#So when he calls him silly or asks him to dance he’s not being naive he knows there’s danger | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

donutloverxo · 3 years

Text

Good little wife

Note - Inspired by a request I got long ago and written for the happy hoelidays challenge I'm cohosting with my sister hoes @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18 . I used the prompts two idiots in love + Character A loves Christmas. Character B hates it. A melts Bs cold heart Dividers by @firefly-graphics .

Summary - Your husband makes up to you for being a Grinch and a meanie to you throughout your marriage.

Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), dub con, older man/younger woman, arranged marrige, leaking nudes, daddy kink, blood play, virginity/innocence kink, loss of virginity, virgin reader, painful sex, misogyny, mob activities.

Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 8k

“You look beautiful, cookie,” your mother raved, pressing her lips to your cheek, “He’s a lucky man.”

You only hummed. Staring at your refection, seeing someone you didn’t even recognize.

Your white lace dress somewhat conservative, still really pretty, something you would’ve been more than happy to wear if your circumstances weren’t so depressing.

You almost let out a sardonic laugh, you didn’t get to choose your husband but at least you chose your wedding gown.

“It’ll be alright,” your mother picked at your hair, noticing your evident sadness, you’ve never been one to hide how you feel anyway, “you’ll learn to love him. He’s very successful.”

“I always thought ‘money doesn’t make you happy',” something she had said to you so many times over the years.

“That’s just a fairy tale. People fall out of love, run out of things to talk about, men cheat, in the end all that’s left is how well he can provide for you,” she stated.

You checked your phone as soon as you could, going through your messages to see if your boyfriend, or rather your now ex boyfriend, had sent you anything. You still naively hoped that he'd come on a white horse and sweep you off and away, so you wouldn’t have to marry someone you’ve else. So you wouldn’t have to give up your freedom forever and just be someone’s wife.

But you saw nothing. He hadn’t talked to you, not since your father found out about you both. Since he was from a family your daddy hated with a passion, and you were supposed to as well, your father made you cut all times with him. Locked you in your room in a timeout till you came to your senses.

After over three weeks he came to you, telling you how he was ready to forgive you and move on. You were so happy. For a minute you let yourself believe that this was your father, he loved you unconditionally, of course he'd set aside whatever vain feud he has and let you be with your love.

All your hopes were crushed when he told you he had selected a husband for you whom you have to marry in just a month. That you had to drop out of college since you wouldn’t need that degree anyway.

You always did believe that he had your best interests at heart, you wanted to believe it this time as well, but you just couldn’t.

Cringing inwardly when he kissed your cheeks, “You look beautiful,” he told you, cold eyes staring at you, “Don’t try anything stupid. Andrew is a good man,” he looped your arm in with his.

“He’s more than a decade older than me,” you argued, biting your lip as he squeezed your arm to warn you.

You slapped a fake smile on your face, walking down, one step after another as everyone looked at you in awe.

This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life...

But when you looked at Andy waiting for you at the alter you felt nothing but grave anxiety which made your teeth clatter, his palms joined together at his front, he did look handsome with his tux and neat beard. You have had a crush on him for a long time but you’ve never even had a real conversation with him, you didn’t know him. No one did.

Your heart filled with dread as your father handed you over to Andy, patting him on his shoulder, “Take good care of her.”

“I will,” Andy smiled.

You weren’t really there, maybe your body was but your soul had left you to maybe make the whole ordeal less painful. The priest read the vows asking you if you were ready to take him as your husband forever.

“I do,” since you had no other choice.

“I do,” he repeated.

You felt a shiver jolt up your spine when his fingers grazed yours, putting the thin silver band on your finger before lifting your veil to press his lips to yours, giving you a chaste, barely there kiss as everyone cheered you on.

The rest of the evening was a blur, you could barely register what had happened, everyone sweetly calling you ‘Mrs Barber’ only making you more nervous.

Andy however, was cordial and formal as always, shaking their hands and thanking them.

Since you hadn’t really taken any dance lessons you were left to simply wing it with him at your first dance. With your clammy hands in his you tried to match his pace as he lead you, bumping into his feet with yours more than once.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Relax,” making you shudder.

You looked up at him, he had barely said two words to you but your grandmother often said ‘Eyes are the windows to the soul’.

And Andy’s eyes were so... kind, like a blue ocean you could happily drown in. He almost looked at you as if he were fond of you.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad...

You didn’t really expect Andy to carry you over the threshold, that was just a silly little fantasy you’ve always had and you knew he’d never indulge you in it but he didn’t even hold the door open for you.

You looked around his condo, so grey and boring, looked like it was out of a magazine catalogue, you felt so out of place there.

Naturally, you followed him to his bedroom, watching him wake his coat off, followed by his cuffs as he rolled his sleeves up.

You went over what you wanted to say in your head, how do you tell your husband that you’re a virgin, on your wedding night--that was something your grandmother never gave you advice on. You could’ve used her wisdom then.

With your mouth suddenly dry you tried to speak as he poured himself a drink, “Um... I’ve...”

“What?” he looked at you, quirking a brown brow up.

“Nothing,” you shook your head as you took a seat on the edge of the bed. “This is a nice house.”

“You can take the guestroom,” he said bluntly.

“What?”

“You can take the guestroom. I’ve already put all your bags there, you can decorate it however you like but don’t touch anything else.”

“But I...I’ve never heard of husband and wife sleeping in different rooms.”

“That’s true, it is unusual. This is not a normal marriage though, is it?” His tone so frustratingly patronising, as if he was talking to a child.

You’ve never really been appreciated for your mind, women never are--not where you come from, even your love Alex only ever thought of you as a ‘pretty face’. But Andy didn’t need to spell it out for you, “You... don’t want me...” you realised.

He only scoffed. He’d never been one for long term relationships, he had tried but he could never give himself to another person, women often called him emotionally unavailable, his demanding and dangerous job did contribute a lot to that, but more than that it was his unwillingness to change. He was self aware enough to know that but he didn’t need anyone else. He didn’t want to be tied down or to have a nagging immature wife.

“But why...” you wondered. Sure, you weren’t thrilled to marry him, but now you had accepted it and wanted to make the best of your new life. You thought he wanted the same.

“Why would I want you?” he spat. “ You’re nothing but a spoilt rich girl who’s had everything handed to her. Who was ungrateful and stupid enough to fraternize with the enemy.”

You let out a shaky exhale, looking at him with teary eyes, “I loved him...”

“You don’t know the first thing about love,” he rolled his eyes.

“He loved me too! But I’m willing to put that behind me. I made a vow to you.”

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” you frowned.

He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery to show you the compromising pictures you had sent to your ex, “He shared that with everyone, it was all just a ploy to humiliate your father.”

You gasped, taking his phone in your trembling hand, your breasts exposed as you shyly looked at the camera. You had flat out refused to send him a nude when he asked for it but then he threatened to break up with you, to go after your best friend, even called you a prude because you hadn’t slept with him. At the moment you felt as if you had no choice but to do it...

“He wouldn’t,” you sobbed.

“And because of your stupidity I had to marry you since no one else would ever want you,” he said. But then regretted it as you just started crying harder. He thought of maybe trying to console you but what would he even say?

