jeonghan liked to make eye contact, he once told you, for he loved to see your sanity visibly ebb away from your eyes, leaving you a mindless, glassy-eyed whore. You had not reached that stage, not yet, not when some semblance of your being remained clear in your gaze, dilated pupils fearfully wavering back and forth between his simpering face and the bathroom door where a rather large, booming frat party laid beyond.

He cocked his head to the side and tightened his grip on your hair, forcing your eyes back on him. He leaned forward until he’s breathing your air, and all you could do is stare up at him pitifully with quivering lips. “Or…” he starts, his lips twisting cruelly. “Do you want them to hear you? Want them hear how good you’re being fucked right now?”

You remain silent, the lump on your throat bobbing as you swallow hard. But your walls tighten around him and Jeonghan couldn’t help the curve of his lips.

“You’re really weird, you know that?” Jeonghan sighed, releasing his hold on you. A lithe finger curls a lock behind your ear, the gesture jarringly affectionate from his prior cruelty, before his mouth moves to hover over it, his warm breath tickling. “You moan loudly when I tell you to shut up. You shut up when I ask you questions. Have I fucked you stupid already? Or have you always been stupid?”

You let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Is that all you know what to say?” Jeonghan laughs. “A renowned bitch, known to reject her admirers without so much of a second thought, now reduced into this pathetic bitch in heat. What would everyone else think, hm?”

His derogatory spats clamored down to your bones, making you shake with emotions that you couldn’t quite place with your hazed mind. At one point, with the last bit of pride you had left, you’re irritated, and it’s shown in the twitch of your eye and narrowed gaze. Then there’s embarrassment, shown by how your face warms and flushes. There was no denying how fucking dazed and desperate you had been, that much was true, and the demeaning tone of his voice did its job of filling you with shame. The twisted part of it all is that you enjoyed every minute of this ridicule thanks to pure, carnal desire. You couldn’t care less about what other people would say about you, what matters now is when the fuck would Jeonghan move his dick inside you.

But Jeonghan being Jeonghan, he wanted his answers. His last question was rhetoric. You knew. He knew. And yet he looks down at you with cruel expectancy masked in the sweetest, angelic smile that has fooled so many, and had once fooled you.

“I-I don’t care,” you say, deciding to be honest. “Who the fuck cares what they think?”

“Oh, but I’d like to know,” Jeonghan said. He hums for a moment, looking you over in consideration, before speaking again. “But you’re right. They don’t matter right now, do they?”

You release a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

And Jeonghan watched, amused. He wasn’t done speaking. “But I’d at least like to know what you think.”

You blinked. “What?”

Before you could question him some more, Jeonghan pulls out of you, leaving your weeping cunt fluttering around nothing. You cry out, high and broken, from having pleasure ripped away with such cruelty. Jeonghan ignores it and his own throbbing problem as he goes to peel you off the wall with a rough tug on your arm. He has you by over the sink, has you staring at yourself through the vanity mirror. Jeonghan casts a smile at you through the reflection, his gaze weighted as he drinks in the sight of you as well.

Jeonghan had to admit, the rumors weren’t all baseless. You were stunningly beautiful, there was no denying that when anyone with functioning eyes could see it. The way you carried yourself tells him you’re well aware of it too. You held confidence with a raised chin, an allure with your own posture and stance even in this vulnerable position you were forced in, looking as disheveled as you are with tufts of your hair sticking out in every direction, framing your flushed face. Your blouse had been carefully unbuttoned despite how desperately urgent you both had been for each other the moment the bathroom door shut closed, but the rush was evident in how your bralette had been roughly tugged down enough for your perked breasts to spill over. Jeonghan had been anything but kind to your skin, having left angry red splotches blossoming all over your chest; you weren’t either on his, knowing if Jeonghan had craned his neck enough from behind you, they’d find similar markings on his throat, though considerably less in quantity.

Jeonghan also looked considerably less damning. He had not made moves to remove any of his upper clothing and so he remained presentable with his black varsity over a loose white shirt. Even his long hair had not looked loosened from where it’s tied up. But below, away from the mirror’s sight, his dark jeans had been unbuttoned and unzipped for his curved dick to spring out freely, for it now to rub over your ass teasingly.

“So?” Jeonghan asks. “What do you think of yourself?”

You glare at him through the mirror. “Fucking awful.”

“Of course you’d see it that way,” he laughs, resting his chin on your shoulder. “For me, I think this is the most beautiful you’ve ever been.”

It’s your turn to look unbelieving, but your pulse rouses.

Jeonghan grinned. “Ask me why.”

You reluctantly indulge him, “Why?”

“Because you finally look fucking awful,” Jeonghan said cheerfully. You turn to glower at him but stop when he lifts a hand to trace a line over your chest, mapping out the marks adorning you with a nimble finger. “And because I’m the reason for it.”

“A little vain, don’t you think?” You remark, albeit breathily, your face heated.

“I can be proud of my work,” he quipped, pressing his smile against your skin. He looks you over once more, taking in every detail down to the last freckle, and something deep in him thrums sweetly. “And I had a beautiful canvas to begin with.”

“How charming,” you sighed, derisive, as you threw your head back against his shoulder so you could look at him with batting lashes. “Can you fuck me now?”

“But I mean it,” Jeonghan murmured and relented, reaching around you so he could press a roughened finger over your swollen clit.

“Mean what?” You ask, but you’re barely listening, not when your focus is narrowed to the deft circles he’s making on your sweet nerves.

Jeonghan guides his length between your thighs, letting it glide languidly right under your weeping and throbbing cunt at a lazy pace. His lips are still curled, his eyes bright when he gazes down at you before he’s responding, “You’re absolutely beautiful.”

Sincerity was not something you’re used to when it came to the ever sarcastic Yoon Jeonghan, and yet here it was, bleeding into his tone in its purest form. Never in the entire three months of sleeping with him had he ever complimented the way he had just now, and if he had uttered any, it was quickly followed with ridicule or said with ridicule.

Good, he called you when you were obedient.

Cute, he called you when you were crying.

Beautiful. It was new. From him at least.

It was a temporary moment of clarity in your lust-addled head as you blink at him, making sense of what he had said, making sense of the warmth that starts to bloom throughout your chest. And temporary it remained as Jeonghan led his cockhead right back to your entrance, pushing himself in without so much of a warning, and the bare grasp you had on lucidity loosened.

You gasp out loudly, doubling over the bathroom counter as your walls tense and quiver painfully from the sudden breach, but still yield around him nonetheless. Jeonghan was quick to catch you, to force you right back up with his long fingers encircling your throat.

“Again?” Jeonghan barked out a laugh but it’s hoarse. “You really want everyone to hear you.”

“I c-can’t help it,” you whined, your head resting weakly against his shoulder, warm breath puffing over his marred skin.

Jeonghan looked unimpressed. “Well, help it.”

“Oh, fuck!” you cry out when he starts driving into you with no sense of leniency, your body thrown fully forward and voice shaking from the repeated impact that clatters your bones.

“You’re horrible at this,” he cackled. He grips at your hips this time, pulling you hard against him, balls slapping heavily against your ass. He's practically pulling and pushing your cunt onto his cock as if you weighed nothing, as if you were nothing but a cocksleeve for him to enjoy. Each decadent slide of his length in your heat draws out breathy grunts from him, his head drunk with pleasure.

You weren’t faring any better. Your head is thrown back to reveal flushed skin stained with tears that drip from closed eyes as you try desperately to hold yourself up with palms flat against the cold marble counter. There was nothing else for you to do but feel it, feel his cock stretch your pussy, its silken insides practically making way for him with each piston that has you crying out more in volume and pitch.

“Open your eyes.” His hot, staggered breath wafted over your ear. His thrusts ease its pace, slowing into something more languorous and teasing. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

You whine but your eyelids flutter open. Glassy, unfocused eyes find Jeonghan.

A devious smile splinters across his face.

There you are.

“Please,” you whimper, your hand reaching to paw at his nape.

“What is it, angel?” His tone is sweet but it rolls off his tongue sharply. “I n-need - ”

Jeonghan laughed cruelly. “I don’t think you’re in the position to demand something from me when you can’t even listen to my one demand.”

You grab at the ends of his hair and rock your hips back into him, fucking your cunt right on his dick in a faster, but struggling, rhythm.

“Hannie,” you mewl. “You feel too good. Please, please, just fuck me. I can’t help it, I just - Please? I’ll b-be good. Just please fuck me, Hannie.”

Jeonghan doesn’t respond right away to your pleas, allowing himself to revel in the broken desperation you display with an amused smile and delighted throbs made inside your velvety walls. Perhaps Jeonghan should be used to this sight now. He’s seen you in much messier and miserable states, ruined you far worse than he had now. And yet he’s plenty invigorated than he’s ever been, pure excitement searing his veins.

What would everyone else think, hm?

Jeonghan thought it was rhetoric. Jeonghan said it didn’t matter.

It wasn’t. It did.

“I don’t think you can be good,” he began as a hand inches forward between your legs, “But if you’re going to be loud, then at least use my name. That way, everyone will know who’s fucking you so good.”

“H-Hannie!” You mewl, oh so pitchy, as your frame jerks from the brush of the roughened pads of his fingers on your clit, pleasure flickering up your abdomen so wildly that you could not easily bear through it.

“There we go,” he crooned, pride gleaming in his eyes. Jeonghan was much too familiar with your body by now, so it’s easy when his hips brings back its pace, fucking at your insides at an angle so the length of him glides over your sweet nerves with each impact.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you sob out like a mantra, spreading your legs a little wider to accommodate his brutality, your channel tightening around his throbbing girth. “Ngh, Jeonghan, right there! Oh my god - !”

The nectar that leaks out of you coated his shaft with an amazingly significant amount that makes the slides so much easier and louder, the wet noises bouncing off the four walls and meshing with your own cries of his name like he wanted. It was almost enough to drown out the muffled music of the party that seemed many worlds away now.

Jeonghan soon enough joined in this sinful chorus, letting out panted moans of his own. Some were incoherent but when it wasn’t, it was mostly your name, just in case everyone couldn’t tell who was screaming his name like a wailing prayer. How he’s managed to keep himself restrained and sane for this long was a strong feat in itself. Your everything put him in a trance, every touch of you—nails, fingers, and obviously your tight cunt, was a little too much, it was dizzying.

Even at your seemingly waning state, your hips somehow finds itself moving back against him, undulating with the same force and rhythm. You’re driven by the tightness both in your chest and in your abdomen, white flashing across your vision the more you keep up your pace, your moan becoming more muddled as your thoughts were. And when balance fails you, having you bow back down and lean all your weight on your forearm, Jeonghan inclines with you, his chest pressed right against your back and you could feel his raging heartbeat that very well matched your own.

“How are you holding up, angel?” He chuckled and pressed his face against your neck, his breathing hard and warm on your skin, as his thrusts become more shallow. “Doing okay?”

“I-I’m close,” you whimper. “Please, Hannie - ”

“I’ve got you,” he whispered back as nails dig crescents on your waist, muscles flexing as the intensity of his strokes inside you extends once again and remains at the same tempo. He doesn’t know what came over him the next moment, his senses just completely overtaken and all he could do was be at awe at all this perfect bliss you’re bringing him, and only him. “You’re mine tonight,” he breathed. “I’m going to fucking ruin you for everyone, angel, you understand that? You’re mine.”

There it was again. The clarity. The warmth. It all happened in a single moment.

You turn your head and stare up at him. Jeonghan stared right back at you. A completely indecipherable expression confronts another.

Where it had been temporary then, it intensified now. Where there had been questions, suspicions took its place.

Then came fear.

Jeonghan catches a glimpse of it in your eyes and for the very first time, his stomach sank at the sight of it.

But his facade is flawless. It comes too naturally before he’s fully aware—a sweet curl of lip, the faintest crinkle at the corners of his eyes. He’s fooled too many. He could fool you again.

Jeonghan takes advantage of your moment of daze to toy once again with your clit, and is relieved at how immediate your body reacts.

“Ngh, J-Jeonghan!” You keen high as you reach a hand to cup over to where his fingers flicks and pinches at the delicate bud, pressing down on him for added pressure to alleviate your own self. Oh, how embarrassingly easy it was for your thoughts to be completely overwritten by your own lustful desires, but as you have learned, it always prevails, doesn’t it?

Your thighs seize up from the overwhelming pleasure crawling up your spine; while your rhythm falters from it, Jeonghan’s is relentless even when his own breathing turned ragged and his body strained from the effort. It all becomes so much so fast; the feverish heat spreads under your skin, tightening up coils in your abdomen, but your frame is trembling, as if a chill settled so deeply into your bones.

“Hannie, Hannie, I’m going to -”

“I know,” Jeonghan grunts as his face falls in the juncture of your neck, lips pressed right over your pulse point. He can feel your walls start to restrict around his twitching girth, and it did little to aid his own self-control. “Let go for me, angel. C’mon. Let me hear you. Let them hear you.”

And you do. With the most shrilling wail, you come, your warm release spilling onto his cock and, much to your surprise, squirting onto themselves, their clothes, and his hand.

“Holy shit,” Jeonghan marveled under his breath. If he could burn a memory into his brain, this would be fucking it. Just you shivering and quivering around his dick. Your back prettily arched back with tits hardened and perked. The fluids spurting all over yourself and him so shamelessly and so intensely until you're convulsing back down on your front from it all.

Watching this whole brilliance of you, just reminded Jeonghan of how lucky he truly was to have you like this, to be able to make you this fucked out with crossed eyes, pupils blown wide out of proportion. Hidden concerns were washed away by this single glance, replaced with nothing but gratitude, pride, and true bliss. And with all that and a poorly thrown out warning, he’s thrown over the edge. A moan is punched out of his gut as he’s releasing inside you with one last valiant thrust, his cum white and hot as it spurts and paints your walls.

And poor you having to tolerate this continued abuse of your insides that pushes you close into the sphere of overstimulation. You’re spent, fatigue already ebbing into your consciousness, but you stay still for him, letting him use you for all your worth until the last few twitches of cock, until the last few spews of his cum is fucked back into you.

For the next few moments, only a dulled bass fills the air as two heaving bodies try to steady themselves. When the remnants of carnality wane, Jeonghan finally pulls out of you, your channel left with nothing but their shared release dripping out of you, beading down your legs. There’s a crack of a smile thrown your way through the reflection just as you feel a light tap made over your cunt. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the gesture. And to rock back into it.

“If I clean you up,” Jeonghan began, eyeing the puddle on the floor, “could you help me with the rest of your mess?”

Now you did roll your eyes. “Ever the gentleman.”

“Hey, I just thought I should ask. It’s a lot.”

Your face warmed up. “Forget it, I’ll clean myself up. You clean the floor.” You move to lift yourself up from the counter, but catch yourself as your muscles start to strain, limbs shaking.

Jeonghan raised a brow.

You winced. “Can you help me over to the toilet?”

“Need to piss it all out again?” He jests and takes a hold of your arm to gently pick you up.

You sneered. “That wasn’t piss, asshat.”

Jeonghan laughed. “I know it wasn’t. But it was hot as hell.”

“Shut the hell up.”

That only made him laugh again.

Then came a knock, a very aggressive one.

“Yoon Jeonghan, are you done fucking in there?” Said a male voice beyond the door, sounding just as irritated as his knock was.

“Ah, damn,” Jeonghan muttered quietly to himself, then raised his voice at the door, “There are other bathrooms, Cheol!”

Choi Seungcheol, you now recognized Jeonghan’s fellow frat brother, responded right away. “All occupied! Can you hurry your shit up?”

“No!” said Jeonghan, but he’s quick to guide you over next to the toilet with an arm now encircling your waist; you tell yourself this was just a helpful gesture, but there’s no helping how your skin heats up under his touch. From where you stand leaning against the wall, you watch him rush around the bathroom, first cleaning himself up and shoving his dick back in his jeans before he throws a clean towel down on the floor to soak up your mess.