He took the phone from you before you could even think of deleting the photos. He used them to pleasure himself almost every night. Maybe he was an idiot, he could have the real thing, yet he was pushing you away, “Go to your room,” he told you which made you sob even moreso.

You looked up at him, begging him for a hug, for some sort of comfort or sympathy but his face was cold and harsh. Finally gathering your wits you went to the other room, ready to cry yourself to sleep.

No matter how beautiful you were, you were still thrusted upon him, you didn’t love him, you never could because you never even had a choice

“Perfect,” you beamed, setting down the chicken pot pie you had just cooked up.

Your grandmama had always told you that a wife should be a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom. So that her man would never stray.

And while you hadn’t had a chance to be a whore for Andy... something that you were looking forward to, you hoped the fresh home cooked meal, the holiday season and decorations you had spent the past few days working on would put him in the mood. To maybe accept you as his wife.

For the past six months you had tried everything, making him breakfast, packing his lunch, offering him massages, even trying to help him with his work but he was always so cold to you.

You feared that this is how it will be forever. He would never love you, not the way you’ve always loved him. Even when he was so cruel towards you.

But you were nothing if not resilient. So you said chuck it and went all out. Decorating your whole house, with a real tree for the past few days while Andy was out on a work trip for thanksgiving. Maybe you could surprise him and he’d realise just how much he lucked out with you.

You even went with a more risqué outfit than you usually would. Your little emerald green skirt with pleats was a bit too short and impractical for the cold winters but you were going to stay inside anyway. It was topped off with a tight burgundy blouse and a push up bra which made your girls look enticing and some red pumps.

With a pumpkin pie for dessert in the oven, your salads done and the gingerbread flavored candles lit up you were good to go.

So you sat on the couch, watching 'A Christmas story' for the hundredth time to kill time till he gets home and to distract your nervous mind.

After ninety minutes the movie was over but Andy still wasn’t home. You tried calling him but it kept going to voicemail.

Frustrated, but determined to follow through with your ‘Seduce Andy Barber’ plan you put on another movie, chewing your lip till it bled as you impatiently waited for him.

Soon it was midnight, your food got cold and the rumbling in your tummy became more prominent so you decide to eat your dinner, put the leftovers in the freezer and cut your losses.

You were almost done with your dishes when your husband coming into the apartment, turning around you saw him hang his coat on the back of the chair and plomp down on it. He groaned, pulling the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal his bulky forearms.

“You’re home,” you said, taking off your apron so he could see your little get up.

He didn’t smile at you like you expected he would, he didn’t say ‘Good job’ like you thought he would. He certainly didn’t look like he wanted to bend you over the dining table and take you then and there. He simply frowned at you. Looking at you as if your mere existence offended him.

“I told you; you were allowed to decorate your room however you liked. Not the whole apartment,” he growled, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What? I did it for you... I thought you would like it, ” you stood there, dumbfounded, shifting from one foot to another, “You don’t like Christmas.” You realised.

“No, I don’t. Christmas isn’t all fun and jolly for everybody. I’ve never had anyone to celebrate it with,” he did you a once over, his pants tightening uncomfortably as he took in your little ensemble.

He had never had a single good Christmas in his whole life. He’d usually spend it either working or drinking. But now, he had you, his good little wife who had gone out of her way to do all this just for him.

He could kiss your red lips then and there, finally do what he’s been wanting to go for the past few months and make love to you, eat the delicious meal you had made him because he was fucking starving.

But then he realized how easily you could be taken away from him. How this was all so fickle.

“Do you want a divorce?” he crossed his hands over his chest, as if daring you to give a wrong answer, “If you do, I’ll give you one right now.”

“I - ” you strutted, you didn’t really know, “Daddy would never let that happen.” To which he scoffed.

Your father would kill you both if this marriage failed. He knew that, why would he still be willing to risk everything?

“Where are you going?” you asked when he got up from the chair.

“To my room, to sleep,” he sighed.

He knew what you would say, he knew you were daddy’s little girl who’d die before disappointing her father, which was solely why you were with him, and yet he let himself fall for you and get hurt.

You tugged on his shirt, ready to beg him to at least eat the meal you made for him but then you frowned, inhaling the feminine perfume from his shirt, mixed with his own Cologne, you took a step back, your eyes brimming with tears as you realised he might’ve been with another woman.

While you were home slaving away to make everything perfect for him.

Your father had a handful of mistresses, a few of them younger than you. Your mother knew, all wives know and look the other way. That was how it was supposed to be. It was how you make marriages last...

And your poor beaten heart could take his coldness towards you, it absolutely could not bear him being with another woman. Your father had always praised him for being loyal, and it was one of the things you loved about him...

“Where were you?” you sniffled to keep the tears at bay.

“I was out working. So I could pay for your shopping sprees.” He spat.

You gasped, “I haven’t gone shopping in months! I only did now for Christmas!”

“That tree better be down by the time I wake up. You can out all that crap in your bedroom if you like. I do not what to see it.” He said gravelly, before slamming his door shut.

Something was horribly wrong.

Andy came home to an empty, cold house. You weren’t there to greet him like you usually are, in fact you hadn’t been for the past few weeks. He could hear the TV from your room, some kind of musical playing.

He checked the kitchen for some food, you used to make dinner every night, rave about your love for cooking and baking, but now it seemed that you lived on poptarts and McDonald’s.

He knocked on your door, to ask if you wanted some of the alfredo he was cooking up, also to maybe get you to have dinner with him.

Ever since he had married you, he had such a beautiful companion to have dinner with. To watch silly romcoms with, someone who waited for him to come home, called him all worried when he was late, asked him how his day was

It’d break his heart to say good night to you, you’d give him those puppy eyes, fluttering your lashes as if begging him to invite you to bed with him.

He wanted to ask you to come, to feel what it would be like to snuggle up with your soft body, to smell your hair, to finally fuck you, but he’d just go away to sleep in his cold bed with a heavy heart. Making do with his hand as he thought of you, it wouldn’t feel nearly as good as you would but it would have to do.

“Can I come in, honey?” he asked.

Letting himself in when no answer came from you. You were lying on your bed, blankets draped over you, your eyes trained on the television. He looked around your room, he had only been there a couple of times, he had expected to see some kind of winter wonderland since you were such a fan of Christmas.

But it looked just how it usually did... pale pink walls, a queen sized bed, a small closet and a dresser and a vanity. No tree or fairy lights or nut crackers.

He leaned against the door frame. “Did you have dinner?” He wanted to know.

You made some sort of unintelligible noise; which could mean anything. So he asked, “Would you like some pasta? I can’t make it as good as you do but I’ll try.”

“No.” You answered. Still not even looking at him.

“It’s Christmas Eve, do you want to go celebrate with your family?”

You shook your head in response. “No, I think I’ll just stay here.”

He had stolen your brightness and sunshine away, tainting you with his darkness. “Stop it,” he scolded, switching off the TV and standing in front of you to make you listen to him. “Get ready, I’m dropping you off at your fathers. You’re not spending Christmas in bed.”

“What difference does it make?” you huffed.

“Get ready. Right. Now.” He ordered, pulling your blanket away from you.

“No!” you whined. Sitting up, your face heating up with a simmering rage you had harbored for months. “Why do you even care? Do you want to get me out of the house so you could spend Christmas with her?!”

“Who’s her?” he furrowed his brows.

“Your mistress!” you yelled, looking around for something you could hurt him with, you grabbed a hold of your Mrs Bunny, your cute pink stuffie and threw it at his face. “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re not bringing her in to my house!” You said, throwing another stuffie at him which he caught with his hand.

“Honey,” he said, as if he was so disappointed with you, for catching him in his lies and deceit. “I don’t have a mistress. Where would I even find the time for one? All those late nights were spent at the office or in meetings.”

He would be the world’s biggest idiot to get a mistress when he had a wife like you waiting for him at home. A wife he hadn’t even so much as even kissed... given how pouty and tempting your lips looked, he didn’t know how he resisted for so long.

“Don’t call me honey,” you puffed out your cheeks, “And I don’t believe you.”

“Well, what can I do to make you believe me?”

You sighed, laying back down on the bedding, “There’s not much you can do. Except leave me be. I just want to sleep this Christmas away.”

He had to do something to get your spirits up. And since you has thrown away your old decorations he ran to every store in the town, waiting in the queue for hours, calling in as many favors as he could to get some new ones.

While he wasn’t able to get a real Christmas tree, he got a fake one which was a bit smaller than the one you had put up but not all that bad.

You had decorated the apartment with the traditional red, greens and golden he decided to go with a soft pastel pink theme. Hoping that you would like it and forgive him.

He had gotten you couple of gifts, a little babydoll he saw on the internet, it was pink and sexy, he thought of you the moment he saw it. Ordering it for you but he never really gathered enough courage to ask you to wear it. He wrapped it up for you in some festive paper, tying a ribbon around it.

He decided to get as many gifts for you as he could so the tree wouldn’t look so depressing, a Tiffany’s set, an advent calendar from a make up company he knew you liked, a box of cookies and one of chocolates, a new apron with floral patterns and frilly trimmings, some cozy socks, and a surprise gift he had been saving for you.

Looking around the living room, while it wasn’t as good as what you had done with the place he was still proud of what he could pull off in just a couple of hours.

He called out your name before knocking and entering, switching on your bedside lamp he sat next to you, stroking your hair, “Wake up, angel.”

“Seriously, stop it with the petnames,” you said, your voice groggy from sleep and irritated. Because he had only ever said your name with contempt before.

“I’m not going to stop, honey. You’re my wife, I can call you whatever I like.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, rubbing your sleep away from your eyes.

“I have a surprise for you.” He smiled at you.

And while he had certainly smiled at you before that, when you had said something funny or silly (which you usually did just to see him smile), this one seemed so much brighter and warm.

“What is it?” you sat up. Still a bit crossed with him but excited to see what surprise he had for you.

“You have to come into the living room for that, and promise to stop being a Grinch,” he said, bopping your nose.

You scoffed incredulously, “I’m being a Grinch?! You were the one who made me take everything down in the first place!”

“I know, honey, and I am sorry for that. Hopefully I can make it up to you.” He winked.

You combed your hair, splashing some water on your face and then following him out to see what he had in mind for you.

You all but gasped at the tree in the middle of your living room, so beautiful, the soft glow of the fairy lights illuminated the room, little festive trinklets all over the room.

He had got you a pink stocking with sparkling silver hearts on it. His was a normal red one with ‘Andy' written with a sharpie or a pen. You giggled at that.

“You like it, honey?” he asked.

You nodded, observing the ornaments on your tree, “I do. Thank you so much, Andy. It’s so beautiful, I don’t think anyone’s ever done something so grand for me.”

Your rave gave him the courage to out his hand over your waist, pulling you into him, “I know this doesn’t make up for everything, but it’s start.”

“Yes! I think... I’d like a fresh start,” you beamed up at him

He excused himself to make some hot chocolate for you both, handing you a mug with little heart shaped marshmallows and sprinkles on top of it. You didn’t even realise how you ended up snuggled up next to him on the couch, Elf playing on the TV which he shockingly had never seen before.

“You know... for someone who hates Christmas so much you did a pretty good job saving it!” you giggled, kissing his bearded cheek.

“Well...” he looked down at you, wiping away the mustache the hot chocolate gave you before sucking his thumb off, “I don’t hate it anymore, because I’m not alone,” he said, his thumb pulling on your plump bottom lip.

“Um...” you face heated up as looked away, “You got me gifts!” you screamed a bit overzealous to change the subject, “Can I open one now? Please?! I’m just so excited!”

“Sure,” he murmured, a bit salty that he didn’t get the kiss.

He knelt next to you on the carpet as you pinked one up, shaking it next to your ear, scrunching your nose up so cutely as you tried to decipher what it was.

“Mmm... I can’t tell...”

“Why don’t you just open it?” he asked as his hand caressed your bare thigh, finding himself unable to keep his hands off of you now that he has you.

You ripped at the wrapping paper, opening the box to reveal the skimpy baby pink lingerie he had got you.

You pulled it out of the box and then started stammering, unable to form words once you realised what it was. “Is this... um..”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s very cute and nice. Do you, want me to wear it for you?”

“If that’s what you want,” he said casually and then shrugged but then regretted it as your face fell and you let. He wasn’t used to half-assing things if he was going to tell you his true feelings, he had to go all out.

Taking a deep breath, “I have to tell you something I’ve been meaning to say for months.”

“What?”

“I... love you,” he looked down at your lap, because he couldn’t bear to look in your eyes if you decided to reject him.

“Oh, Andy!” you beamed, “I love you too! I’ve always loved you,” you crawled on top of him, throwing your arms around his neck you hugged him.

“That’s good then,” he smiled stroking your back, he pulled you back so he could look at your pretty face, cupping your cheek he pressed his lips against yours.

He had only kissed you once, months ago at your wedding, and while it was not bad at all it was too short and formal and distant, nothing compared to how he felt right now. Moulding his lips against yours, kneading the flesh of your ass, you tasted just as sweet as he imagined you would.

You gasped in his mouth when he rutted his erection up into your core. “Andy!” your chest heaving as you felt him pressing against your thigh.

“What do you say you go put that on for me, doll? Hm?” he instructed.

You meekly nodded, grabbing a hold of the lingerie which you just now noticed was so sheer and would not really leave anything to the imagination.

“Come on out quickly now,” his impatience seeping through his voice as he sat on the edge of his, or what would now be both of your marital bed, one leg crossed over the other, his foot tapping against the floor.

His pants already snug, just from imagining what you would look like with the flimsy thing on. It wasn’t as revealing or kinky as some of the other pieces he had seen, but he felt it would match your personality perfectly.

He groaned, calling out your name again, “I’m gonna fucking die of blue balls, if you don’t come out right now, I’m coming in,” he got up to his feet to do just that but then stopped when he heard the knob twist.

One smooth leg peaking out of the bathroom, “Um... promise you wouldn’t make fun of me?” you asked. Your eyes screwed shut, you didn’t really have much of choice but you had never been so vulnerable in front of anyone. You’d hate to not be satisfactory for him.

“I promise,” his face softened, he had to practice some restrain, at least until he breaks you in, “Now come on out.”

You opened the door, your meek eyes fixed on your hardwood floor, your hands hugging your midsection. You blinked when he said nothing for several long, tortuous moments. Peaking a glance up at him you found him staring at you.

“Uh, do you like it?” you asked as your hands played with the helm of the teddy.