“I’ll leave first,” Jeonghan explained as he sauntered back to you with soap and another fresh towel in hand, setting them down where it’s within your reach. “I’ll appease Cheol first and buy you some time to clean up.”

“Is he always so impatient?” You asked.

“Always,” he sighed, “but once I explain, he’ll understand. I don’t know why he’s fussier than usual though.”

“Maybe he needs to shit.”

“Shitting at a party? That’s disgusting of him.”

“He has no respect for the partygoers out there.”

You exchange grins with each other.

Then another round of knocking came around.

“In a minute!” Jeonghan called back, trying to sound calm but his face was scowling. He lowers his voice when he speaks to you again, “Are you sure you don’t want any help? Now I just want to make him wait.”

“Go,” you tell him and wave him off. “He sounds like he’s about to kick the door open. I’d rather not have that.”

Jeonghan huffed a laugh at that. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Jeonghan turned to leave. Your heart lurched from your chest.

“Jeonghan?” You call out before you could stop yourself.

He looked back. “Hm?”

“Do we…” You didn’t know what to say, how to phrase it. “Should we talk about it?”

It was miniscule, but you caught his wince. “Talk about what?”

“About what you said?”

“Angel, I said a lot of things.”

“Don’t play stupid with me. You said - ”

Another loud knock, quickly followed by Seungcheol yelling. “Jeonghan! Hurry up!”

Jeonghan let out another sigh, a mix of annoyance with a tinge of relief. “We’ll have to talk about it another time.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Jeonghan - ”

“We will talk about it,” he said firmly, his tone spoke of sincerity, but his face said otherwise. “Just not now. Not yet.”

You gave him a skeptical look.

He tried for a smile, perfectly saccharine. You saw right through it.

“Fine,” you relented.

Jeonghan gave you a grateful nod of his head and made a move to leave again. You watch again with the strangest restriction in your chest.

“Cheol, you have got to learn patience,” Jeonghan said once he cracked the door open.

“And you have got to learn to be quiet,” the disembodied voice of Seungcheol parried back. “I’m sure the people passing the hallway could hear you both.”

“Well, we were trying to get the whole house to hear us.” Jeonghan spared a quick glance your way and grinned. You wanted to punch his teeth in.

Seungcheol groaned. “Of course you fucking were.”

Jeonghan laughed and finally stepped out of the bathroom. “At least I’m getting my dick wet. You haven’t been with anyone since - Oh, I spoke too soon. Cheol, you sneaky son of a - ”

The door shut closed behind him, leaving you all alone, and you buried your face in your hands.

#seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan smut #jeonghan fanfic #keir.rqst

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milky-aeons · 3 months

Text

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆

౨ৎ . . . in which a man with no reason to live finds an unlikely one through the tribulations of being a father.

warnings: emotional dysregulation, slight angst, unplanned pregnancy, alcohol consumption, poor parenting (in the beginning), conflict, suicidal ideation, depression, depictions of birth, female reader, healing, w.c 2.4k

♪ . . . ˗ˏˋ ꒰ dancing on my own — vitamin string quartet ꒱ ˎˊ-

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who wasn't ready to be a mother. Not now, perhaps not ever — was a rule you had laid in stone for yourself as a free-spirit intent on enjoying life to its fullest. It was why the world had tuned out into white noise when Yosano Akiko held the small test in her hand and spoke those terrifying words. With a shutter of sympathy in her eyes, coming to place a hand on your shoulder to give it a firm, comforting squeeze. She knew just as well how much you didn't want this to be true. Her touch felt condemning. You felt like you were going to vomit, just like you had been for the last four mornings in a row. Because how were you going to tell him?

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who didn't blink, didn't draw breath, didn't do anything when you let the words stumble from your mouth in one panicked rush. It was a bright afternoon deep into summer and the Agency's café was quiet — private enough for the two of you to have this conversation. You and Dazai Osamu — you were not an item, had been content to have casual shared nights together when either of you wanted to blow off a little steam. But that night, you had said to him, do you remember that night? When we were both drunk and stupid, so stupid?

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who, in that moment, decided not to grace you with any words. Instead, he did something far more uncharacteristic of him; he stayed quiet. He gave one shallow nod of his head and placed a hand softly onto the table so he could stand up. To steady himself, to ground himself back down when you had turned his world completely overhead, you did not know. And Dazai, who left you there, excusing himself in order to get some fresh air. The raking bastard that he was. Not once did he turn back to look you directly in the eye. Not even when you stood up, shouted his name, screamed at him, until tears spilled over your cheeks and your throat burned with the pain.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who saw life through a lens of grey in the couple of days following. Sometimes, you would feel so heavy that you did not wish to rise out of bed. The word swam around in your head like the song of a haunting ghoul — a mom, a mom, I am going to be a mom. Yosano would drop by your Agency apartment after work to see how you were doing, feeling your forehead, bringing you remedies to help with the nausea that roiled in your stomach. Every time, you would resist the temptation to ask where he was. And yet every time, Yosano would still tell you;

"He didn't come to work today, either."

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who slowly came to grips with the fact that this was how it was going to be. The initial shock of it all was as relentless as it was condemning, but it was not infinite. The sun rose the next day, and the next, the world kept moving and you decided that you would have to, as well. That there was a little life growing inside your warm belly that needed a mother, no matter how unprepared you were for that fact. And, if you could do something about it, needed their father. You were not letting him just walk away from you, from the both of you, that easily.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who was exactly where you thought he would be when you set out that evening to find him. Of course, if he wanted to, Dazai Osamu had both the cleverness and the connections to absolutely disappear from the streets of Yokohama without a trace. If he wanted to, he could have abandoned you and this baby completely. But he didn't. Instead, he was here, laying sprawled long and lazy on his messy, unmade futon in his messy, unclean house, as if waiting to be found. When he heard you pass over the threshold of the door he didn't lock, he gave you a long, languid smile.

"My bewitching Beeella~! At looong last, she has come to tempt me!" He slurred his speech, bringing your attention to the heavy scent in the air and the dozen or so bottles strewn about haphazardly. His hair was matted and unwashed. He looked just like you, curled in your bed, refusing to move for days. But unlike you, he was completely and utterly intoxicated. "You look awful." You said in a low voice. Hurt at how he abandoned you in the coffee shop was still a fresh, gaping wound. As if his head was too heavy, Dazai let it flop back down onto the cushions. He waved his hands about. "And you... look just as beautiful... as always. But—It is a trap...! A ruuuuse! A beautiful Bellaaa, sent from my torment... to tie me to this mortal coil!"

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who let him ramble his litany of incoherencies. If only for a few merciful seconds. When you felt like you had had enough, or perhaps fearful with how far he'd take it, you kicked one of the empty glass bottles. It skirted across his floorboards and hit a neighbouring wall, exploding into countless little shards. He looked up then, attracted to the noise, trying to focus on you with his glazed whiskey-coloured eyes. In that moment, you stood your tallest, and just like the bottle you mustered up every last shred of yourself until you built it all back together.

"You." You pointed at him, feeling your voice come on thick, but strong. "You listen to me and listen to me well, I'm only going to say this once, and if you're too fucking drunk to remember it, then more is the pity. But I'm carrying your baby—our god damn baby. And if you're not going to step up and be the father they're going to need, then I'll be that for you. Just say the word, Dazai. Say the word and I'll leave. You'll never hear from me or this child ever again."

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who said nothing in contest to that statement, but also said nothing to affirm it, either. His wide, unfocused eyes studied every feature on your face, trying to make sense of something you didn't know. And for a second, your heartrate kicked up. Because somewhere deep down inside, you wanted him to tell you to stay. You wanted him to sober up, to wear that charming, all-endearing smile and convince you that everything was going to be alright. But he didn't. And that was the moment you deflated with a sigh — laying out all the feelings you once had for him on the floor, ready to cast it to the wind. You had made it to his doorway when two strong, heavy arms came around you and all of his weight collapsed against your shoulders.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who buried his head into the crook of your neck, who's hair tickled your face and made your eyes sting with tears. He, who smelled of whiskey and liqueur, but in that moment, held you so tight, crushed you against his taller frame and croaked;

"Stay."

"Please... just, stay."

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who seemed like he had undergone a transformation overnight. He always did have a strange knack for that — changing his persona so easily, crafting masks and façades. And maybe it was just that, at least in the beginning. But he had started to come back to work, again. You would enter the familiar doors early in the mornings to the tell-tale sounds of his teasing tone and Kunikida's threats. When you would walk in, he'd straighten up from whatever headlock the blond had trapped him into, and catch your eye.

"Good morning." You would whisper. "Good morning, beautiful Bella." He would murmur right back.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who became used to the weight in your tummy growing heavier each day. It was Atsushi, at first, who recognised the shift in your scent and the sound of a little heartbeat in your belly through his superior feline hearing. Soon after, everyone in the Agency were offering you gifts and well wishes. Dazai received a less warm ovation. Especially from Kunikida, who threatened to flush him into the drainage system if he even thought about being one of those shitty laid-back dads who let the mom do all the work.

"That's cruel, Kunikida-kun!" Dazai whined at him. "To think of the rigid, torturous lifestyle your children will have to endure!" He just barely dodged the office chair that was hurled at his head.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who, after a short while, began to let Dazai close to you again. And maybe it was foolish of you, to let that thing which always existed between you two take spark and kindle with new life. First, it was sitting together in the same booth in the coffee shop. Then, it was gentle, quiet touches — his hand brushing your back as he walked past, your fingers twining together underneath the desk where no one could see. He stole you away for long walks in the nearby park when you should have been working. To your protests, he'd pout, and say, but a pregnant lady needs to enjoy as much rest as she can~! And then, he'd kiss you. Underneath the great spurting fountain at the centre of the park. Long and sweet and promising.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who one time, when you were especially close to your due date and he was feeling especially silly, drew a large smiley face on your swollen belly. Or peppered a shower of kisses along the stretched skin, telling you she was taking too long, that he couldn't wait any longer and had too many kisses saved up for her, already. And on that day where you did go into labour, he held your hand, he placed those lips on your forehead and whispered gentle encouragements as you screamed through the pain.

"You are strong, my beautiful [Name]. Come on, can you give one more push? Just one more." "You're doing so great. You are so unbelievable, so resilient and brave. My beautiful Belladonna, that's it. You can do it."

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who, along with the chorus of elated cries from the Armed Detective Agents, made a sound of disbelief when his baby girl came into the world. Slick and wet, red and crying, but beautiful. A copy of her mother's features but with a wild head of curly brown hair. An emotion Dazai had not felt in an extremely long time crept up the back of his throat. It made him laugh, it made his eyes smart with tears. And when he came to your side to see your baby be placed onto your bare chest, a single tear escaped from the side of his eye and got lost when he buried his head into your hair.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who never thought he would ever grow attached to someone. There was you, of course, but if he sat with the discomfort of viewing his life without you in it, it could be done. But trying to see his life without her — his little baby girl — his mind would simply draw a blank. It was unbearable, impossible. Before long, Dazai had insisted you move into his apartment so he could be closer to you. After, of course, you threatened him to scrub the entire place from head-to-toe and remove anything non-child friendly in a black plastic bag. And he did. He used those nimble, clever hands to build the baby a little wooden crib. He would rock her to sleep and place her down, only to watch her for minutes, hours, contemplating how in the world he was ever bestowed with such a blessing.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who sang lullabies to her. Who sang at every given chance he had. For he was such a lovely singer, his soft, velvety voice would be a common thing amongst the walls of your little apartment. Who would sit down with the toddler and teach her all the words he knew.

"Can you say 'Kunikida' my little star?" "Kuni—Kuni—Kooni—!" "Kun—ee—kee—dah!" On the 'dah', he'd pinch her nose. "Kun—eeeee—keeeee—dah!" "Wow~!" Dazai pinched her nose again and she giggled. "Darling, did you hear that? Our little star is a genius." "She takes after her father." You would say from around the bend of the kitchen. Praises and chuckles and the shrieks of a delighted baby would fill the air. Dazai would then drop his voice, thinking you wouldn't hear, and say, "Now, can you say, 'is a bore!'" "Dazai!"

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who always took his little girl to work with him. Everyone in the Agency fell in love with her very quickly. Atsushi would transform his hands into that of giant tiger paws, pretending to growl, letting her pull at the little tufts even though it hurt him just a tad. Ranpo would ask the little baby mind-numbing riddles, then laugh, proclaiming how she barely had any braincells, but not to worry, because when she's old enough, he'd take her as his apprentice. Kunikida, who would let her handle his little ideal book, and then hold back tears when she ripped one of the pages out of it. The little girl would hold the page up high and from her little perch on the table, shout,

"Kuneeekeeda... is... a boooore!"

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who was still laughing when he met you on the terrace roof of the Agency that night. He went straight for his little girl and held her up in the air, proclaiming that he was so proud of her. You would settle down together, just the three of you, huddled on the concrete tiles and watching the sun set over the skyline of Yokohama.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who would hold your daughter on your lap until her curly brown head of hair tilted into your shoulder and she snored softly. In that moment, you would crane your head onto Dazai's broad shoulder, and whisper;

"I'm glad I stayed."

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who would run his long fingers across his sleeping daughter's face softly, so softly, so as not to wake her. Then, he would reach up to you and cup the side of your cheek, captivating you, looking at you with an expression so warm and tender as he whispered right back;

"And I am forever grateful."

✎ . . . requested by the lovely @ringsofsaturnnnn!

WRITING REQUESTS

#bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai #dazai x reader #dazai bsd #bsd fanfiction #bsd fanfic #🎋 — writing requests #divider by benkeibear

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muntitled · 7 months

Text

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃: 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐳𝐢 𝐚𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲!?

Didn't anybody tell him being back in the booth will leave him singing solo?

Pairings: Lee Jihoon x Fem!reader | Slight!Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: A kink confession in couple's therapy might just save your relationship

Warnings: Established Relationship, Insecurities, Gender Roles, Slight!Toxic Relationship, Fluff, Slight Angst, Smut (+18 Minors DNI), Masturbation, Dom/Sub undertones, MeanDom!Jihoon, Sub!Reader, Innocence Kink, Slight DDLG, Ownership Kink, Hair Pulling, Spitting kink, Massive Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Slight Humiliation, Submission Kink, Dirty Talk, Grinding, Oral Sex (Male rec), Breeding Kink, Slight!Hate sex

Word Count: 3.9k

Song: Mine | Beyonce

Woops

"I'm aware that I'm on this mission to get my boyfriend to actually want to fuck me again but why does it feel like I've already failed on the very first step?" A whine so childish, and so petulant rips itself from the depths of your throat but Jihoon's running shower silences the pathetic noise.

While he showers, you're left sitting on the floor surrounded by a graveyard of designer lingerie. A too small Victoria's Secret set is immediately abandoned in its box, leaving you howling into the phone as you wriggle yourself into the complicated underwear.

Your confidence wanes as you adjust to the intricate bows and string of the set, wincing as you pull up the pink garter belt until it's clasped around your thighs. Soon enough, you're padding across the floor of your walk-in closet, hesitantly approaching a mirror.

"I mean, this says 'slut' but what if 'slut' isn't what he's attracted to?" Your hand curls tightly around the width of your phone, "Jihoon is an anomaly! What if I end up making a complete and utter fool of myself?" The mirror is nestled between Jihoon's clothing rack harbouring all his neatly pressed designer pieces. You let the sight of his intimidating fashion waver your already fragile confidence.

"Are you hearing yourself?" Scoffs Mingyu through your phone's speakers, "What man has ever in the history of the universe not been attracted to 'slutty'? I feel like that might be a prerequisite in terms of the origins of the word." He says in a lax, calm manner, "Woozi'll just be happy to see boobs and ass becuase that's usually how a guy's brain goes. Or how mine goes at least."