He almost scoffed. Like would be an understatement.

He knew pink would be your color. The nightie so short, clinging to your curves, your nipples pebbled against the satiny fabric, you looked like a sweet little doll and a whole fucking meal to devour at the same time. He would burst before he even got to touch you.

“Twirl,” he made the motion with his forefinger to demonstrate it, “Let me look at you better. And hands to your sides.”

You took a deep breath, letting your hands fall, doing as he had asked, your heart hammering in your chest because for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out if he actually liked you.

“Stop there,” he instructed when he got a look at your pert, round butt, the cloth barely covering it, he could see the imprints of the thong you wore.

“What are you thinking?” you asked.

“If I like your front better or your behind.” He almost chuckled at the incredulous gasp you let out. “Alright, look at me again.” Definitely the front, because he could see your beautiful face. Taking his original position on the bedding, “Come here,” he patted his lap.

Like the obedient wife that you aspired to be, you followed, perching yourself up on his lap, your arms around his neck for some support, looking into his lust blown, dark eyes.

You bite your lip when you felt that pressing into your thigh. Unable to bear his intense gaze you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

He hushed you, snuggling your soft body closer to his, his fingers drawing patterns on your hip, “How many men have you been with before?”

It didn’t really matter whatever your answer would be. But he wanted to tell you, that how ever many there were before him won’t matter anymore. From now on you are solely his.

“None,” you whispered so lowly that he almost couldn’t hear you.

“What?” Holding onto your chin so that he could make you look at him, “None? How is that possible?”

“I’ve just been waiting for the right one... I was going to with Alex but then didn’t...” you said as your hands caressed the coarse hair on his jaw.

He hummed, the fact that he would be your one and only, forever, only served to entice him further.

“Have you ever sucked a cock before?” he asked, although he knew the answer.

“No...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you,” he promised, pushing on your shoulders to make you get on your knees.

You hissed at the cold floor, biting into the your calves and knees.

His dainty princess, he grabbed a throw pillow, instructing you to put it under, all the while staring at your cleavage peaking out like a creep.

Your eyes were fixated on his crotch, eager to see what a real penis looks like. You had watched some porn when you were a teen, out of sheer curiosity, but your friends had told you to lower your expectations. That real ones are much smaller and not so aesthetically pleasing.

You all but gasped when he took his cock out of the confines of his sweats, slapping over his abdomen. So big... and thick, with two veins over it, a bright flushed tip leaking with pre-ejaculate, and some soft hair dusted at the base of it.

You tried to stop yourself but then couldn’t help it, your hand shyly touching his tip yanking it down and then releasing it to see what happens. As suspected it flew back over, hard against his tummy, making you giggled.

“Oh gosh...” you slapped a palm over your mouth to stop from laughing.

He scrunched up the hair on the back of your head, yanking your neck back so that he could look at you, “What’s so funny?” he growled.

“Nothing,” you gulped, “It’s all just so strange and new... and exciting...”

He hummed as he took in your words. Grabbing the base of his cock as he rubbed his tip and precum all over your cheeks till your face was positively glowing with his essence.

“You wanna taste it?” he asked, to which you eagerly nodded.

Nudging your pouty lips with his tips before tapping on them when you didn’t get the clue, “Open.”

“Oh,” you said before opening as wide as you could, his length easing into your mouth. You hummed around him, the salty unique taste of him you had never really known before and couldn’t get enough of now.

He was barely halfway through inside you when he touched the back of your throat, he tutted, “Relax your throat,” he told you.

You didn’t really know what he meant but you tried loosening up all your muscles. Choking around him when he pushed in a few more inches.

Most of him was still out but it was as good as it’s gonna get, not that he’d ever complain... no... your mouth was like heaven. He had only known his hand for the past year Or so, and your mouth was almost too much.

Holding onto your face to keep it in place he started thrusting upwards into you, his heart swelling with tears escaped your eyes but you still tried to take more of him, to please him like the good girl that you were.

He stopped his hips, gently slapping your cheek to get your attention, “You always look at me when my dick is in your mouth. Got it?”

Since you couldn’t talk with your mouth full of cock, you just nodded.

You peered up at him innocently, fluttering your lashes, popping him out of your sloppy mouth, “Am I doing it right?” because you truly couldn’t tell.

He chuckled, smoothening a hand down your hair, “More than right... it’s too good but I want to come in your pussy. Maybe I’ll make you swallow my load latter, what do you think?”

“Yes, I’d like that,” you licked your lips to taste more of him.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered.

“Um... can I go fix my face before that,” you rubbed your mouth with the back of your hand, you doubted you looked very pretty to him then.

“No,” he stated, pulling you up by your armpits and all but throwing you on the bed.

You yelped and tried to protest, “I wanna look good for you...”

He pushed your legs apart to make room for him, smirking above you, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat, his prey, “This really does look pretty on you...” he rubbed the flimsy spagetti strap between his fingers, “but it’s served it’s purpose.”

You screamed, holding onto his wrists as he ripped the babydoll in two pieces, revealing your breasts to him, he yanked at it, throwing the remains away.

“That’s much better,” he gritted, pinching one of your peaks, capturing it in his mouth and suckling at it to his hearts content.

You pouted as you looked at the torn cloth, a bit upset that he ruined his gift to you. “I really liked that...” you sniffled. But couldn’t really ponder because Andy’s ravenous mouth was sucking hickies all over your breasts.

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you ten more,” he bit into the side of your breasts, your mewls and whines were like music to his ears.

“Andy...” you heaved, “Don’t leave marks... I have to go to dinner tomorrow to moms...”

He stopped abruptly, propping himself up above you and you were afraid that you had upset him, “You’re my wife now, honey. Your father gave you to me,” his hand snaking down your body, between your legs, he parted your moist lips, the pad of his fingers meeting your little pearl, “I can do whatever I want with you,” he reminded you, pushing a finger into you, “This cunt is mine now, got it?”

“Yess...” you whined as you squirmed under him, the invasion of his finger inside you too alien to your body.

“Which means you ask for permission before you touch yourself, or better yet, don’t touch yourself because that’s my job,” he stated.

“Have you ever made yourself come?” he asked, trailing soft kisses down your body till he settled between your legs, moving the strong of the thing to the side so he could get a better look at your virgin pussy, adding another finger inside you, your snug walls clinging to his digits, “You’re so fucking small. Can barely fit my finger. How will you take my cock,” he teased.

He’d make you take it.

You whimpered at the sting of it, “I’ll try, daddy...” throwing your head back as you massaged your breast.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him when he stopped his ministrations, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he quirked a brow. “Do you realise what you just called me?”

You simply shook your head because you hadn’t really called him anything, “Andy?”

“No,” he huffed, “You called me daddy, honey.”

You gasped, you didn’t mean to say it out loud! “No...” you shook you head from side to side, trying to pull away from his fingers still knuckle deep inside you, “It can’t be!”

“Oh, but you did,” he laughed, “And you’re gonna say it again. In fact, from now on, when it’s just the two of us that’s the only thing that you will call me. Unless you wanna get punished...”

“Okay...” you said, still a bit unsure of it all.

You had always called him ‘daddy’ in your fantasies. It was maybe a bit expected for it to slip out like that but still so embarrassing. You said it again just to make sure that he actually wanted you to call him that and wasn’t just teasing you.

“Good girl,” he winked, latching his mouth around your clit, fucking you with his fingers as he kept sucking.

“Daddy...” you whined, biting on your hand to muffle some of your noises, a knot building up in the pit of your stomach, “Don’t stop, please!”

You gushed over his mouth, he lapped it all up, making sure nothing went to waste.

“You did good, honey,” he said, your cheeks heating up when you saw his beard glistening with your juices. He rolled your thong down your thick thighs, “You wear this to dinner tomorrow,” he told you. “Since I’m going to be a real husband from now on I pick out what you wear.”

All so he could see you in those pretty flowy dresses you wear sometimes, but you didn’t need to know that.

He hastily pushed his sweats and briefs past his hips, throwing them off the bed before pulling his t-shirt over his head.

You bit your lip at just the sight of him. His shoulders so broad, chest so wide, dark hair dusted all over his chest, you just knew then that all those hours he spent at the gym paid off, you knew he’d be ripped.

But you absolutely did not expect, someone as uptight as him to have numerous tattoos all over his torso.

Something inscribed in Sanskrit on his chest that you didn’t really understand... the logo of your family’s mob on just under his pectoral.

You sat up to get a better look at them, tracing a skull on his bicep that looked much less sophisticated than the others, the lines a bit scribbly, it was already fading.

“That’s the first one,” he interrupted you, “I was a kid back then, got my foster brother to do it.”

You pressed a kiss over it, “I love it.”

His blue eyes beamed at you, he was so beautiful...

“Now for your gift...” he circled your wrist bringing it down to his pelvis.

“Hm?” you looked down, tears brimming up in your eyes as you saw your name written on just beside his hipbone, next to his hard cock, standing tall against his stomach. In a small heart, dark ink against his pale skin, “When did you get it done?” you sniffles, touching his skin to feel the texture of the tattoo.

“A few weeks ago. I just... I’ve never belonged to anyone. Never had a family of my own. But now I have you, and you have me, I’m just as much yours as you’re mine,” he confessed, finally feeling the weight of it lifted off his shoulders. You were a blessing in disguise.

“I love you,” you beamed up at him.

“I love you too, doll, now come on,” he pushed you till you were on your back, “Daddy’s waited long enough. Can’t wiat to fill you up, make you mine.”

He planted a hand on the mattress, so he could see what he was doing to your virgin cunt, look at you and her, as he defiles you and makes you a woman, his thick manhood nudging your glistening lips as he eased into you, he felt you stretching around him, your face twisted in pain as you begged him to go easy on you, he halted when he felt your barrier.

He looked up at your pretty face, sparkling with his spend and your tears, your sweet little whimpers filled the room, he stayed still for a moment to let you get used to him, he knew he should take it easy.

His wife was a delicate, fragile, sweet little girl. He should be more gentle. A better husband and man would be. But he had his whole life to become a good man for you, tonight he just wanted to take what was rightfully his.

Letting out a deep, almost animalistic growl, piercing through your seal, your innocence till you were screeching, your nails drawing blood from the sides of his thighs.

“It hurts!” you screamed.

“It’ll only hurt for a little bit, doll. Just ride through it,” he cooed, stroking your sensitive clit to draw your attention away from the pain, he withdrew his hips before snapping them back till he was deep within your womb.

“You’re so snug, honey,” he grunted, not letting up his pace as he kept fucking into you,

A proud smirk gracing his face as he looked down to see himself covered in blood, a sticky mess of both your bodily fluids where your sexes were joined. His dick somehow grew harder inside you knowing how he took something from you that you’ll never be able to give someone else.

Slowly your crying and whining was subsiding as you got used to have him inside you, but he wanted to hear you scream for him in a different way. “Don’t you want to make your husband, no, your daddy happy, honey?” He asked, each word punctuated with a deep, harsh thrust into you.

You nodded, willing your tears away, cringing when you saw his crotch covered in your blood, “Yes I do, daddy. What do I do?”

“Your cute dumb brain always needs to be told what to do,” he chuckled, moving closer to you he circled his palms around your wrists, pinning them above you, “Wrap your legs around me.”

You followed along, wrapping your legs around his hips and hooking them together on his back. Closing your eyes when you felt your body seizing up, your pussy pulsating around his length when you felt the familiar feeling creep up on you.

“Look at me!” he barked and you immediately opened your eyes, “You look at me when I fuck you.”

You gulped and dared not close your eyes again. Even as you felt your orgasm wash over you, clenching around his length. His face was scrunched up, his neck, face and chest flush as he chased his own release till you felt his warm release coating your walls.

He collapsed above you, panting beside you he kissed your hair, “You liked that, babygirl?”

You let out a meek little yes. Feeling empty and void of his warmth and hardness when he pulled out of you before settling next to you.

“But...” you trailed off. Not finding it in you to bare yourself to him like that just yet.

“But what?” he whipped his head to look at you.

“But I’m sorry if I wasn’t very good!” Since you had simple laid there and took whatever he gave you. You had heard that men don’t like that...

“Don’t worry, honey, you were absolutely perfect,” he sighed. “You’ll get even better with practice, we’re gonna practice a lot from now on.”

You tried to cover your breasts up with the comforter, still awkward about being stark naked right next to a man, a man who looked as good as like Andy, but he swatted at your hands, reprimanding you and telling you to stay still and let him look at you to his hearts content.

Soon you felt your cunt throbbing back up again, still so raw from the loving Andy gave it, you tried rubbing your legs together to ease it a little bit.

“It still hurts?” Andy asked as you nodded.

He snaked a hand between your legs, massaging your little nub and your lips, tutting when you tried to pull away from his touch, “Shh I’m trying to make it hurt less.”

He hummed when he saw his seed leak out of you, pushing a finger in you, much to your displeasure, to keep it inside you, where it belonged.

He would make you go on some form of birth control as soon as he could. While the idea of you all round and plump with his kid was more than appealing, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else just yet. You were young, he had plenty of years to breed you.

“You’d make a good mother,” he wondered out loud.

“Hm?” you blinked at him. Squirming from the torture he was yielding on your overworked sex. His lips curled up in a twisted smile as he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping your blood on your soft nipples, painting them crimson as you shivered.

You looked at his cock, hard again against his stomach. “Does it hurt?” you asked, your hands twitching to touch it again.

“Yes, it does. Do you wanna help me get rid of the pain?”

“Mm... can I use my mouth again? I’m sore...”

“It’s okay, honey, you’ll get used to it,” he promised, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him, your palms pressed into his abdomen as you looked so wrecked, “Guide me in,” he ordered.

You shook your head which earned you a harsh slap on your ass so you held onto the base of his cock, parting your intimate lips, before slowly sinking down on him.

You sighed as you settled, sitting on top of him with his cock nestled inside you, so full and strangely satisfied, his warmth soothing your aching walls, he spanked you again to remind you to move, so you started bouncing on top of him the best you could.

His hand groped at your bouncing titts before he wrapped a hand around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure as you whimpered and cried, just to remind you who’s in charge, not that you’d forget anytime soon.