Despite Mingyu's assurances, your arms are still folded over your scantily covered breasts while you cradle your phone in the air. "I don't know," your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth. "You didn't hear him today at counseling, Mingyu. I feel like our therapist might actually hate us." You continue to cradle your torso, forcing yourself not to flinch at the memory of your earlier session of couples therapy.

How far away Jihoon had felt despite being seated right beside you, like a gleaming, stoic-faced monolith. You feel as though you have been living in nothing but a perpetual winter, forever trying to please Jihoon, your boyfriend, but always falling short in front of Woozi, the entertainer. Work, work, work, on his mind meant that you were left to entertain your own wants by your lonesome. Even more harrowig, is the excuse he had given your therapist.

"She's always in boss mode," Jihoon's tone was as cold as ice, refusing to spare you even a single glance as he faced the therapist ahead, "And that's one of things I love about her, yes. Her drive and determination makes us compatible because I know I'm the same-"

A scoff slips past your lips at that point, making Jihoon's fist clench on the arm rest as you snootily interjected, "Don't misconstrue." You said, "He works more than me," and it was the truth as far as you believed it. Yes, you would gladly admit to neglecting a few key elements of your relationship in the face of your career, but never had you ever made Jihoon feel microscopic in your pursuits. Not like how he made you feel.

"It's important to listen to each other without interjecting." The therapist calmly scolded, leaving you grumbling in your seat, "You'd be surprised at how much could truly be accomplished by simply listening to each other,"

You were truly ready to tell that old lady to go to hell but something strange happened, and Jihoon finally opened his mouth, unburdening himself with what has truly been bothering him in his relationships as of late.

"It's just," He swears lightly under his breath, which does a terrific job in garnering yout attention. You peek up from underneath your lashes and you're stunned to hear him say, "I just wish she'd understand that it wouldn't burn down the foundations of feminism if she'd just," Jihoon's jaw ticked as he displayed the very first signs of emotion, "-Just let me take that load off for a bit…"

"In what way?" The therapist asked, sensing the nearness of a eureka moment. She treaded carefully, in fear of scaring Jihoon back into his shell. Thankfully, he made himself clearer because by now, you needed to know as well.

"She's the boss in her day to day and I respect that," he says, "But all I'm saying is that it wouldn't hurt to leave all that shit at work..."

The therapist nodded with grave understanding, although even you could see the trepidation easing onto her face. There is no hiding the conflicting emotions displayed on your face.

"You're asking her to become more…" The therapist cleared their throat, "Submissive?" Jihoon had not responded after that, letting the pregnant silence act as his megaphone.

"I'm submissive," you had whispered, nodding as if trying to convince yourself of your words. "I'm like… so submissive," before you could decorate your lie with even more lies, Jihoon finally turned towards you.

"Really?" He asked, "Where?"

You let an incredulous chuckle escape from your throat as you shot back, "Where what?"

Jihoon did a show of looking around the therapist's clinical office, delving deep into his petty theatrics as he calmly, "Where are you being submissive, because it hasn't been with me?"

The session had ended with you wracking your brain at Jihoon's admittance of what you suspect to be a kink. His words haunted you on the silent drive home. They had piqued your interest considerably, filling the atmosphere with a tense warmth, as if a tempest was brewing. One that neither of you was quite aware of how to deal with yet.

It was a feeling that led you into the deepest confines of your closet, until you pulled out the Savage x Fenty lingerie box, immediately calling Mingyu in a fit of panic while Woozi was in the shower. He was, after all, your best friend way before you even knew of Lee Jihoon.

Ripping your arms away from your torso is a mission on its own, one you succeed with immense reluctance as you finally gaze at your reflection in all her half naked glory.

You commence a hesitant twirl in front of the floor to ceiling mirror.

Very hesitant.

The lace bralette is digging into your ribs, and the matching pink garters are cutting into the skin of your ample thighs. It is all so painfully uncomfortable that you're threatening to take it off, no matter how much of a wet dream you may look like.

But there is excitement there too, bubbling beneath the surface, awakened by Jihoon's confession. You are almost excited to try this with him. Submission, sexually, was never on your cards previously but maybe this is something you should have noticed long ago. You pride yourself on being observant so why didn't you notice it before?

The soft affirmations of "Say my name," while he was steadily bringing you to orgasm with his fingers alone. The unmistakable need to have his hand locked around your throat whenever he was on the verge of cumming.

Even the non sexual stuff.

Ordering for you. Making sure your hand was always locked inside his when you found yourselves wandering the city. Forcing you to pay with his card despite knowing you made more than enough to sustain your lifestyle.

How didn't you know?

Keeping a hesitant grip on your satin nightgown, you tilt your head at your reflection skeptically.

"Imagine how embarrassed I'll be if he just ignores me," The insides of your mouth is bleeding non stop from the way you've been gnawing at it, "Maybe I should just accept that work is the only love in Jihoon's life."

Mingyu's voice is diabolically soothing as it bleeds through your speakers, "No, no," he says, and you can imagine him swatting away at the air in the process "Jihoon acts like a prude but he's one of the biggest sluts- if not - the biggest slut I know."

"Besides yourself of course," you murmur,

"Besides myself of course" Eventually, Mingyu comes up with what he suspects is his big master plan.

"Perhaps you should send me a pic of you in it, that way when the little guy gets out of the shower and sees you, then you'll be far more relaxed in the knowledge that someone else has already seen you in it."

It truly was Neanderthal mathematics.

However, there is an underlying veneer in Mingyu's tone bleeding in through the phone's speakers that makes you believe your best friend is far from joking. Despite it infuriating Woozi to no end, Mingyu might never stop flirting with you ever. In respect of your dynamic.

"Surely, I shouldn't have to tell you that I'm not sending you a pic of me in my lingerie for you but I guess I have to put that into words you would understand maybe?" You hold up your fingers and clear your throat as you monotonously say, "how dare you," 'have you no shame, Mingyu," You ask, "Need I go on?"

In the midst of Mingyu's petulant whines urging you to just 'leave your man' Jihoon's shower silences, and you right your bad posture immediately. You suddenly have no idea what to do with the drawstring of the nightgown. Somehow, this seemed like the make it or break it moment. The moment where you would decide to dive headfirst into your plans of winning back your relationship despite the possibility of being met with Jihoon's hostility and coldness that you had grown so accustomed to.

The pool of dread and anxiety is deep, and your hands are nearly shaking as your fingers gloss over the lacy pink garment. "I have to go," you whisper into the receiver, vaguely aware that you've already clicked the button to sever the line before your sentence even ends. All while you awaited the footsteps from Jihoon. But they never came.

Courageously abandoning your fear for the sake of actually getting laid, you walk up to the door of your shared bathroom and knock hesitantly.

"Jihoon? Honey, are you okay?" But he is not okay, in fact, Jihoon might venture to believe he may never be okay because your voice is just so pretty, even when muffled by a closed door. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his forearm is leaning against the shower glass, and you just called him honey and fuck, if he didn't start tugging at his dick faster. He feels pathetic, having to get himself off when you were right there but the nuances and complexities of fighting with your partner introduced the need for such things.

Jihoon's jaw is locked tight as he succinctly and suspiciously responds with a rumbling and groaning "Fine." His brows are furrowed, and his teeth locked tightly together as he fights to get off easily and succinctly.

He hopes that you would take the hostility in his voice as a sign to make yourself scarce. Jihoon already fucked up when he let the 'submissive' thing slip but he cannot bear to imagine the utter humiliation he would be subjected to if you swung that door open right now, catching masturbating in the shower, as if he did not have a girlfriend able to meet those needs… It bruises him like nothing else could. He did not want you to see him like this. He did not want you to know that even in the midst of your fights, you were the only woman he ever really thought of.

His palm skates over his soaked cock as his mind is filled images of you on your knees in front of him, head tilted back and tongue sticking out like a-

"Good little slut," It was intended as a whisper to fuel the violent pool of heat bubbling in his abdomen and make him cum quicker. A whisper that you weren't supposed to hear but your ear is on the door now and you shout back,

"Did you say anything?"

He cannot reply because his cock is aching and heavy with the weight of his fantasy. A fantasy in which you were his to hold, his to fuck, his to cum inside of until you were completely and utterly full of his load-

"Fuck-"

He rushes to squeeze the base of his dick, edging himself even though he's not quite sure why. This had been his moment to just cum all over his hands, wash off his spilt seed and be done with it, but you're knocking much more fluidly on the door, and you're becoming impatient.

"Honey, you're scaring m-," You venture to say, despite already pushing the bathroom door open. You're both left momentarily stunned by what the other is seeing in front of them. He is left paralyzed by seeing you in so little clothing… and wearing pink.

While you did not anticipate seeing Jihoon naked in the shower. Why had you not anticipated that? That’s so silly. Your mouth hangs open with the shock of his beauty perhaps.

Has it truly been that long?

In the same breath, Jihoon's lungs are wiped clean as he stares at you through the glass. His breathing is heavy, ghosting over the glass while his broad chest rises and falls. He is nothing but darkened hooded eyes. Eyes that ravage the sight of you in your lacy pink underwear, underwear that he had not seen anywhere. Where did you get that? When did you get that? Myriad thoughts swirl in Jihoon's mind, each more sinister and lustful than the last because you look so completely innocent and so soft standing by the door, arms at your side while the dressing gown hangs lazily off of your shoulders.

After a moment of silence, Jihoon decides to stop this nonsense by leaning back slightly. His long black hair still dripping down the sides of his face and his tongue skates over his bottom lip as he says,

“We should not be this surprised to see each other naked,” He says, a deep voice ringing out through the acoustics of the bathroom, “We are a couple, last I checked.”

When you do not respond, he tilts his head downward, letting an even deeper shadow cast over his eyes as he scans you from head to toe. For an innumerable amount of minutes all is quiet. It feels as though the world had been rid of noise, like you had teleported back in time, to a Charlie Chaplin motion picture. A world of absolute silence.

You begin to wonder how you might respond because surely, you cannot stand here, gawking at him for the rest of your merry life.

Before you could even think of adding to the silence with anything, anything at all, Woozi keeps his ice cold gaze on you, as he leans his head against his forearm, the one still positioned against the shower glass and he resumes his movements of languidly stroking his thick cock buried in his tight fist.

Your mouth runs dry as your eyes betray you, finally venturing down to watch him. You seem to have forgotten just how beautiful your boyfriend truly was, taking in his damp locks kissing his shoulders. He is all solid lines with a sculpted torso and you feel as if you never even knew him at all.

"Jihoon," Your voice quivers with immense passion but he silences you immediately.

"Don't ruin this. Please don't-"

"I wanna help." His mouth snaps shut but he can feel himself twitch in his palm. Jihoon's breath grows hot as you step closer and closer and he squeezes his cock, as the overall scent of you forces its way through his nose and into his brain. You're so utterly addicting, Jihoon's hand strokes almost instinctively, his hips even venturing to push his cock into his palm as he follows your every movement.

"I want you to tell me what to do," You finally say, letting the silk gown fall to the floor as you step into the shower, lingerie and all. Jihoon's mind has completely descended into lechery while his hooded eyes watch you with nothing but adoration.

"Your knees." Is all he is able to force out, "I need you on your knees," He whispers an incredibly hoarse, "Please," that has you falling to his feet automatically. The movement immediately had Jihoon's reeling.

"Fuck," He whispers, the sound of complete awe rushing straight to your core as he finally let's all his inhibitions wilt away with the rest of his manners. Jihoon is quick to bury his fingers into your hair with a roughness you're surprised to see. Surprised but far from disappointed.

"Open your mouth," He instructs, despite already prying your mouth open with his thick fingers, forcing your teeth open as if you were his plaything all while craning your head backwards.

Once he gets your mouth open, Jihoon is insatiable. He immediately bends down and crashes his lips into yours, letting his tongue invade the inside of your mouth like his life depended on it. It's a manic, passionate and domineering kiss, neck that had you moaning into his open mouth as your tongue wrestled with his.

"I'm gonna fuck your mouth now, okay?" His tone however, lets you know that he is not asking, not really, but you nod anyway, unsure of who or what has come over you. All you're really sure of is that you want to make him feel good. The goal, the satisfaction of it is building so fantastically inside of you, pushing through your arteries, steadily soaking your panties with arousal and eliciting a slightly wayward kind of dizzying emotion inside of you all at once.

"Tell me," he says, and you're forced to crane your head back as he straightens his form. "Tell me to fuck your stupid little mouth. Tell me it's what you want." His jaw is locked tight as his hand once again encloses around his sensitive dick. He refuses to give you anything, however, unless he hears you submit to him fully and completely. He feels like he needs to hear the words. Some part deep in his monkey brain needs the confirmation from the source, as if hearing you say such nasty, horrible things would increase his already heightened arousal.

"Please, Fuck my mouth, Jihoon!" In any other instance you might have been shocked at the words flowing out of your mouth, but your cunt is absolutely dripping through the fabric and your hand immediately dives down to cup your pussy through your panties as you look up at him and say, "Please fuck my slutty little mouth, Jihoon! I fucking want you to, pleasepleaseplease-"

"Such a slut- such a pretty little slut-" you'd never heard Jihoon's voice crack the way it just did and you really wish to hear that beautiful sound again. His hand is once again in your hair while his other hand is on your jaw. He pushes a finger inside until he's flattening your tongue and craning your neck even further back. You're momentarily confused, trapped in a haze of stupid lust before Jihoon hovers above you and spits directly into your mouth.

You're moaning, and keening and Jihoon is already forcing his cock all the way inside your mouth.

"Your mouth-" His voice is hoarse as he eases his cock inside the warmth of your mouth. He cannot take his eyes off of you, his beautiful, brilliant girl taking his cock so far into your mouth while you had taken to humping your own hand like an insatiable little slut.

"Fuck baby," He murmurs, letting the tip of cock meet the very back of your throat before inching out again, "is my little girl really getting turned on from sucking cock?" His humiliation is punctuated by a sharp and powerful thrust, one that has you seeing stars and your vision blurring as you fight to keep him inside your mouth. "You don't even have to do anything," He says through gritted teeth, "I'm doing all the work fucking this tiny little mouth of yours, aren't I?" You can feel how turned on he is. He's fucking huge inside your mouth as he slides himself to and fro like his life depended on it.

"God you're so beautiful like this," He whispers, "You're so fucking beautiful taking my cock like a good little whore."

Jihoon's gaze lowers down to where your hand has taken to pushing aside your panties and rubbing swift wet circles on your clit.

"You're not gonna cum like that," He says, almost immediately stilling his frantic hips, "when you cum, it's gonna be because of me, understand?" His grip on your forearm is solid as he pulls you up from off the shower floor. You're absolutely limp in his hands, breath heavy as he brings you close to him. There is a silent, almost tender exchange, with him breathing heavily in your face while you stare wide eyed up at him.

Soon, he's spinning you around with his hands digging into your sides as he presses your front against the fogged up glass. Letting your tits push against the cool, wet surfaces, he draws your hips to his.

Before he sinks his cock into you, a very strange thing happens. Soft pillowy lips brush against your shoulder blade, eliciting a sharp gasp from you.

"Thank you," He whispers before sinking his cock into you with determination. He bottoms out faster than you anticipate, all while you've taken to moaning and whimpering like a mad woman. Your sounds egg him on, until he's rutting his twitching cock inside of you, desperately searching for the alleviation of a budding and aching need inside him.

"You feel so fucking good, you know that?" You hear him behind you. Feel him behind you. Your walls stretch and contract around his cock who continues to bully your insides.

"F-Fuck, Jihoona-"

"Fuck, you're squeezing me, Princess," Your orgasm sneaks up on you pile the devil himself, stripping you of your dignity as you push your hips backwards, almost instinctively forcing his cock deeper as you fucked yourself back onto him. Jihoon's mind is absolutely deranged with lust. He sinks his nails into the softness of your sides and he pulls your hips impossibly closer. He fucks you like a madman, his cock is fluid and quick, pushing against that particular cushion of nerves that has your orgasm feeling like an absolute lifetime. Your panties that had been carelessly pushed aside creates a second later of friction that has him so dangerously close to the edge.