His only regret was that he hadn’t done this sooner. He was an idiot to ever resist an angel like you. He’ll have to do a lot to make up for lost time.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#happyhoelidays2020 #andy barber x oc #andy barber x y/n #steve rogers x reader #andy barber x reader #andy x reader #chris evans x reader #defending jacob fanfic #mob!andy barber

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pockcock · 3 years

Note

No thoughts. Pussy dwelling on Erwin's fingers edging you until you're a begging mess though. (Because let's face it, we all know the calluses on his hands feel like heaven when his tongue eases the feeling soon after-)

"whore mouth" // erwin smith x f!reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

word count: 2.4k

a/n: Oh god I'M SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG I'M SORRY I'M SORRYYYY :( This was supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away... Anyways. ENJOY <3

tw// porn with very little plot. impact play. slapping. jealous!erwin. sugardaddy!erwin. dom!erwin. sadist!erwin. edging. cunnilingus. breath play. dumbification. spitting. forced orgasm. slight blood. squirting. clit slapping. slight consensual non-con (reader and erwin have a dom/sub relationship). prey-predator if you squint. usage of "whore, slut, bitch". aftercare.

Erwin isn't the jealous type in your eye. He is a confident man, he is fierce. He is the CEO of the Corps Ltd. after all. He isn't jealous, people are jealous of him.

But the look he gave you at the party made you lose your ability to breathe.

He bought this black silk dress for you a couple of weeks ago. It arrived at your door by his assistant, Armin, a pretty young boy. He reminded you of Erwin, only young and naive. You felt incredible in the fabric, it felt as if the dress was made for you and you only. Everything was right about the dress. But you didn't have any opportunity to wear it. Until tonight.

"Here we are, madam," Armin spoke, his eyes met yours from the rearview mirror. It was obvious that he was having a hard time keeping his eyes away from your beautifully exposed chest and perky nipples showing through the dress. "Mr. Smith is waiting for you inside."

You thanked him and carefully got out of the car not letting your dress go even higher. As you entered the hotel where the party was being hosted, your eyes found your pretty CEO. Surrounded by his close friends Miche and Levi, he was laughing. He was wearing his brand new black Hermes set with a gold detailed Versace tie. Then he saw you, his whole expression changed. The bright, playful eyes turned into loving ones.

"My sunshine," he greeted you with open arms, calling you in. "She is finally here!"

You walked towards him. "Traffic hold me hostage!"

A little laugh escaped his lips as he hugged you. But his words were far far away from his laugh. "Why the fuck are you wearing that?"

You hugged him, hiding your surprised and sad face in his neck. "I-I thought you'd enjoy it..."

He let you go, fixed your hair a bit. Cupping your cheeks, he said: "We'll talk about it when we go home, okay? Now let's enjoy our party." And, uh, what a bastard he is, to put the smile back into your face, he added. "You're looking like a swan."

And the rest of the night was almost perfect. Erwin introduced you as "My cup of sunshine!" to his friends, co-workers, business partners. He complimented you, let others compliment you and he even let Miche steal you for the dance and touch your bareback with his enormous hands. He let Zeke kiss your hand which was decorated by the ring Erwin gave. Everything went smoothly.

And yet, here you were, in front of him. Couldn't even look at his face because of the humiliation and mockery he possessed in his eyes.

"Tell me, princess. Why did you wear that?" he asked, emphasizing the word 'that'.

"I'm sorry-"

Your head went to your right with the impact. Your left cheek was burning and you were in shock. Did he slap you?

"I'm not asking for your apology. I'm asking for the reason."

You lifted your head, eyes filled with fear. "I-"

Another slap. This one hurt more than the other. "Stop this fucking nonsense and answer me." His voice was calm, steady. It contained no anger or fury.

"I thought..." A tear left your eye, you wiped it with the back of your hand. "I thought y-you'd like it."

Another slap. "Did you get the note I sent with the dress? I remember putting it into the box myself. I even attached it to the dress with an anklet. Remember?"

"Yes."

Another slap, you fell onto the ground. "What did it say?"

A sob left your lips. "I-I don't..."

"You don't what, princess?" He kneeled down. He grabbed your chin, lifting it up and looking directly into your teary eyes. "Tell me."

" I don't remember!" You screamed it out. Humiliation now took over your body, making you ache in pain. It was also creating a pool between your legs. "I don't remember, Erwin! I'm so-"

Another slap. "You don't get to say my name tonight." He took his jacket off, then his tie, he threw both across the room. He talked as he rolled his sleeves up. “You don’t deserve to say my name with that whore mouth.”

He yanked your hair making you scream in pain, he slammed you into the wall. The photos fell down, shattered. His rough hands ripped the dress’ straps, making it fall onto the floor, pooling around your feet. “I bought this for my eyes. My pleasure.” He slapped your right breast harshly. “You are mine.” He pinched your cheeks together, making you open your mouth. “That’s what I wrote, stupid whore.” He spitted onto your tongue, it tasted like whiskey and cigar. Then he covered your mouth and your nose, not letting you breathe. “Swallow.”

You did as he said. How couldn’t you?

“Open your mouth, tongue out.” He let go of your mouth, wanted to see your mouth empty. You inhaled in relief, brain too hazy to understand anything. He slapped you again. “Open your fucking mouth.”

“Erwin!” You screamed with pain again.

He laughed and let your hair go, you fell down with the sudden movement. “Your stupid brain can’t understand a word I say, right?” He grabbed you by the neck, lifting your fragile body up. “What are you good for? Oh, right! Being a whore, now I remember.”

You grabbed his forearm, nails digging into his skin. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything. You tried to push him away but he didn’t budge. The worst part wasn’t him being harsh with you. It was him being calm as usual, never shouting, never talking with clenched teeth. Even his damn expression was calm. His damn eyebrows weren’t furrowed. That scared you.

“Stop,” he said, pushing your hands away with a harsh move. You made his arms bleed a little. He looked at you unimpressed. “You never understand, do you?”

He took you to your shared bedroom, threw you onto the bed. You tried to get away, silly you, where could you go. Your makeup was a mess, mascara running down onto your cheeks as your tears left your eyes, painting your face black. Crying loudly, you screamed once more. “Please! Please don’t!” You tried to stop him. “Daddy please!”

He choked you, again, harsher this time. You held onto his arms, wishing he would let you breathe just once. Slammed your weak body into the mattress, he ripped your panties. “You’re begging me not to do anything, yet you’re soaking like a fucking slut.” Without warning, he pushed his thick middle and ring finger inside you. “See? You take my fingers like a slut too!” Amusement coated his tone. “You either want my fingers or my dick. You just want to be my pocket pussy, right, slut?” He was pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, wet noises filled the room. “Stupid whore.”

Your eyes rolled back. Everything was too much. Too much pleasure, too much pain, too little air. Your brain was shutting down slowly, you couldn’t think straight. You wanted to kiss him, wanted to beg him to fuck you with his huge cock. Wanted him to take you then and there, without preparation. Yet, the only thing you could do was to moan, like a stupid whore. His voice echoed in your brain. You got closer, his fingers curled inside you, finding that pretty spot. It was too much?

“You’re cumming already?” He mocked, his pace quickened. “You won’t. Hold it.”

Your fingernails once again found the little cuts they made previously, digging even harder as the pleasure built up. You were losing consciousness due to the lack of oxygen in your body. You couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hold your orgasm, couldn’t stop him.

Erwin felt your orgasm before you. He pulled his hands away from you. “Open your legs. Ruin it. Don’t cum.”

You couldn’t.

The pleasure hit you, hit your body like a truck. With the sudden feeling of air coming into your lungs, your legs started trembling. Your whole body clenched, shaking like your vibrator Erwin bought you for your birthday. Your eyes snapped open and you felt something coming out of your cunt, wetting your legs, the bed and Erwin in front of you. You squirted.

“Fuck…” You heard Erwin cursing under his breath. His pants were soaking wet.

“D-Daddy...” You reached out for him, eyes barely functioning after the intense orgasm. “I-I’m sorry, I co-uldn’t hold it… I couldn't ruin it!”

He tsked. “Princess, what have you done?”

Your eyes filled with tears once again. You were slowly regaining your ability to think. “Daddy... I’m sorry…”

He sat next to you, pushed the hair from your face. “Shh, don’t talk…” He cupped your cheeks. “Maybe I was a bit too harsh for you.” He leaned down to kiss your puffy lips. “But you still need to be punished baby.”

Before you could protest, he spanked your clit.

“You were being a whore today.” Spank. “And you were also being a bad girl.” Spank. “You didn’t listen to me.” Spank. “But now,” Spank. “You’ll be cumming from this.”

You did. You didn’t know you could. But you did. And he didn’t stop.

“Daddy! S-Stop! I’ve come already” You tried to close your legs, the pleasure was turning into pain with each slap. “Can’t take it! Daddy I’m cumming!”

“Yes, babygirl,” He whispered. His eyes were locked into your, his pupils had expanded. “You’re cumming again. And you’ll be cumming again. And again. Until I’m done with you.”

“Daddy!”

His spanks became even faster and harder, hitting that sensitive bud throbbing in a mixture of pain and pleasure. When you opened your mouth to moan, he spitted onto your tongue once again. “Don’t swallow. Stick your tongue out, slut,” he said as his other hand caressed your hair. “Let yourself drool like a stupid whore.” His words, his actions… Everything was so complicated. Making you feel even more stupid.

After cumming another four times you were a drooling, dripping mess. You were lost your sight. Everything was spinning, the ceiling, Erwin in front of you, and you. Your breaths were unsteady, you couldn’t even hear your heartbeat because of its speed.

Erwin patted your cheek. “Don’t faint on me now, bitch.”

“D-Daddy…”

He smiled. “Shh, princess. I know.” His hands came down on your face to wipe your tears away. “I’m proud of you.” He kissed your forehead. “Now, I’m going to eat you out, ‘kay? I wanna taste my pretty pocket pussy.”

You squinted your eyes to see him. Your eyes filled with tears once again. Your makeup was already ruined and smudged into the sheets. “Please daddy! I can’t take-”

“Shut up, baby.” He stood up, got between your legs and pulled you towards his face. Erwin loved your pussy so much, he could live in there forever. He inhaled the heavenly scent and licked your slit, drinking everything you offered. “It’s my pussy and I chose to do whatever I want.”

You tried to push him, kick him away. Nothing worked. Erwin Smith, ate your pussy like it was his last day on earth. He ate your cum, drank your juices, sucked on your clit and fucked you with his tongue. His face was sweaty, his perfect hair stuck onto his forehead. His naked chin was now coated with your nectar. He made you cum again, leaving you breathless, sucking your soul out of your body. He made you cum, made you squirt onto his face. He was pussy drunk, couldn’t let you go. Couldn’t stop sucking your clit. He loved the way your legs trembled after each orgasm. He loved the way you screamed “Daddy!” first and when he didn’t stop you screamed “Erwin!”. He loved the way you babble nonsense trying to apologize from him. Stupid slut, he thought. And ate you out until your whole body went numb.

When he was finally done, both of you were panting. You were barely awake, holding onto nothing but trying your best not to lose consciousness. Erwin was tired, tired from eating you out, fingering you and taking your soul away from you. He got up, laid right next to you. He adored this sight; you, completely fucked up and ruined. He did this without putting his cock in you. He was proud.

“Are you with me princess?” He whispered into the night. He was being cautious.

You nodded weakly.

“Good girl,” he said. Kissed your forehead slowly he cupped your cheeks. “Can you give me a color baby?” You were using a color system alongside your safeword. It was for your safety.

“Y-Yellow…” Your voice was hoarse after all the screaming.

He furrowed his brows. He was too harsh on you. “I’m sorry, kitten.” He carefully flipped you onto your side, hugging your back tightly, he kissed your shoulder. “I was too harsh on you. I’m so sorry baby.”

A sob escaped your lips. “But you didn’t cum…”

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay. You’ve done so well. I got pleasure from your pleasure. I'm not important. You are. Your pleasure is. You did so well. So well baby. That’s what is important. I got you now, okay? I’ll never let you go. You’re my everything. I got you. I’ll never leave you.”

You stayed there, tangled together for a long time. Erwin kissed your shoulders, back and hair, his calloused hands caressed your arms. When the extreme pleasure made you clench again, he hugged you tighter, whispering. “Calm down, baby. I got you.” He made sure you were fully okay after your intense session.

“D-Daddy?”

His heart shattered into thousand pieces after hearing that tone in your voice. “You can say my name baby, it’s over now.”

“Erwin,” you said almost hesitantly. “C-Can I go to the bathroom? I need to pee.”

His eyes snapped open. Right, you had to. “Yes baby, let me take you there.” He took you into his arms bridal style. “And we’ll take a bath, I really want to try that lavender bath bomb you bought. Is that okay baby?”

You snuggled into his shirt, it was still wet after your countless orgasms.

After you were done with everything, you were in your marble bathtub with Erwin. A purple color was prominent in the water, making you feel safe. You leaned into his chest filled with little patches of thin gold hair even more. He was your home.

“Erwin?” you asked, melting into his touches.

“Yes, princess?”

“How many times did I cum?” You asked, lifted your head to look at him. You loved that expression. You could see surprise, confusion, calculation and answer in seconds.

“Thirty..” he furrowed his thick brows, he was counting. “Thirty-nine.” Then he realized what he said. His eyes opened up with amazement. “Oh.”

“Yeah..” you said, a chuckle left your chest.

“We broke our record!”

taggings: @maries-gallery @st-arlert (you have to read this baby, no escapes) @azazelles

#impact play tw #dumbification tw #breath play tw #slapping tw #noncon tw #predator tw #erwin smut #erwin x reader #erwin x y/n #snk erwin #erwin smith #erwin x you #attack on titan #aot smut #snk smut #snk #aot #shingeki no kyojin

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rocorambles · 3 years

Text

Hit It Till It Breaks

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Mafia AU, NSFW, Drug Dealing, Dub-Con/Non-Con Sex, Dub-Con/Non-Con Drug Consumption, Drug Addiction, Manipulation, Humiliation, Degradation, Prostitution, Slight Pet Play

Prompt: Hard At Work

Summary: Growing up, you’d always loved fairy tales and happy endings. You’d always believed that despite how bad things might seem or get, there would be a light at the end of the tunnel. But you’re quickly realizing that this isn’t a fairy tale, that there is no happy ending, and that sometimes, you only go downhill, farther and farther from the light.

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist to see how everyone decided to run with this spicy prompt.