"I'm going to cum inside you." He states while never letting himself stop fucking you, "Fuck- I'm going to cum inside you-" It's the hardest you've ever seen him cum before. His hair is messy and a darker shade under the wetness of the shower, his eyes are hooded and glossy and his body is shuddering against you, overcome by a wave of vicious shocks as he stutters and empties his balls deep inside of you. His cock is forced deeper than it's ever been and you're made completely full of his load. Jihoon is utterly spent as he lowers his weight onto your back. Letting a sea of kisses reign down on your back as your heavy breathing fills the warm and damp air.

"You look so fucking beautiful," He says, never letting his pecks against your back stop, "so fucking gorgeous." That seems like apology enough, on both parts.

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saradika · 2 months

Text

— invisible string

din djarin x vaguely force sensitive!reader

rated e - 1.7k

tags: divergent timeline, soulmate!au, takes place across season 1 & 2, missed connections, the Razor Crest lives, PiV, marking, creampie, magical elements

a/n: for the TS Challenge by @beskarandblasters! This was so fun, thanks so much for hosting this event! 💖 I was so excited to get this song & character

There's something about him, this man.

Deep down, it feels as if a string is tied around something vital inside you. A piece of you that you cannot live without, twined with its match inside him. Like the path you've taken has always led to this moment, this meeting.

You feel as if you are always out of step.

Too early. And then somehow - just a little bit too late.

As if you've missed something crucial. A prickle on the back of your neck. Eyes scanning the crowds of people as you weave through cities - looking for someone.

As to whom, though - you're never quite sure.

You think it's always been there. A similar sort of feeling that flickers when you're in danger. That was something you had cultivated. Manipulated into a force you can wield. A push and pull, an aid - when you need it. Something you draw from often, during your days as a smuggler.

But you're not sure what to do with this.

The feeling is pushed down on Nevarro.

Contacted for a job, one that had been easy enough. Your goods exchanged in a dingy cantina - a shipment of stolen fuel cells furtively traded to an irritated man that went by Karga. Your eyebrows raised at the charred hole in the man's fine clothes - a half-hearted wonder at how the man was still standing.

The Imperial credits he offers you do not get you far. He's unable to offer you a puck - his trade was in bounty hunting, not smuggling. You're not sure if you'd take one, and the cells are enough to keep his crew afloat for a while. A dead-end for now, but you think - not always.

After, your ship drifts along an unseen track.

To Tatooine this time. A big job for the Hutts that takes you two weeks. Days in the sun spent waiting for the payments to transfer to your account, and so in the meantime - you tinker.

Trading your way up. A broken blaster fixed, exchanged for ship parts. The parts installed, the labor paid for with two, beat-up old speeders.

Only to sell them both to a cocky hot-shot bounty hunter for double their value - his over-blown self-confidence eclipsing the fact that you were absolutely swindling him.

It’s not your problem.

Though here, you can't help but feel the urge to linger. An itch beneath your skin, as if you've missed something, again.

You ignore it. Trading up one more time - swapping Mos Eisley for the sea. The choppy waters of Trask washing away the grit and sand that clings to your skin.

There's always work to be found here - deals to make with the Quarren and Mon Calamari. Those days spent at the inn, with lunches of warm homemade chowder and wrapped in chunky-knit sweaters.

Eyes snagging on a couple that often sits together at lunch. Their features frog-like, affection clear in their soft chatter, the slow blink of their large, black eyes. You imagine it to be a stolen moment - meeting up in the afternoon, too eager to wait until evening to see each other.

It’s nice.

It follows you, back to your room.

You think about them later - the obvious connection. A bone-deep urge to find another that matches a part of you. Something you've never had.

Somehow you know it’s out there.

But it's not time.

The next day, your ship takes off again.

There's a feeling deep down that for once, you're right where you need to be.

Your path is not guided by a job. Something spinning inside your chest like the point of a compass, your fingers keying coordinates with a mind of their own.

It's not a sea. Not a desert. Not a growing town, slowly rebuilding.

You're taken to a forest. The trees are unlike those you've seen - stretching tall and thin towards the sky. Their leaves sparse, but still filling the space with the sheer number.

There's a village - but you're drawn away from the tall walls. There's nothing inside that you seek. Drawn back to the trees you had seen from above. There's no tracks for you to follow, it's only your own boots pressed into the earth.

But you still go out, day after day.

It's on the third day, as you sit by the edge of a clear, shallow pool, that you hear the crack of branches under boots.

It should frighten you… but it doesn't.

It feels like an inevitability.

Your head turns, and there's a man there. His limbs encased in armor of shining beskar. A Mandalorian, you realize, when your eyes meet the dark visor that bisects his helmet.

"It's you." The words are a flat buzz, through his helmet. Unsurprised, somehow. Just as you are.

And it's him.

There's something about him, this man.

You're not sure what that something is...

But think you are finally ready to find out.

His touch is familiar, though you've never known it. Much like everything else, it feels almost destined.

You know he feels it too. A slow circling dance, the weight of his eyes following you from behind the visor. That string inside no longer feels like a leash, but instead - a lifeline.

Finally being able to acknowledge that he has been what you've been orbiting around this whole time. Easing that ever-present ache of loneliness that had always followed you.

For some time, he had thought you would be the one to train Grogu. That perhaps this had been the reason why the fates had pushed you together.

You had tried, and failed. That part of you still too raw, too unfashioned. It lived inside you, but it was something you had been unable to teach another. How could you, when you did not even know the word for what it was?

And as time passed, you realized deep down that you were truly meant to be here now. Not for the before.

An aid at first, of course. You had gone with him to Tython. Traded in your ship, and traveled on the Slave 1. Had faced death by his side, staring into the black chrome of the Dark Troopers.

Had grieved with him, after.

You think this had been your place all along.

This liminal space, in those months that follow.

Giving him something to grab onto. Fingers sinking into flesh, your back hitting the mattress as he follows.

It’s dark, in the belly of his ship. With anyone else your senses would be screaming, a ringing alarm.

But you’ve come to know each room, fingers tracing the cold metal. From the walls, to the bunk, to him - the tips slipping under to tug at the fastenings of his armor.

He is quiet, like he often is now. But you can feel the heat that rolls off him in waves. The harsh buzz of his breath through the vocoder, before the light cuts out completely.

Before it’s just him and you.

His knees nudge your thighs wider. Pressing into muscle and flesh, forcing them up and apart. Your fingers twist in his curls, angling your mouth up to meet the kiss that is all teeth and tongue.

Fingers dip down, thick and calloused. Parting you, nudging inside to where you’re wet and waiting. Pumping deep with his thumb pressed snug against the button of your clit - leaving you dizzy and clenching and wondering if he just knew, as well.

You think he did. He does.

And when he works himself inside you, you finally feel full. Ripping a sound from each of you - his rough and swallowed, yours a broken murmur of his name.

Something else given in the dark, on another night akin to this. Pieces of himself peeled back and gifted, only to be carefully wrapped up and buried deep.

The pound of his hips itches at something you’ve been missing. Those hands tugging at your hips, pulling you to meet each harsh thrust. Fingers slipping down to swirl against you again - a spark rising each time you fit together, building swiftly to an inferno.

“Din,” You breathe, as something heavy flickers inside you, just out of reach, “Stars, please. Don’t stop-”

“I won’t,” It’s a low oath, as his cock grinds deep, “I’ve waited too long for you, cyare.”

He wrenches it from you, setting you ablaze. Your is cry loud in the tiny room as you come undone. The wild swirl of your senses narrowing down, until it’s just him. Din’s mouth against your neck, warm breath and teeth nipping marks into your skin - the pleasure flowing from you in pulsing waves, sinking into him.

Making him follow, no more than a dozen thrusts later. A gritted, bitten-back moan of your own name, before his hips are stuttering. Giving back what you passed to him, his cock throbbing inside you, buried deep.

Where he stays, until he’s gone soft. A pang of loss shuddering through you when he slips from between your thighs - expecting him to return to his own bunk.

To leave you, again.

But the mattress dips, next to you. The space narrow, a short sigh when you wiggle too much trying to get comfortable. Hands hooking around your wrists, hauling your hips over his. Settling you down on top of him.

And in the dark - he stays.

“Should have met you on Tatooine,” Din tells you later that night, unbidden. Letting your legs twine with his, thighs parted to make room for you. “I didn’t know it was you. If I had-”

His words end abruptly, hanging. Both of you thinking about all those moments when time hadn’t lined up. The synchronicity of your movements, just barely nudged out of time.

Both there, during that same moment. If you had stayed another day, maybe that would have been your meeting.

But you had left early, and he had came late.

“We’re here now.” You tell him, chin pressing against his chest. Eyes finding his in the dark, though you cannot see. “Isn’t that enough?”

There’s the brush of his hand along your spine - knuckles, and then fingertips as they unfurl.

“Yes.”

It is enough, for now.

You’re not sure if it’s forever. If, for some reason, you’ll be forced to part again. But tonight, you’re not worried.

Because, if you were to reach inside yourself and pluck that golden string right now - letting it thrum…

You think that he would feel it, too.

thanks so much for reading!! 💖

cyare - beloved

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #ts drabble challenge #din djarin imagine

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come-see-our-show · 5 months

Text

I saw an early screening of the Mean Girls movie last night, so here is a summary of my thoughts, comparing the movie musical to the Broadway musical, which I was lucky enough to see live in 2018!

Changed that I liked:

The usage of social media in the Broadway show made it very clear that it was written by adults who didn’t know much about Gen-Z. It was probably one of the worst parts of the show in my opinion. But Tina Fey must have done her research since 2018, because the way the movie uses TikTok, memes, vlogging, and FaceTime to push the story forward worked VERY well. I think there were some influencer cameos, but it didn’t feel they were included to show how “young and hip” they were, It actually added authenticity.

The diversity within the cast and changing last names to reflect the characters’ backgrounds (Karen Smith ➡️ Karen Shetty, Janis Sarkisian ➡️ Janis 'Imi'ike)

Cutting down “Meet the Plastics.” It’s a very exposition-heavy song and doesn’t need to be super long, even though the full version is quite catchy and fun.

All of the new jokes landed so well, probably because Tina Fey’s writing style is better suited for the screen as opposed to the stage.

This is more of a comparison of the musical vs. the original film, but a big change was The Plastics’ weaponized wokeness (which I talk about here).

The production design for most of the songs was very different. The stage musical has a lot of rock songs, which were changed to a pop sound for the movie. I personally prefer rock musicals, but it was a good way to give the movie a separate identity from its predecessor so it doesn’t risk becoming a carbon copy. It worked on some songs (“Someone Gets Hurt” and “World Burn”) but not on others (“A Cautionary Tale” and “Revenge Party”).

Cutting the joke about Regina’s ass being big. It was a very low-brow joke, which I’m not a fan of, and was just really immature. Thank God that was changed to her falling, which still shows her being embarrassed without her body being the joke.

Explicitly making Janis a lesbian! (It’s only implied in the stage show with “It’s not even true… I only have one butt”) And she goes to prom with a girl while Damien dances with a boy! ALSO THERE’S REJANIS LORE AND IT’S SO HEARTBREAKING I LOVE IT

megan thee stallion just… being there

Miss Norbury and Principal Duvall being a couple and owning a dog together!!!

As a low mezzo, I appreciated whoever decided to lower the key for “I’d Rather Be Me.” I felt very represented 🩷

Having Cady be raised in a single-parent household so it focuses in more on her relationship with her mom. Jenna Fischer was so motherly and sincere and brought a warmth to the movie. Their scene together near the end made me emotional (you’re never too old to ask your parent to stay with you until you fall asleep) (also this is my request to make jenna fischer my mom)

Changes that I didn’t like:

Cutting BOTH of Damian’s solos??? (SHE’S LEAVING!!!!!!!! JUST LIKE MY DAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Cutting “More Is Better.” It wasn’t necessarily a memorable song, but it did give both Cady and Aaron more depth, both as separate characters and within their relationship.

While cutting some of the songs helped with pacing, cutting HALF of the score made me forget that it was a musical sometimes, which sucks because I really like musicals!!!

Other stuff:

The movie was marketed horribly. One of my friends didn’t even know it was gonna be a musical because there were no songs in the trailers 💀 (Also, this isn’t just a Mean Girls problem. The Color Purple also didn’t have any songs in the trailer. I didn’t even know Wonka was a musical until I saw it in theaters, so that was a bit of a shock.) If you’re producing a musical movie, maybe your focus groups should be musical fans, because that’s still a HUGE market.

Auliʻi Cravalho’s voice is STUNNING! She and Jaquel Spivey had great chemistry and their friendship felt so genuine!

The opening and ending transitions from the garage were everything to me

The EDITING

Angourie Rice is a great actor and fit Cady perfectly… except for her singing. Out of the entire cast she was easily the weakest in terms of vocals and it was pretty disappointing since she’s the LEAD. I could barely hear her in the new song “What Ifs” because of how quiet and breathy she was. I think it’s a better written song compared to “Roar” though.

Jon Hamm cameo!

Ashley Park cameo!

I cannot stress enough how funny this movie was. I was probably laughing louder than everyone else in the theatre.

I lost my shit during “Meet the Plastics” when Regina unzipped her jacket and Cady was staring at her boobs. She’s just like me fr 🏳️‍🌈

I know that Regina is a horrible person but I couldn’t find it in me to dislike her in the slightest. She just served too much cunt 😩

Christopher Briney is a good actor, but I don't think he was the right choice for Aaron Samuels. I would hate to ridicule anyone for their looks, but it still plays an important part in casting. Aaron is supposed to be a somewhat naive, wholesome, hot jock (and Regina has high standards, so he better be a fucking model). Briney is definitely a cutie, but gives off “smoldering badboy with a secret sensitive side” energy, which isn’t what Aaron should be.

The fantasy sequences (Stupid With Love, Revenge Party, October 3rd). I LOVE when movie musicals USE the medium to tell stories in a way that they can’t on a stage!!!

THE CHOREO!!! Everyone freezing then shaking in “Someone Get Hurt” AHHHH that entire number was HYPNOTIZING!!!!!!!!!!! My friend told me the choreographer’s name is Kyle Hanagami, so shout out to him. (also reneé rapp was so fucking hot while singing that oh my lord)

I will be calling my pimples “face breasts” from now on (avantika ilysm)

DAMIAN’S FRENCH COVER OF THE ICARLY THEME SONG 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

why was there a 0.5 camera shot of cady during revenge party 💀

“I’d Rather Be Me” was so much fun and I felt so fucking empowered. And the transition from the song to the bus was just *chef’s kiss*

“donut worry i am still your freend” 🥺

Lindsay Lohan cameo!!!!!!!!!

NOT ENOUGH RENEÉ RAPP 😭😭

Overall, the movie was not perfect, but the Broadway show already had plenty of flaws, so it’s understandably how that would affect the adaptation. I still a LOT of fun and would definitely see it again. Go stream Snow Angel by Reneé Rapp. i love women 🥰🥰🥰

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steddietogo · 1 year

Text

So. This is my own take on Steddie meet cute at the Grammys (gets a little thirsty in the middle for a second so warning I guess??)

———

The buzzing in his veins feel too much to contain in Eddie’s body, his cheeks ache from grinning too hard. He grabs Jeff by the shoulders to shake him and Jeff takes it without complain, too busy floating in his own cloud nine to do anything about it. All four of them are.

They’re being carted off from one interview to another, it’s all hazy in his mind, all he can think of is that they won a fucking Grammy.

“We’re here backstage with Corroded Coffin with their first ever Grammy from the best rock performance category,” the interviewer is saying, then he turns to face the band, and shit. Eddie has to sling an arm over Gareth to keep himself upright. “So how are you guys feeling right now?”

“It feels very validating to get the recognition for all our hard work—” and everything else Jeff says barely registers. Eddie is staring, he’s distantly aware of it. But he should hardly be blamed. The man before him is dressed in a deep caramel suit, jacket cinching around a trim waist and bubble gum pink lips stretched in a smile as he diligently listens to what his band has to say.

“— and Eddie, he’s really put his heart and soul in this song in particular,” the mention of his name unceremoniously drags him back to the land of the living where his bandmates know him too well and are actively trying to sabotage him before the sexy interviewer. Gareth is innocently blinking up at Eddie with his I’ve-never-done-anything-wrong-in-my-life eyes, urging him to speak.

“Um,” Um? Seriously? “Mob Mentality is an especially significant song to me personally—” Eddie’s given this spiel a hundred times, not that any word of it is untrue, but the practiced response lets him zone out just the right amount to fully drown himself in the shade of hazel of the interviewer’s eyes, imagine them looking up at Eddie from between his thighs, full of tears— goddamnfuckstopit.

The man must notice, because there’s a gorgeous smattering of pink dusting his cheeks Eddie could swear wasn’t there before.

After, Eddie is pretty much bodily dragged away from there, legs refusing to carry him away. He twists even as he’s walking, desperate to keep the man within his sights for even just a second longer. To keep him looking at Eddie, which by some miracle, he still is. And like an idiot Eddie waves, wiggling his fingers at him.

The man raises his own hand in return, and then he’s turning away, leaving Eddie to mourn the loss of his attention. But then he hears it— Steve. The camera guy calls him Steve. Sexy interviewer’s name is Steve. That in itself would be enough to sustain Eddie’s daydreams for some time.

———

Predictably, its all over social media the very next day. Or more accurately there’s one particular clip circling the net like there’s no tomorrow.

Eddie Munson simping for hot guy at the Grammys.

The comments were the worst (best) part. Eddie hasn’t dated since coming out to the public. And the fact that most of the comments people have about him openly showing interest in another man is just nonchalance or excitement makes him feel much better about it.

Eddie’s heart skips as he sees the face from last night in the clip, looking even more gorgeous than in his dreams if it were even possible. And then there is also Eddie in those clips, practically undressing him with his eyes, right there in public. He looks like he wants to open him up and lick him like melted chocolate in a wrapper.

Eddie was so screwed.

———

Top comments:

user 80085: that man is stronger than me because I don’t think I’d survive Eddie Munson looking at me like that

CorrodedFC: Eddie Munson Rendered momentarily speechless? by an interviewer?? More likely that you think

you_call_me_munson: they need to date. Right this second or I’m stealing one of the hotties for myself

———

Part II

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #famous eddie munson #steddie Grammys edition

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enviedear · 6 months

Text

jackie and wilson — billy bonney

⤷ modern!billy au

tw— somehow this is 4.6k words. mentions of food and eating, talk of religion and bible verses, (i'm southern and was forced to go to church every sunday it reflects in the writing) smutty themes so, minors dni, 18+ only, kissing, fondling, skinny dipping, (they're in their undies) so horrifically fluffy

i can already tell this is going to become an ongoing series, so be sure to comment and lmk if you want more. also, this is influenced by my daily mantra

request

the summer heat feels like it's baking you as you traverse through the long grass of your farmland. birds call and screech in the trees lining the woods beside you. if you weren't so scared of walking the shortcut in the woods alone, your risk of sun poisoning may seem less apparent.

you grip the wicker basket in your hands tighter, eyes squinting to look for the lean farmhand-for-hire. in years past, you've been keen to take his place whenever your grandparents needed someone for an oddball job. working long hours with the older couple up until you graduated from the county high school. as the seasons changed, and you got older and busier, so did your grandparents. their work on their farm proved in dire need of help.

a simple fix—you. this summer, free from university and your internship, your parents elected you to spend the free time of your summer working on your loving grandparents' farm.

in the early days of the warm season, you managed pretty well on your own. you tended the vegetables and the fruits, took care of the chickens and sheep, and sowed the large fields with grain until sunset.

everything changed after an unfortunate incident with your grandpa's gargantuan baler. luckily, you were fine, but your pa's expensive baler was wrecked all to hell.

so here you were, now relegated to some pseudo farmer's daughter role, hand-delivering water and a full lunch to none other than billy bonney.

your grandparents say billy's nice enough, mannerly yet hushed. but you know there's more to it. at least if small town gossip is anything to believe, and here, it usually is.

everyone knows the crowd billy runs around with. he's also got a vile gang of friends. angry men with sly smirks who spend most of their free time loitering the town's local bar or gambling away their lives at lawrence murphy's corral. the type of men to carry a weapon at all times without any license, and quick to threaten to shoot with even the most minor infraction.

the knowledge was enough to have you hiding away from him every time your grandparents hired him for a job.

everytime that is, until now.

you knew with the way your pa sternly stared into your eyes that a complaint wouldn't be warranted. as your grandma instructed you to bring the farmhand some, "hearty lunch for his hard work," you came to terms with the fact that you had no right to argue.

not when you owe the old man a baler.

you finally reach the young man, covered in grime and leaning against his parked pickup, out of breath and sweltering. you try not to stare at the baler attached to the tractor, about twenty feet from his parked vehicle, your embarrassment over wrecking the last one still ever present.

his truck has its' doors wide open, blaring music through blown speakers. you try to avoid making direct eye contact with him, voice raised slightly to be heard over the folk song playing, "here. figure you're hungry."

lifting the tea towel from the top of the basket, you set it on his open truck bed. despite not looking up, you can see him hurry to turn his music down before sauntering over to you from the side of your gaze.

"thank you," his voice surprises you. it's gruff but gentle. "you kin to the old couple?"

you're not sure why, but you take offense to his question. sure you've ignored him, but you know that he knows who you are. you meet his stare, your tone dry in response, "i am."

he inclines his head toward the basket, ignoring your reply with a hum, "what'd ya' bring me, hon?"

your eyes roll unabashed at his endearment, "my grandma threw a bit of everything in there. i know there's some jambalaya— the last bit of our mud cake too."

"you're spoiling me, you tell her i said thank you," he pauses, peering down at you, "are you going to be bringin' me my lunch everyday?"

his question is innocuous but something in the way he says it makes your stomach drop. you shrug, "sure, i guess."

"i'd like that." he slips the words out before his hands dive into the basket, fishing out one of the water bottles.

you nod, confused by him, "yeah well, be careful. i guess i'll see you tomorrow."

at that you turn from him, walking your trail again to get back to the house. you fight the urge to look over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of him. some proof he's really there, that the interaction actually happened.

because despite the second-hand opinion you've held on him, billy bonney was unexpected. annoyingly so.

as you finish up your day, you can't help but think about the encounter with the dark-haired farmhand. you've known of him for years, sure, but you never expected much of him.

just another one of jesse evans’ rowdy boys.

shocking, that billy would be so different. or maybe, just better at hiding his depravity. you think back to his voice, rough around the edges, yet littered with tenderness. it’s not until you think back to his gentle smile that you realize, there’s a kindness that exudes from him, and it’s got you hook, line, and sinker.

you wonder if he's always been this way? you like to think he has. even if it is only a platitude for your undeniable crush.

in the following days, you continue to bring the farmhand his lunch, stopping to talk to him longer each noon. he's easy to talk to, apt to ask you about your day, or if you need anything. you can't exactly explain why, but you're drawn to him.

it's extra muggy as you pack up his lunch and make your way to him, breaking from his time on the baler to lay in the bed of his truck.

he doesn't take notice of you until your basket finds home right beside him, blasted speakers blaring yet another folk tune.

"hey there," he greets you with a grin, his white work shirt wrought with soil, the short sleeves haphazardly rolled, "you know i'm starting t'get used to this."

you smile back, feeling a warm sensation spreading through your body, "i'm sure you are."

billy takes a look in the lunch basket, grabbing out some water first to clear the dirt on his hands, "you wanna hang around for a bit?"

you hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should. not only do you have a long list of chores, you also still find a bit of nervousness around the young man.

but billy's been nice enough, and if he's anything like his friends you assume he would have shown it by now, "i guess i have some time."

billy nods, handing you a water and patting the free space beside him. you hop up, close enough that his side brushes yours.

the sensation sends shivers down your spine as you try to focus on conversation, pulling for anything you can say. for a moment, neither of you speaks, the only sound is coming from the music blasting from his speakers. an old rock song today, different. your eyes try to look anywhere but at him, taking in the vast expanse of farmland around you.

"must be nice to have all this land to yourself," billy says, breaking the silence.

you nod, grateful for his compliment, "it is. my grandparents have worked hard to keep it running."

"i can tell," billy says, taking a swig from his water bottle, "they got a good thing goin' here."

you agree, taking a sip from your own bottle. the sun beats down on your skin, making you feel sweaty and sticky. billy, on the other hand, seems used to it. he looks up at the sky, squinting against the sunlight.

"you know, i was thinking," billy says, steady voice breaking the silence again, "what would you say if i took you out sometime?"

your heart skips a beat, your mind going into overdrive. you never expected billy to ask you out, even more so that you’d be so willing to entertain the idea.

you hesitate for a moment before answering, "i don't know. i mean, i barely know you."

this is a half truth, you know him. only this version though, the sweet billy bonney who works on your family farm and takes his lunch breaks with you. you don't have any idea who he is outside of these moments.

at least not first hand. just second hand gossip. you wouldn’t even know which stories are real or fake. you’re not sure if he’s a convincing actor or genuine soul. there are rumors he shot a man back in his hometown. that he launders money with jesse evans’ gang. that he’s a cheat from a rodeo front, taking ignorant peoples’ bet money.

billy hums, breaking your anxious thoughts, "what'd you wanna know, hon? i'm an open book."

you chew on your lip, thinking about it. it could be a smart move, you're curious about him and need to know more. you need to know what about him is fact or fiction. but at the same time, you're afraid of what the truth may be, "i don't know," you say finally. "i mean, work, for example. is this all you do?"

billy cracks a smile, "no, hon’. this s’more of a side job.” he sighs, “i was a pickup for jesse evans' rodeo for a while, but that new fella' that just came to town—mr. tunstill, he's got me a better gig."

you furrow your brows, already on edge by the mention of his previous employer, "and what exactly is that?"

he chuckles a bit, "he's got me as a producer, but i do show on the weekends."

"so what? you're a full-fledged rodeo man? with bulls and all?" you'd always know of jesse's grimy ‘rodeo’, really just used as a gambling den and club, but you're intrigued by the idea of billy actually doing it. especially working with tunstill, a sincerely kind wealthy man from overseas. it must be a stark contrast to jesse’s.

"i guess. it's a good time and you can make honest money dependin' on the event," he pauses, "it's not like jesse's, if that's what you're wondering."

you look away from him, "my pa never let me go. when i turned twenty-one i tried to go with a bunch of my girlfriends. he about had a stroke keeping me out the door."

"he's smart, you shouldn't go. those guys are bad news." he's talking quieter now, less sugary and more solemn.

you fight your previous embarrassment, opting to stare straight into his pale blues, "you hang around those guys."

your sentiment is clear and billy goes hush for a long few seconds before speaking, eyes closed, "do not carouse with drunkards or feast with gluttons, for they are on their way to poverty, and too much sleep clothes them in rags."

you know those words, heard primarily while crammed in a pew, "you're a religious man?" you don't mean to, but your question comes out a bit unconvinced.

he opens his eyes back up, a spark of something you can't place within them, "no, not really. jus' something mr. tunstill keeps repeating to me. i didn't really pay it any mind till i met you."

you try to ignore the way his hand inches closer to your own, "why's that?"

"not sure. just seems easier to abide by now. i'd hate to end up like them. i know you don't like 'em." his voice is soft, but the hand that takes hold of yours isn't.

you look down at your feebly interlocked hands, hesitating, and then taking his hand with the same conviction, "no, i don't," a breath, "but i like you."

billy's face lights up at your words, and he leans in closer to you. you can feel his breath on your face, and your heart races with excitement and anticipation. you’ve never felt to entrapped in a man before, so ready to dive in head first.

without thinking, you reach out to touch his sun kissed cheek, and he leans into your hand. your fingers trace a path down his cheek, and then down to his lips. you have an overwhelming urge to kiss him, and you're surprised when he pulls back.

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have done that." you say, feeling embarrassed.

"no, it's not that. it's just… i want to take you out on a real date. something proper." his cheeks have grown far more pink, only this time it's not the sun's doing.

you consider his words for a moment, before nodding, "that sounds real nice, billy."

he grins, and you feel a flutter in your chest. how he managed to make you feel this way so soon, you're not sure.

"you free this friday?" he asks, amusement in his tone.

you release his hand, grabbing for your phone, "should be, my boss loves me," a stupid joke, but you hand the touchscreen to him, "put your number in, so we can plan a time."

you climb down from the bed of the truck, peering up at the farmhand as he adds his number to your phone. when he's done he hands you back the phone, the sun casting an auburn glow to his hair.

you look up at him, and he smiles down at you, "don't be a stranger." he jokes.

you give him a laugh, "wouldn’t dream of it," you add, "i'll see you friday— i'm going into town with my grandma tomorrow. i'm sure it'll last all day."

billy hums, "till' friday, honey."

you turn and head back to the house, smiling to yourself, feeling happy and alive in a way that you haven't felt in a long time.

the next day, thursday, you wake up early to accompany your grandma into town. the older woman drags you up and down shopping centre's, moaning on and on about how cheaply things are made now.

you make it through the first ten stores without your smile cracking, you think it must be a finely tuned talent.

it's not until well after lunch the woman decides to slow down, stopping at a local diner to eat. she does most of the talking, gossiping about everyone she's run into today.

you love your grandma and you enjoy your time with her, but you're too focused on tomorrow to really be good company.

if she notices your change in behavior though, she doesn't comment. highly unlike her.

by the time the sky is more dark than light, you two head home. she plays old country music the whole ride, teeny-bopper songs that remind you how young she used to be.

and when you finally lay your head down to rest, you don't try to fight off the supercut in your mind of your sweet farmhand.

the next day, fateful friday, arrives with a mix of nerves and excitement. you find yourself checking the clock more often than usual, the anticipation building as the day progresses. your mind drifts to the possible plans for the evening, wondering where billy might take you on this 'proper date.'

a bit after the sun hits noon, you finish up your chores on the farm, your thoughts consumed by your impending evening. you decide to freshen up and put on something nice, an easy way to get your mind together.

your closet here is less thorough than the one at home, but the innocent tops and bottoms of your late teens still fit. you look less severe than you'd normally for a date. forgone are the dark, tight, and sultry clothes of your college town, leaving you looking ever so sweet.

the early afternoon arrives, and you hear the distant rumble of his pickup as it approaches. you feel alight with a muddled mess of nerves as you make your way out of the house to meet him.

you look over your shoulder when you crack the door open. making sure you haven't awoken your sleeping grandparents, who rarely miss their three o'clock naps.

the summer sun is high in the sky, casting a bright glow over the landscape. billy's leaned up against his truck, staring expectantly at your front porch— staring at you, you realize.

as you walk to him, you can't help but notice the effort he put into dressing up. his filthy work shirt is replaced with a clean, green linen button-down, and there's a hint of ambery cologne in the air. he offers you a genuine smile, eyes lighting up as he takes in your appearance.

"hey there, beautiful." he greets you, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder blade, comforting.

"hi," you reply, returning his saccharine smile. "you clean up nice."

he chuckles, a bit bashful, "well, i figured it's a special occasion."

you let him lead you to the passenger side, where he opens the rusty pickup's door for you, you fight back your grin when he follows in after.

as you drive into town, the atmosphere is a blend of excitement and a tinge of nervousness. billy takes you to a quaint little restaurant a bit outside of town. it's casual but with dim lights and a cozy ambiance. certainly it's the most romantic restaurant around without heading an hour out into the city. the two of you share stories and laughs, finding little to no lull in conversation.

"you want any dessert?" you ask, fiddling a loose thread at the hem of your blouse.

billy shrugs, "i've never said no to some banana puddin'. what'd you say?"

you giggle, nodding in agreement. you feel high off of his company. you're giddy and doing a horrible job at hiding it, but he doesn't seem to mind. instead, he relegates to matching your optimism, only validating every enamored thought of him that rings in your mind.

the warm evening air swirls around you as the two of you exit the restaurant. billy offers his hand, and you gladly intertwine your fingers as you stroll down the sidewalk. the town square is alive with the soft glow of streetlights.

as you walk, the conversation continues, easy and simple. billy talks animatedly about his past few weekends at the rodeo and shares some amusing anecdotes about the other rider’s on the circuit. you, in turn, finally divulge your baler incident, much to his chagrin.

the final hours of afternoon are slowly rolling in, and soon you find yourselves back at his pickup truck. you assume he'll drive you home, but to your surprise, he takes a different route, heading towards the backroads right beside your land. you raise an eyebrow, curious about this unexpected detour.

"where are we going?" you inquire, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

billy smirks but doesn't say anything, keeping the destination a secret. the road is winding and narrow— made of dirt and full of large potholes. you know your little front-wheel drive could never make it. eventually, he slows the car off the path, onto the side of the road.

there's an apparent trail just to the right of you, and when billy opens the door for you, he immediately ushers you toward it, "don't worry, we won't go too far in."

you'd be lying if you said the setting sun wasn't adding a level of unease to the idea of entering the woods, but when you look at billy, eyes bright and smile true, you throw aside your worries.

the young man is true to his word. the trek into the woods only lasts a few minutes before you see it. an azure expanse of water— a secluded lake surrounded by towering oak trees and a backdrop of rolling hills.

you turn back to look at him, shocked, "how did you find this?"

"jus’ by chance a few years ago. i figured you'd been out here before, living so close," he remarks, "but i like that i got to show it to you." billy admits, a devoted glint in his eyes.

as you stand there, gazing at the serene lake, you feel a sense of wonder and gratitude for this unexpected and beautiful surprise. you can't remember the last time the familiar landscape of home felt so awing. billy seems to be taking in your reaction, a quiet satisfaction evident on his face.

"it's breathtaking." you finally say, your voice hushed in appreciation.

billy grins, seemingly pleased with your reaction, "so are you."

you turn back to the water to hide your flustered expression.

you watch him find a comfortable spot by the water's edge, sitting on a large flat rock. you follow suit, letting your head nestle into his chest. the sounds of nature surround you—the rustling leaves, the gentle lapping of the water, and the distant calls of birds. it's a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the town and the farm.

you look up at him as inconspicuously as possible, eager to commit his image to memory. his umber hair curls at the nape of his neck, slender nose burnt from the sun, his freckles apparent, and his ever-inspired blue eyes reflecting the water ahead.

you look away as your heartbeat quickens, afraid that if you peer up any longer he'll be able to hear the rhythm.

"can you swim?" you ask, toes dipping into the waters below.

billy's gaze softens, the radiant hues of his eyes flickering with warmth as he looks down at you. his calloused hand idly tracing circles on your back, comforting, "yeah, i can swim. why? you wanna go for a dip?" he replies, a playful glint dancing across his face.

enthusiastically, you nod, "i'd love to. it's been ages since i've been swimming in a place like this."

with a charismatic grin, billy stands up, extending a hand to help you rise. he doesn't hesitate to unbutton his shirt and free himself from his pants— clothed only in his black boxers.

you try to be as carefree as him, but you're slower to shed your attire. by the time you do, he's already shoulder deep in the water.

you make your way to the water's edge, stepping in. the cool embrace of the lake greets your skin as you wade in. the sun now casts a dim golden glow on the rippling surface.

as you move deeper into the water, you feel a sense of liberty wash over you. you let out a contented sigh, feeling weightless and unburdened. billy is a few feet away from you, beckoning you to come closer with a smile on his face. you oblige, splashing water playfully in your wake.

as you approach him, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close. you can feel the heat emanating from his body, warming you up in the cool water. your bare skin presses against his, and you can feel a hint of longing course through your veins.

"you're s'beautiful," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "prettiest girl i've ever seen."

you chuckle slightly, looking beside him to the water, "you're just blowing smoke up my ass."

his hand finds your cheek, gently beckoning you to face him fully, "why would i ever do that?" he hums, "i only say things i mean, honey."

you blink at him, too far gone to stop your gaping, "you're a charmer, billy bonney. do you hear that a lot?"

he laughs, both hands now coming to rest at your hips, forcing you to wrap your legs around his, "i only need to hear it from you."

he says it so carelessly, without a thought. he's telling the truth, you surmise.

"why? you like me or something?" the words come out genuine, despite your teasing intent.

billy's eyes trail down to your lips, "i like you a whole lot, honey," you feel his grip grow steadier, holding you closer to him. he looks back up at you, gaze tempting, "i like you s'much i worked an extra four days on your farm jus’ to see you."

the revelation hangs in the air, and you find yourself caught in a suspended moment, the water lapping gently around you. billy's admission resonates, sinking deep into the newfound connection you've shared over these past days. his stare, earnest and reserved, locks with yours, and you can't help but feel a swirl of emotions.

a smile plays on your lips, a mixture of surprise and awe, "that's dedication." you reply, a playful sparkle in your eyes.

billy grins, his hands still securely holding you. "only for you, honey. i'm nothin' if not devoted."

you gleam at his words, intrinsically leaning closer to him. you're so close to letting your lips brush his before you stop, eager to see the weight of his affection once more, "you can kiss me now, if that's what you're waiting for."

with that, he presses his lips to yours, kissing you with a hunger that leaves you breathless. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, savoring the taste of him on your tongue.

billy breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses and nips along the way. you tilt your head back, giving him better access to your skin, letting out a soft sigh as he finds the sensitive spot on your neck.

"you're gonna be the death o'me." he whispers against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

your fingers tangle in his hair as he continues his assault on your neck, alternating between gentle kisses and nibbles. you can feel the heat building between your bodies, the water around you providing a cooling effect to your heated embrace.

billy's hands slip down to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him so that there's barely any space between you. he grinds his hips against yours, earning a moan from deep in your throat. you can feel his hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of his boxers.

your eyes flutter open and you lock gazes with him, the intensity of his gaze mesmerizing. you tilt your head back down, allowing him to steal another kiss. his tongue teases yours. his hands roam up and down your body, exploring every inch of you he can with a passionate fervor.

you can feel yourself being taken into the depths of him until you can barely think or breathe. it's only when he finally pulls away, that you realize the afternoon has fully evolved into the beginnings of nighttime. the sky above you is almost entirely dark, littered with stars.

somehow, you still don’t think the kiss was long enough.

billy smiles at you, brushing his hair away from his eyes. you can't help but smile back, feeling content and happy.

"i think i like you too much." he murmurs, his warm breath caressing your skin. you laugh softly, feeling the same way.

a hum of agreement, "me too." you whisper back, pulling him into a tight hug. you stay like that for a while, enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other's embrace.

as the night deepens, you and billy finally decide to make your way back to the truck. billy helps you out of the water, his touch lingering as you both reluctantly part from the tranquil lake. the air is filled with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, their symphony accompanying your footsteps as you follow the narrow trail back to the pickup truck.

the woods, now cloaked in darkness, take longer to exit. the moonlight filters through the dense canopy of leaves, casting shadows on the forest floor.

once back at the truck, you find yourself wrapped in a cozy blanket billy had thoughtfully brought along. the drive home is filled with a comfortable silence, the events of the evening settling into a cherished memory. the road is dimly lit by the truck's headlights, and the night sky is a canvas of stars above.

as you approach the farmhouse, the thrill of the night lingers between you and billy. he parks the truck, and the engine falls silent. the two of you sit in the quiet for a moment, savoring the experience.

"thank you for tonight, you were real sweet." you say, breaking the silence.

billy turns to you, a peaceful smile playing on his lips. "i should be thanking you, for goin’ out with me. so thank you, darling. i think you're real sweet too."

"i'm real glad we met." you add.

he reaches over, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining in a comfortable gesture. "me too," he replies, his gaze holding yours.

with a reluctant smile, you open the truck door, preparing to step out. billy, however, stops you with a gentle tug on your hand.

"before you go," he starts, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, "i was wonderin' if you'd like to do this again sometime. maybe i could take you down to the rodeo?"

the question catches you off guard, but the sincerity in his expression is undeniable. you feel a warmth spread through your chest, and you nod, "i'd like that, billy."

he grins, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his features. "good. it's a date then." you agree, leaning up and placing a peck on his pink lips before stepping out of the truck.

it's not until you're safely inside that he drives away into the night, the sound of the engine fading into the distance.

even as you slip into bed, the memories of the night play in your mind like a vivid dream. you drift into sleep with thoughts of the lake, the evening kisses, and the now waivered apprehension of the farmhand.

you've found yourself ensnared with billy bonney.

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

billy taglist— @honey-bees-13 @poppyflower-22 @black-yn @siriuslybeloved @sherlollyliveson18 @cosmicspacewitch @aravenswritingdeskblog @sabrinasbd @cqsmo @coconut-dreamz @preciouspinkyy

₊˚౨ৎ˚₊ to remain on my taglist, make sure to interact :)

#billy the kid #billy bonney #billy the kid x reader #billy bonney x reader #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #tom blyth!billy the kid #tom blyth #billy bonney fluff #billy the kid fluff #i know everyone’s in their coriolanus era but…

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12triceratops · 1 month

Text

Where the rubber meets the road.

These two didn't just have a relationship, they had a (soul)utionship. "The Prophecy" Hand on the throttle Thought I caught lightning in a bottle...

What these two had was magical. There is no debate that Karlie Kloss and Taylor Swift were electric: (I am using past tense for the moment, I will refer to them in present tense a bit later in the post)

Fast forward a decade later to Fortnight. This record did not hit me immediately the way "Folklore" and "Evermore" did, It has almost been a week since its release and I hadn't been fully onboard with TTPD. I was expecting something different, something not familiar and I had quite literally thought maybe Jack Antinoff and Taylor Swift had reached their limit together as collaborators. The music produced by Aaron Dressner had flavors and connections to "Folklore" and "Evermore," while parts of the album was reminiscent of "1989." My next thought that maybe the three of them had done all they could do.

And then the Matty Healy conversation exploded across the net (le sigh), and I just about gave up on the record.

I damn near had a sanguinary struggle within myself over The Tortured Poets Department (I know, that is very dramatic lol), and then I finally got it. The brilliance of this woman is unmatched.

The last song "The Manuscript." Now and then she rereads the manuscript Of the entire torrid affair

"The entire torrid affair" meaning the last decade (probably longer, but I am sticking with 2014-2024). The title isn't lost on me and many others - The Man-U-Script.

The last segment of the song

The only thing that's left is the manuscript One last souvenir from my trip to your shores Now and then I reread the manuscript But the story isn't mine anymore

She is closing the chapter on all of it. It's over, the countless theories, the stories we all have created about her. They're our stories now, we built them into a formidable, monstrous entity that took on a life of its own. "The last souvenir" are her words to us on this album. From the Swifities, to the Gaylors/Kaylors, to the haters, critics, industry, fans, media. She won't play this game anymore. Taylor gave enough clues on this album to make EVERYONE'S theory plausible (Karlie, Joe, Matty, Travis, Harry, Kim etc). She connected threads to come full circle, which brings us back to "1989," that 1980s syth-pop (hello! "I Can Do It With A Broken Heart"). This is why she and Jack Antonoff brought us back to where it all began, Karlie Kloss and #Kissgate (Dianna Agron, too, who can forget "Wonderland). Aaron Dressner summons moments within this records of the two albums that fractured my soul, F & E. That folky-pop melody that gets into your skin to change the DNA. No joke, I sobbed listening to "Folklore" and "Evermore."

With TTPD, Taylor comes in like a thrashing, tumultuous storm; at times seething and others admonishing. She is singing to herself, for herself and without need of approval from the mainstream radio (or anyone else). TTPD is messy, too much, not enough, vulnerable, real, relatable and she is tired of our collective shit.

Back to "The Manuscript" This Era has come to an end and she is leaving us with the ruins, the aftermath of what she went through: being forced to hide who she really is, having to placate the rabid fans who believe the stories of every boy she has ever dated. She has had zero privacy and the only safe place Taylor has ever had was her music, she is the ONLY one who knows to whom she sings. Does she love her fans, of course, but Mother is tired and done. She is ready to come clean and live the life she has crafted to keep in secret in order to protect the innocent.

The beards, NDAs, slight of hand, she is smashing all that we know. It's not her reflection she seeks to shatter, it's the illusions. In "Fortnight" the nurse, a woman (cannot convince me that it's not Karlie. A doorframe is 6'8" and that nurse is about 5" shorter that frame, which would make that person 6'3" :), comes to save her, gives her the key to set her free. The men in the video are the ones who are torturing her. Like the last 10 years, The poet has been tortured by the department of men: Joe, John, Conner, Jake, Harry, Calvin, Tom, Joe, Matty, Travis, Scooter, Scott, and the list goes on.

It's "Robin" that has got a choke-hold on me.

Buried down deep And out of your reach The secret we all vowed To keep it from you in sweetness

She is singing to a child, a kid, and I am going to say a little boy. Is this song about Levi? I am going to say yes. Hands down the gem of the album, and our cue to realize she is telling us what is next, her family, the loves of her life: Karlie and the kids. That is what she wants and that will be her next chapter. We struggle to interpret the Taylor that is always ten steps ahead of us. Her Eras Tour, this will be the last one for a while. Once it has wrapped, I wouldn't be surprised if she disappeared for a spell. Will she produce more work, sure. Perform, probably, but this last decade has taken a toll, and this tour has been a herculean effort. Hence, its wild success. Could she retire (FLORIDA)? It's possible, but she would never tell us, we would have to figure that out for ourselves.

I have more to say, but it's late and I am sleepy. As I get lost in the piano of "The Manuscript" I am reminded of the book "The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo"

Not sure if anyone is going to see or read this, but I needed a place to write my thoughts about this extraordinary album that I almost let slip through my fingers. Good night and sleep well everyone <3

#taylor swift #karlie kloss #the tortured poets department #matty healy #gaylor #kaylor #jack antonoff #aaron dessner #1989 era #the eras tour

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kurokens · 2 months

Text

In The Middle | Satosugu

anime/manga: jujutsu kaisen

character: gojo satoru & geto suguru

words: 798

pronouns: they/them

request: none

notes: probably an overused prompt but idc sue me, i needed to write one of my own. im a sucker for misunderstanding. i haven't written anything in such a long time, it's been a while im sorry, satosugu have been on my mind for a while, and i needed to write something with them because i love them so fucking much. it's gonna be a series, so hopefully i dont disappear after one part lol... later on it might be specific on some insecurities bc i need it and i thought well let's just share it with the world and other who might need it. sorry for any mistakes T-T

not proof read

song rec: SHE'S - In The Middle

genre: hurt comfort, fluff, slowburn, a little bit angsty, poly?

warnings: bad english not my first language, satosugu are in a loving relationship, misunderstanding, pinning, a lot of pinning on satosugu's end, reader is so oblivious (is that the right one?), insecure and self conscious reader

You've always told yourself you weren't the type to live with anyone, you liked your quiet and your peace. Alone in your little bubble, without a soul to disturb it. And yet, here you were awoken by your roomates lover quarrel in the room next door, for the hundredth time this week.

"Don't you love me anymore? Am I not enough for you?" a whiny voice whisper-screamed "Satoru, my love, it was a dream, it was all in your head." an exhausted voice replied

"So what?? It doesn't mean anything? Are my feelings not valid?" Gojo huffed.

"How are you so dramatic so early in the morning? Let's go back to sleep come here.", Geto carefully lifted the blanket so his boyfriend could go back exactly where he belonged, asleep and quiet in his arms.

Such occurences weren't new to you, you could even say there were your daily life, that's why you laughed hearing the bickering couple, and turned around in your bed to try and fall back asleep while their muffled voices could still be heard in the background. This was without counting on what part of their conversation your brain decided to pick up on next. "I dont know for how much longer I can do this Sugu.." Satoru sighed. "Me neither love, but there is nothing much we can do about it.They live with us." His black haired lover replied. "I know, ugh I know, but it's getting so much harder everyday. Seeing them is becoming unbearable. I can't stand it anymore, we need to do something." He went on. "Shh, I know, I feel the same. But we can't just drop this on them all of the sudden and expect it to go well." The oldest reasoned.

Your heart shattered on the other side of the wall, now sitting against the headboard, an unstoppable flow of tears falling down your face. You were a bother? You thought the three of you were friends, shit, scratch that, best friends. And yet, yet, this was how they felt about you. Fuck fuck FUCK You needed to calm down, it's okay, you're okay. It must have been a nightmare, yeah that's right, a nightmare. Your brain loved playing tricks on you, waking you up in the middle of the night with the most vivid and realistic nightmares ever, enough to send you into full blown meltdown. Nothing to worry about, it was just a nightmare, nothing else. That's what you told yourself and yet when you woke up you couldnt shake this weird feeling in your stomach. You contemplated staying in your bed all day and avoid your roomates but that would be silly to ignore them for something that was potentially just a dream. So you shook the silly feelings away and got out of your bed, made your way to the kitchen to make some breakfast. Your two roommates were already there, being lovey dovey in each others lap and the weird feeling made its way back into your stomach. "Hi there." You greeted tiredly, only to be met with an echo of short hms, and not even a nod to accompany the cold greeting. The lack of acknowledgment not helping with your already overthinking mind, you decided to take a quick breakfast and just leave them be. It could just be a coincidence, nothing to worry about haha, right? Or so you thought, because you were back in your room mindlessly scrolling through tik tok when you once again hear the muffled voices of your roommates. Your brain screamed at you to put your headphones on and drown out their conversation, but you couldn't get yourself to do it, and you decided to listen to them, to at least finally be able to know whether or not you dreamed what happened last night. And maybe you shouldn't have, but what else could you do now but listen to the cruel words of the ones you once considered your best friends. "Suguru, we need to do it soon. I can't even handle looking at them in the eyes anymore, let alone utter a word to them. We can't keep going like this." Satoru complained. "I know 'Toru, I know, but you need to understand it's not as easy as you think it is." You heard the black haired man answer. And it was enough for you, you needed to get out of there. You obviously were no longer welcomed here, and the sooner you left, the better it would be, for both parties. So inbetween tears you picked up a bag and threw some spare clothes and anything that you could think of in your frenzy state before you ran out of there, determined to never come back, at least not for a while.

here u gooo!! sorry i've been away for a while, i've been finding it hard to write and staying focused, but i missed it so much, especially for these two. i'll try not to take too long to write AT LEAST a second part, but would love to do more than this bc i want it to be extremely slown burn and a little bit angsty krkrkr

part 2 is here!!

#saturn's writing #satosugu x reader #satosugu x you #satosugu poly #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x gojo satoru x reader

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wandasaura · 6 months

Text

— 𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

📍⊹ ˚ . 18+, men dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰🧣꒱ ♡ ･ full masterlist ✧

[ ꕤ ] — ageplay [ ♡ ] — smut [ ✧ ] — fluff [ 🂱 ] — series [ ౨ৎ ] — au

‎ WANDA MAXIMOFF — parts will be added as written

the plan [ 2.1k ] ♡

wanda’s been neglecting you for weeks, it’s only fair that you get back at her when she least expects it

the quiet game [ 3.7k ] ♡

nobody can beat wanda at her own game, but that doesn’t stop you from trying, and roping natasha into your little game much to her amusement

NATASHA ROMANOFF — parts will be added as written

gold thats in your eyes [ 2.8k ] ✧

you’ve known natasha romanoff since she first defected to shield, but it’s taken you years to realize that you’ve loved her since then too

WANDANAT — parts will be added as written

a promise [ 1.6k ] ✧౨ৎ

when you wake up alone, the only place you want to land is in the arms of your lovers

little dove au ꕤ ✧ 🂱 ౨ৎ

the sweetest thing that had ever stumbled into their lives was you; their innocent little dove.

the one you reached for [ 8.6k ] ♡✧౨ৎ

after you decide to be a brat as a means to get natasha’s attention, she punishes you, though wanda thinks she’s entirely too soft

lovelorn and nobody knows [ 13.3k ] ♡✧౨ৎ

your relationship with natasha is not as black and white as it seems, but you’re in no rush to figure out the logistics of it. when she leaves for a business trip, wanda is your only source of comfort, but you hate her… right?

my face in a red flush [ 7.1k ] ♡✧౨ৎ

your first mistake was thinking natasha wouldn’t use the time away to tease you, your second mistake was thinking you could handle it

end up dreaming instead of sleeping [ 1.2k ] ✧౨ৎ

you can’t hate her with your eyes closed, so falling asleep against her chest definitely can’t be held against you… right?

linger like a tattoo kiss [ 12.2k ] ♡✧౨ৎ

as the summer approaches, so does a shift in your relationship with wanda

see what’s under that attitude [ 7.1k ] ♡✧౨ৎ

wanda intends to keep the promise she made to you, but that doesn’t mean you won’t have to work to earn it

burning brighter than the sun [ 6.4k ] ♡✧౨ৎ

the annual maximoff memorial day barbecue has finally come, but so has a softer side of your dominants

it was never mine [ 13.4k ] ♡✧౨ৎ

as your year long contract with natasha come to an end, all the feelings you’ve been trying to ignore come to the surface. you didn’t think they were yours to lose in the first place, but you’d never been so wrong in your life

two people understand each other [ 5k ] ♡✧౨ৎ

in an attempt to get wanda’s attention, you end up warming the strap you hoped she’d fuck you with.

too in love to think straight [ 7.4k ] ✧౨ৎ

when you mention to your dominants that you want to further explore the dynamics of your relationship, they’re all for it

love is a ruthless game [ 10.8k ] ♡✧౨ৎ

it’s been months since natasha’s submitted to her wife, but that’s about to change. you’re lucky enough to watch the entire scene unfold

the best thing that’s ever been mine [ 7.2k ] ♡✧౨ৎ

when you take the dogs to the park, jealousy takes control when wanda gets too comfortable with someone else.

song in the car [ 5.5k ] ♡✧౨ৎ

wanda just wants to check that you’re not lying, but you can only keep yourself together for so long before you beg natasha to fuck you in the car

you are in love au ♡ ✧ 🂱 ౨ৎ

when wanda and natasha decide to add a third party their marriage purely, they don’t expect to form a romantic connection with you. they especially don’t expect for you to hate wanda.

its all my love ♡ ✧ 🂱 ౨ৎ

when you start to develop feelings for your strict slavic language professor, the relationship doesn’t come without strings… or another woman

MARIA HILL — parts will be added as written

i cant promise picket fences [ 2k ]

maria’s always been married to her job, but lately she’s been married to the idea of a future with you

WANDANAT X CAPTAIN HILL — parts will be added as written

what did i say [ 3.6k ] ♡✧౨ৎ

the four times you fucked up and called your doms by the wrong name

know my place ♡ ✧ 🂱 ౨ৎ

you spend your nights wrapped up in four different sets of sheets, but graduations approaching, and what you have won’t last forever

COLLECTIONS

spring fling

[ m ] — asks

[ ꔫ ] — asks

[ ⧗ ] — asks

[ ➳ ] — asks

[ ⧗ꔫ ] — asks

[ ꔫ ] — drabbles

[ ⧗ ] — drabbles

[ ⧗ꔫ ] — drabbles

#masterlist ౨ৎ

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myladysapphire · 4 days

Text

My Lady Strong (VI)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 3,100

CW: MDI 18+, toxic relationship, manipulation, mommy issues, bullying, co-dependancy issues, self harm, not beta read.

Fem!oc x dark!Aemond Targeryen

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclamer: i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC

A/N sorry its been so long! forgot wehat direction i was going in with this story so going off the few notes i had left about this chapter! might be a few changes ive made from the last few chapters, but hopefully it all makes sense! but this story is gonna get dark and sad!

Aemma had been pacing back and forth for the last hour, nerves clear on her face as her mother and brothers were set to arrive in only a days time. She hadn’t spoken to her in what had felt like forever, and she had no idea on what too expect. She thought that perhaps she might have done something but thinking back on the countless letters she had written, she could not think of a single thing she could have possibly said. Perhaps taking Aemond’s side at Driftmark, or perhaps refusing to leave his side after the fact.

She had made her complaint to Aemond, the morning after they had reconnected, he had simply laughed, “oh Aemma, do you really think your mother cares about you? She happily sent you of to wed me the second it was suggested.” He said as he brushed her hair for her, having dismissed her ladies so they could break their fast. “if she cared about you she would have demanded I got to Dragonstone, not you here, she simply wished to be rid of you.”

Aemma looked down, she refused to believe it, her mother had always preached how she was her favourite child, then again, after Driftmark her mother did just send her away, she would have visited her more or asked her to visit if it was true. “Really?” she asked tears in her eyes.

“oh of course” he smirked, “but do not worry dear, soon enough you shall be my wife and she will no longer have to even act as if she cared for you, and you will not have to care for her either.”

She shook her head, and looked up at him, meeting his smirk in the mirror “do you think she loves me still?”

“no” he replied instantly.

A tear fell from her eye “do you love me?” she near begged.

Aemond’s smirk widened, his eyes twinkling, “of course” she turned her head, and he instantly gripped her chin, “and you love me, don’t you?”

“no” she replied. His grip tightened slightly, “I do not know what it is to love Aemond, but perhaps…once we get to know each other more.”

He frowned. “We have known each other our who lives”

“Yes, but these past years we have been distant, I know nothing of you”.

“And whose fault is that” he said stepping away, “was it not for that bastard I would still have my eye! And you would love me!”

She stood up, following him, “how does-“he stopped her, turning around quickly to face her.

“Because it does!” he almost whined, “you were mine! And then you were handed to me on a silver platter and yet all you have done is whine about your mother and your stupid brothers!” he took a breath, allowing her an opportunity to speak.

“I begged to stay with you Aemond, I defended you and –“

“And you begged them to stay also!” she looked at him, she had never told him of the conversation with her mother.

“How do you know that?” she asked bewildered. “and what does that have to do with anything?”

“everything!” after what they did to me, to YOU! And you wanted them to stay” he shook his head, “I went to find you, I needed you and you were begging your mother to stay? Do you think I could forgive you?”

“Aemond-“ she was crying now.

“these past years I have grow into the man I knew you wanted, not the silly little boy you grew up with, but the man you need, my mother has been nothing but a mother to you, and yet you still crave that whore and those bastards”

“I’m sorry Aemond. “she said, reaching for his hands, “your right, I am so sorry, I just wanted my muna, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She caressed his hand, “but I didn’t want too lose you or her and yet I lost you both!” she whined, “I needed you too!” she cried, wrapping her arms around his waist.

She needed him. Aemond smiled, “goo. because I am all you will ever and have ever needed.” He said holding her to him, “your mother is here in formality over, and at the end of the week she will be nothing to you, I will be your everything, your husband, your protector, your Aemond.”

“And let me remind you sweet Aemma, that without me you would remain Lady strong, a princesses bastard. And yet you betrayed me, begged for our tormentors to stay and if that had happened do you think I would have been able to devote these past five years to becoming your protector, to become the man you desired?”

She shook her head.

“They were cruel to you, hated you. All because your mother favoured you, do you think they will have changed?”

She shook her head again, and started to think back, growing up all she had ever wanted was to marry Aemond, and have him be her protector and never have to see Jace and Luke again.

She had thought that after Driftmark she would never get that Aemond, he had changed the second that eye was taken from him. He became cold and cruel and there was even whispers he was mad.

“but-“she started to speak, a part of her felt like he had turned into them.

He had tormented her for years and now he seemed to be perfect for her. It didn’t make sense.

“But what?” he asked, suddenly moving closer to her.

“you have been cruel, ignoring me then you started to torment me, sending me the heads of Aemma’s roses, as if you were threatening me.”

He shook his head, “I don’t know what your talking about”

“yes you do!”

“no Aemma, your confused, I sent you Aemma’s roses, to show I was thinking of you , and I never cut there heads of” he laughed, “and I only ignored you as I felt so hurt by what you did”

“i- but you cut of-“ she shook her head, “I-I I’m so confused, Aemond I- perhaps I should ask Cassandra, she has a better memory than me –“

“no Aemma, your just misremembering, you’ve always had trouble with remembering things” he said, “and do you not trust me?” he said sounding sad.

she shook her head, “of course not- I, just I thought you hated me for whatever reason and now I must have thought your acts were of torment and not …love” she said unsure.

“it okay Aemma, I know you struggle and I know you have always had difficulties with things” he said softly, “I was hurt and scared you would hate me too, I should have been more upfront, it is all my fault” he said, pulling her into a hug, “I know you are sorry, and I am too”/

He wasn’t, he loved the look on her face when she opened the box of cut of Aemma’s rose heads, loved the way she was scared, but he also realised years of ignoring her had made him seem untrustworthy, and he feared he made a mistake, he had a new strategy to play. At first he wantec her to be scared and run to him for help, but it seems her ladies and beloved Cassandra had gotten in the way of that plan, and made him the villain.

He supposed he had to get them out of the way.

Since that conversation, Aemond had made sure she did not leave his side.

Saying how he missed her dearly, and realising how much he needed her and pushing her away had hurt him more than it hurt her.

She had felt so badly for him, and before he knew it they were back to their old habits, were she went he went, she would even ask him too choose all her clothes, even serve her dinner.

She forgot how simple life was with Aemond, how happy and easy he made her life.

And Aemond was loving it, he loved getting to control every detail about her, she would dress how he liked, believing it her choice to let him pick, she would follow him everywhere, meaning he no longer had to follow her.

The only problem was that her ladies maids were still in the way. They ere there when she woke, and dressed, giving question stares as he would enter her rooms, whispering in her ear about things Aemma would never reveal.

He wasn’t jealous just angry.

He had been hurt all those years ago and ignored her because he wanted to be better. Become the best possible Aemond, become her protector and a man who would never again loose his eyes to is silly little nephews, and someone who would never let them hurt Aemma again.

And it was blatantly obvious that his ignoring of her head made her annoyingly close to her little friends.

He had hidden letters from her mother the first year, then they came less and less, before stopping altogether. He would allow a few of Aemma’s letters to be sent, not before reading them himself. He wanted her too feel isolated, but that had failed, and now it would be too suspicious for Aemma to receive the letters her mother had sent over the years, especially as he had read them all and hated the love his sister had for her daughter, hated that no matter how hard he wanted to hide it, her mothers return would only pull them apart once more.

So he realised the game of isolation needed to change and to get ride of the Ladies he must earn their trust, so he wooed them, by sitting in at their gatherings and showing undivided devotion to Aemma, there was still the issue of Cassandra Baratheon. She despised him, and he here. She was brash and loud, and Aemma’s best friend.

He wasn’t jealous, no, not at all. Not jealous of the way she effortless laughed at her jokes or talked to her without having the perplexed and wanted to please look in her eyes that’s she did with him.

He watched the bitterly as they chatted the day away. She seemed to light up around Cassandra, and he hated it.

“Are you nervous about you mother and brothers return?” Cassandra asked, sipping her tea.

“yes, especially my mother” she sighed, stirring her tea “I did receive a letter from my brothers this morning” she reviled, much to Aemond’s surprise. He had ordered all letters addressed to Aemma be sent to him straight away, how this had escaped him – “I had waited in the ravenry for a reply for my letter, and one had just arrived when I got there.” She reviled, answering what Aemond was wondering.

“what did it say?” Cassandra and Aemond asked simultaneously.

“Luke and Jace were asking about how I am , and saying they were sorry if their actions in our youth and wish for us to reconnect upon there return.” She replied.

“you will do no such thing” Aemond spoke, standing up.

“And why not?” Cassandra asked, clearly unhappy at Aemond.

“because of how they have always treated her!2

“oh please, they were children!” Cassandra spoke, now standing alongside Aemond, “ they have apologized and wish to know there sister, and from what Aemma has told me, I and my sisters have done far worse to each other than they did to her!”

Aemond scoffed, “please, they were bullies, they locked her in the black cells!”

“they- they what?” Cassandra asked, no looking towards Aemma.

“i- its true they did, but they have apologised incessantly since then.” Aemma said, trying to diffuse the situation, “they are my brothers, and they.. they said sorry”

“You still have nightmares Aemma” Aemond spoke, now moving back to his seat and taking her hands in his.

This perplexed Aemma she had never not once told Aemond of her dreams, especially of that night, he himself had always felt partly responsible for it, having taken so long to find her, and having left her alone that night. “what?” she asked, “I never told you about my dreams…”

Aemond flinched sightly, realising his mistake, and Cassandra herself took on an angry expression, “how do you know of those dreams Prince Aemond?” she asked, moving herself closer to Aemond and Aemma, as if to protect her.

“i- she is to be my wife, I only took a concern when the guards said she would often wake screaming.” He said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“but that still-“ Aemma started, slowly removing her hands from Aemond.

“don’t concern yourself too much Aemma I simply stood guard to ensure you did not try to harm yourself.”

Aemma flinched, Aemond cant know about that, no one does. Not even her maids. She had always kept her arms covered, he cant know.

Her eyes betrayed her, showing a scared expression, an expression both Aemond and Cassandra took to be scared about hurting herself.

“I – I” she stuttered, “I don’t know what you-“

“don’t worry Aemma, nothing bad happened, and your brothers wont get anywhere near you” Aemond spoke.

Aemma nodded, trying to mask her own fear of Aemond potentially knowing her secret to make it look like she feared her brothers.

Her parents were set to arrive on the morrow, and All Aemma could do was twist and turn. Dreams had been plaguing her. Ever since the black cells she has been getting premonitions, dreams of what was to come, dreams that have come true.

She supposed she was lucky, Helenas dreams caused her to speak in riddles, some even called her mad. When in truth Aemma was the one who was mad. She scratched and bleed as she dreamed, tearing at the skin on her arm. Her hands felt like they were soaked in blood, her nails turned red, as she scratched and teared. She dreamt of herself, she was married with children, but one was dead. She killed him. She must have, blood was on her hands, on her dress her face. Her other children cowered in the corner, flinching away from her.

“a son for a son!” she woke up gasping, the words ringing in her head.

Her bed sheets were stained in her blood, her arms scarred. The wounds from her last dream only just having healed.

She couldn’t help it, it was if her only escaped from her dreams was to harm herself. Perhaps it had been the three years of isolation she had felt so alone, where the dreams controlled her. She would send days and days tuck in the loop. Until one day her mother wrote to her of needing alliances and how her and Alicent had chosen her ladies. Her ladies had saved her, Cassandra specifically. She would wake her up, help her dress, and for once Aemma had a reason to escape her dreams. But then Aemond’s neglect and ignorance of her had turned cruel, calling her “my lady strong”, a name he had only just stopped calling her.

But something haunted her as she paced around her chambers, Aemond’s torment had put a stop to her dreams, the dreams were there was no dancing dragons, or no blood-soaked hands and gowns. Instead the dreams were of dragon snapping dragons neck, storm soaked nights and screams. And then since this week her nightmares have been full of crying, begging and blood. And now this.

It seemed no matter what her life would be full of tears and screams, and death.

“Aemma.” Cassandra said, walking into her chambers, alongside the rest of her ladies, Cerci Lannister, Cerelle Costayne, Margaret Fossway and Rosia Tyrell.

She had not slept since being awoken from her dreams, she had bathed and dressed, applied ointment to her scares, and had proceeded to pace her rooms nonstop.

She was worried, her mother would be here soon, and she had no ideas what she would be like.

She knew nothing of her, and she feared her mother may no longer love her. And well she was nervous about her wedding, and the wedding night. Aemond and Alicent had told her about it in the past week, and she was scared. And she just needed her Muna.

“how are you feeling?” Cersi asked.

“I am nervous” she admitted.

“of course, you will be wed on the morrow, you are bound to be nervous” Margaret added.

“well i-“

“but think, you will get to marry someone who loves you!” Rosia gushed.

“yes you are so lucky!” Cerelle complained, she had received news yesterday of her father engaging her to some man who had been married twice before and she had never met.

“oh Cerelle, he’s old hell probably die before you can wed.” Aemma said nonchalantly, and Cassandra laughed as she watched Aemma gasp at her own words. “sorry, just today the first time I will see my mother and brothers in years. I’m nervous”

Cassandra grabbed her hand, caressing home gently, “it’ll be okay, I’m sure.” She then looked to Cerelle “ and Aemma’s right, he’s what eight and seventy, he could croak at nay moment!” they all laughed, and for the first time that day Aemma’s mind was finally taken of what was to come.

She stood in the courtyard wating for their arrival, alongside her stood alone, Alicent having to have leave only moments ago to take care of something. She had done all her wedding planning with Alicent, she had comforted her when she cried over her mothers lack of care over her wedding, and visiting her despite her countless letters over the years. But Alicent seemed nervous, as if she was waiting for something or scared of something, and even more so when she had to leave.

After a few moments a carriage finally arrived in the courtyard, and her mother was the first to step out.

She wanted to run to her, to hug her and tell her how she had missed her. But her dream, it rang in her head.

“A son for a son” that all she could hear, and a voice in her head told her it was her mother’s fault, that her mother would force her to kill her son. She didn’t want to think it, but her mothers face, her blood soaked hands and a headless child was all she could see.

She made her way slowly walking down the steps the greet them.

“muña, lēkia” she greeted, a smile gracing her face. “welcome home”

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californ1asnow · 7 months

Text

All Too Well - Mike Schmidt x Reader angst

part two here Reader has trauma from neglectful parents that leaves her constantly in the, “I can fix him mentality,” paired with obvious daddy issues. Slight trigger warning for physical abuse?

Word count 2k+

loosely based on the song, “All Too Well,” by Taylor Swift

Hurt no comfort

Subtle static hums in the background, enveloping the room in near-silence. The moon, having ascended to its rightful spot in the night sky, bathes Mike's house in a gentle, luminous glow that seeps through his curtains. Your body is entwined in the embrace of silk bed sheets, lying in quiet anticipation beside him. The familiar sensation of his gentle breath tickling lightly against the nape of your neck.

A month has passed since the nightmarish ordeal of Mike's former job. Through it all, you have stood by him with everything, and that loyalty has persisted since the aftermath. After his departure from Fredy's, Mike's night terrors have taken a darker turn, far worse than anything he had experienced before. You've attempted to gently coax the truth from him in the past, but he never divulged the full extent of his nightmares. It didn’t really matter to begin with, instead what truly matters is ensuring his sanity once he wakes up from these tormenting dreams.

You’d met Mike a few years ago after moving into the house next door. Looking for a new babysitter, he had offered you the job of watching Abby while he was away, and you agreed without hesitation. Gradually, the three of you formed a tight-knit bond, uniting through shared experiences of lacking any parental figures. Abby particularly admired you in various ways, given the absence of a strong female role model in her life.

Your relationship with Mike is, well, complicated. Sometimes the both of you would swear your bond is entirely platonic, absolutely nothing but friends. Defending swiftly against Abby’s claims that you two are secretly in love. However, the stolen gazes and lingering touches beg to differ. The line that marks the difference between friendship and romance is hazy, leaving you to wonder about the true tone of your relationship. Neither of you had crossed the physical line that tread into a more amorous kinship, so you could argue that there aren’t any subtle intimate undertones. But, your current situation doesn’t help that defense.

Your gaze is fixated upon the ceiling, circling through the darkness. Mike’s arms are wrapped securely around your waist, like an anchor thrown to sea, cementing you to your spot next to him. He’s recently ditched the need for his nature sounds, instead opting to listen to your heartbeat in an attempt to fall asleep.

It started right after he left the security job, claiming that he was done trying to relive the same dream every night.

“How are you going to fall asleep then?” You had asked him, brows furrowed and questioning.

He stopped for a moment, pondering your question intently. That thought hadn’t crossed his mind yet, and now that you mentioned it he couldn’t think of a tangible way to do it. Frowning, he looked back up to you with a shrug.

A soft sigh escaped your lips. It was troubling enough having to watch Mike struggle the past few years with his sleeping, and knowing it’s going to get worse made you uneasy. You glanced away from him before speaking, “You know, I read somewhere about how listening to the heartbeat of someone you trust helps calm the fight or flight response in your brain…” Words trailing off in a futile attempt of masking your embarrassment, your cheeks flushed pink.

From that suggestion, it became a nightly routine. Although you lived next door, you had been spending the last few weeks laying in Mike’s bed. Letting him drift asleep to the sound of your steady heart, with his head pressed comfortably against your chest. Once you were sure he was asleep, you’d slip away either to his couch or back into your own bed at home. You couldn’t complain about it though, the warmth in your stomach that rose from his touch wasn’t something you necessarily wanted to give up on. You’d forgo everything if it meant he could be happy.

Just as you were about to make the move to leave, you feel him stir next to you. The sound of frantic mumbling pulling you away from your thoughts, and when you turn over to face Mike you find that he’s contorted with panic. Eyes still shut, he’s trashing in his sleep, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. The hand closest to your own starts to twitch wildly, and you begin to realize he’s having another nightmare.

Waking him up during one of his nightmares is essential. You know how much it torments him to relive the same traumatic memories repeatedly night after night. Your gentle touch is the only lifeline connecting him back to reality. With a soft grasp of his shoulder, you nudge him lightly, whispering his name. “Mike,” your voice is gentle, attempting to lull him peacefully awake, “it’s just a dream, wake up.”

Mike’s eyes snap open wide, dark with terror. Frantically, he searches the room for danger, still stuck temporarily in a flashback. His chest rises and falls heavily, breath ragged and uncontrolled.

Hurriedly, he shoots up into a sitting position, ready to defend himself against a potential threat. Your heart breaks into a million pieces seeing him so upset. “You’re home,” you tell him, a hand reaching out to grasp onto him.

Suddenly, the weight of your mistake dawns upon you. In a swift motion, his fist hurtles towards you, and you barely manage to dodge it, swiftly ducking to avoid the blow.

The rate of your defense isn’t fast enough compared to his attack, and you catch the tail end of his clenched fist. A yelp of pain sounding from you, immediately bringing Mike out of shock.

When his eyes finally adjust to the darkness, he sees you sitting on the edge of his bed, back turned to him. His gaze snaps down to his hand, still closed in a shaking fist. Regret instantly flooding his system, he calls out your name nervously. Without turning around, you wave him off dismissively.

He moves off the bed, crouching down in front of you. Staring up at you from his position, he can’t see your face that’s burrowed behind hesitant hands. Warm fingers wrap gently around your wrists, asking for permission to move them. “Please,” he begs, “let me see, I’m so sorry.”

Instinctively, you let him pull your hands away, revealing the damage he had accidentally inflicted upon you. A dark crimson trickles down your chin, flowing from the split of your bottom lip. Mike’s thumb gently glides across the swollen skin, his touch feather light.

He fully sinks to his knees, a muffled sob wracking his body. He can hardly bring himself to face you, to face what he did to you. Accidental or not, he inflicted pain onto you, something completely opposite from what he’d promised to do.

Your eyes well up with hot tears seeing how upset Mike is. You let a gentle hand grasp at his chin, tilting his face upwards so that he’s forced to catch your gaze. “Mike,” your voice is as tender as you can will it to be, “I’m okay, I promise. It was not your fault.”

Broken apologies fly from his mouth, ignoring your statement completely. His mind was too focused on the bruise that’s sure to form rather than what you have to say.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice trembling.

“Stop,” you tell him softly, trying to get him to calm down.

“I’ll fix this, let me fix this. God, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’m not angry with you, it’s okay.”

You pull him up from his spot on the floor. Shaky arms wrapping around his middle, all the while he’s protesting against the idea of you being close to him again.

“It was a nightmare, you were just having a nightmare. I shouldn’t have grabbed you so suddenly, I should’ve known better. Please stop blaming yourself.” Your voice comes out more timid than you would have liked it to. Deep down you knew he never would have done that consciously, but you couldn’t stop the anxiety from overtaking you completely.

Your need to take care of Mike in his frantic state is more overbearing than the one to help yourself.

He knows this too, and whether he’s doing it intentionally or not, he’s been clinging to that notion for the past few years. He’d let you just close enough that you’d give him the comfort he wanted, but pushed you away when you became too attached. Keeping you at arm's length was enough to satisfy whatever comfort he’s been deprived of most of his life.

But now he realizes how much of a mistake it all was. You are hurt because of him. Because he’s been too wrapped up in his own issues to see how any of this could have affected you in the slightest. And now that it’s glaringly obvious, he can’t stand to keep you dangling like this.

He mutters your name regretfully, causing you to break your hold and look up at him. “You need to leave,” his voice is weak, strained from crying.

You shake your head in disapproval, “Mike I don’t think that’s a good idea-“

“You can’t be around me anymore!”

Silence. That’s all you could respond with to his raised voice. Mike had never yelled at you, or Abby for that matter, and hearing it is startlingly different from his usual tone.

Years of repressed memories come back flooding you like a tidal wave. All of the moments you locked yourself away in your room because you couldn’t deal with the screams of an angry parent anymore, it hit like a ton of bricks.

Your immediate action is to pull the pieces back together and fix everything. You could do that.

You must have done something wrong if he’s yelling at you, right?

“Wait, wait, wait,” desperately you start to plead with him, “I did something wrong. Don’t do this, please.”

“Just go, please.”

“No, I can’t. There has to be something-“

“Go.”

His volume is lowered but his words cut just as deeply. You know there’s no point in arguing now, his mind is clearly made up.

Solemnly, you get up without another word. Gathering what little you brought over, and you leave without saying goodbye.

—

You could just barely hold yourself together enough to walk through the front door of your house. Knowing you were secure behind your walls, free from the gaze of any onlooking neighbors, you collapse entirely against the wooden floor of your home.

Everything replayed in your mind on loop, from the moment you woke Mike up to his last few words. The confusion, anger, resentment, and sadness fueled the hot tears running down your face.

You feel like a tiny child again, curled up in a ball sobbing as silently as your body allows you to be. Left to be wondering why it’s always your fault that people are upset, and how you can change it so they aren’t.

You think about your relationship with Mike, wondering if it’s truly over now. All you ever wanted to do was help him, so why did it feel like you’re the one being punished?

It was as if you were stuck in that position on the floor forever, caught in a web of remembrance. Every aspect of your so called friendship with Mike questioned intently in your mind.

You think he might have tried calling you a few times the days after that incident, but your phone was set to silence and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at it. Despite the burning urge to check up on him and Abby, you kept your distance.

Time had moved too slowly when you needed it the most. Healing wounds won’t close when they’re constantly torn open the second you step outside the house and spot Mike’s across from yours. The best you could do is to keep busy with work and avoid staying home as much as possible. You made sure Mike couldn’t catch you in person to talk, and with your phone rejecting his calls it had been months since you last heard from him.

Guilt gnaws at the back of your mind. It shouldn’t take a fight like this to undo years of close connection between you two so quickly. But you felt like there was no other option, he had told you to leave him and you did.

The only thing you’re left with is your hurt and his memories, forever replaying in the back of your mind.

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #angst #hurt no comfort #Mike schmidt x reader angst #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #taylor swift #all too well #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x y/n #josh hutcherson

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