(Thank you as always @sawamooora for helping me keep this a coherent degenerate mess~)

It’s hard to believe that bright eyed girl holding her college diploma in the photo on your nightstand was you not that long ago. And your heart clenches when you remember how hopeful you had been. So excited to venture out and experience life. Ready to enter the job market. Ready to be an adult.

Doors opened and closed. But you hadn’t let it deter you at first. It just wasn’t meant to be. You can’t expect to get the first job you interview for!

But then more and more doors opened, only to be shut in your face.Your rose-tinted glasses began to crack as your funds quickly dwindled, as you lowered your standards, desperately mass applying to any small time company vaguely related to your major, only to be turned away at every step.

And now, here you are, barely able to make rent, barely able to even feed yourself with the little you have from odd part-time jobs you’ve managed to stitch together into some sort of financial life line.

Well, you HAD been barely able to make rent, but your hands tremble when you stare at the letter notifying you that your rent will begin to increase starting next month, mind speeding into a panicked haze as you unsuccessfully try to think of what to do, how you can possibly afford to live even in this dump anymore. And before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re scrambling, stumbling to your bathroom, throwing open your medicine cabinet as you rummage for the little pills that you know will help slow down your racing thoughts and provide much needed clarity.

You swear everything seems clearer as soon as the smooth texture hits your tongue and you can finally breathe, slumping down on the cold tiles of your floor, pill bottle still clutched in your hand as you allow yourself to relax, praying for any ideas to flow through you. And it hits you like a ton of bricks when your grip on the plastic container accidentally loosens and the bottle clangs against the floor.

A humorless chuckle slips past your lips as you stare at the rolling cylinder.

Drug dealing. Fucking drug dealing.

You can’t believe you’re even thinking of going down this route, but your mind flashes back to old roommates, old friends, old classmates who had nonchalantly made a pretty bundle on the side, carelessly tossing around and selling all types of prescription drugs on campus. And you vividly remember how simple they had made it seem, how they had all gotten away with it. Scrumptious meals, pricey alcohol, far beyond a college palette, and beautiful clothing were the only “consequences” for their crimes.

If they could do it, you could too. Or so you’d like to think.

But as naive and ignorant as you are about this line of work, even you know there’s a difference between selling to silly college students on campus, and selling it at a popular nightclub owned by an infamous crime syndicate.

Even as far removed as you are from the more seedy underbelly of the new city you live in, you know of the Seijoh Syndicate. Everyone in town does. It’s hard not to when they literally run and own the entire place.

Oikawa Tooru and the rest of the Seijoh Four run their domain with an iron fist. They’re practically nonexistent, merely a scary story to keep people in line, for those who abide by the laws and keep their noses out of trouble, but an all too real nightmare for those who choose to defy them. And you shudder, remembering the horror stories you had heard of exactly what happens to those who decide to try and start their own nefarious business and practices on Seijoh streets without Oikawa’s permission.

But surely they wouldn’t pay you any mind? Right? Surely a mere girl in her early twenties selling the leftover prescription medicine she has in her cabinets for one night won’t do any harm?

Maybe it’s stupid to go to such a prevalent and well known club, especially one that’s notoriously favored by the Seijoh Four. But you convince yourself that it’s the most crowded venue in the area with a target demographic who’s guaranteed to buy you out, even at the obscene prices you plan on charging. How would anyone even notice you? Where else could you go? What options do you even have?

So despite the nervous pit swelling in your stomach, you soldier on, plastering a cheery smile at the bouncer who easily waves you in without a second glance, slipping into the sweaty mass of bodies, going deeper and deeper until you’re surrounded - skin, bones, and muscles pressing against you on all sides, safe from any prying eyes.

Or so you believe.

You know who the Seijoh Four are. You even know their names. But never have you met them, never have you ever seen a picture of what they each look like. Not that it would help you if you did when you’re so laser focused on finding potential customers, not even bothering to look around to see if anyone’s watching you. So you carry on, unaware of the four sets of eyes looking at you in amusement from their roost high above the writhing crowds.

There’s nothing subtle about the way you sloppily nudge people, practically shoving your pills in stranger’s faces, almost wildly waving your merchandise around you in a desperate attempt to pull in buyers. Sweaty nervous hands fumble as you exchange little plastic baggies for wads of cash and Matsukawa raises a brow in disbelief while Hanamaki cackles when you drop your merch and payment, getting on all fours on the trashed dance floor to recollect your goods.

It might be the most amusing show they’ve had in a while, but Iwaizumi feels a pang of pity at the wild hopeless look in your eyes and he swiftly stands, brusquely telling the other three that he’s going to go down and tell you off with just a warning, only to be stopped when Oikawa smoothly stands to his feet, effectively blocking Iwaizumi’s path.

“Now, now Iwa-chan. Don’t be so hasty. Let me go talk to the cutie. I’ve been so bored recently and she looks like she’ll be fun! Plus you’ll make her cry with that scary face of yours.”

Suddenly the sight of you bumbling around isn’t quite as entertaining as the remaining three men watch the brunette prowl towards you, heavy realization of what’s to come sombering the mood.

You’re frantic, flitting about the throngs of flailing limbs and swaying bodies, frustration from not being able to get through your supplies fast enough weighing at your conscious. Sure, you’ve managed to accrue some cash, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough to even feed yourself for the coming week let alone make a dent in the daunting rent that looms over you. And you can feel hot tears prick at the corner of your eyes when you see that it’s almost closing time and you’re still stuck with more than half your inventory, no closer to figuring out how to survive. So when a hand firmly rests on your shoulder, you whip around, ready to take your anger out on the poor soul who’s managed to catch you at the worst time. But you freeze, vicious words stuck in your mouth when you see the handsome man beaming down at you, a thick wad of rolled up bills haphazardly dangling from his fingers.

“I heard you might have some stuff I’d be interested in.”

You wonder if this is all a dream, if the man in front of you is (ironically a devilishly) handsome angel swooping into save you when he casually asks you how much stuff you still have, how much you’d be willing to sell everything for, not even blinking an eye at your outrageous price tag. You’re so stunned by how quick he is to call it a done deal, not resisting even a bit as he wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling you after him, saying some vague comments about wanting to go somewhere a little more private since it’s a bigger trade. All you can think about is how you’ll finally be able to eat something other than instant noodles and not have to worry about rent as you throw yourself back into interviewing, too lost in thoughts to be wary of how you’re being dragged farther and farther away from the rowdy crowd.

But the sound of a door slamming shut behind you jolts you back to reality and Oikawa fights back a laugh at how adorable you are, eyes blown wide like a deer in headlights as your head swivels side to side, dismay and panic making you tremble when you survey the private room you’re in, throat nervously gulping when you notice the three other occupants.

You’re so predictable and Oikawa just rolls his eyes fondly at how you swiftly turn around, trying to lunge towards the door in an attempt to escape, taking his time to leisurely make his way towards you, brown orbs taking in every inch of you as Matsukawa and Hanamaki hold your writhing body in place.

It’s so satisfying watching you crumble to pieces before his very eyes at just the mention of his name, despair and fear swirling beautifully on your face when he continues to introduce the rest of the Seijoh Four. It never gets old, that deliciously addicting feeling of power he feels when people tremble from just a few syllables and he relishes in your pleading apologies and your tears, patiently waiting for you to finish your little sob story, barely listening to the details as he focuses in on how gorgeous you are, broken and vulnerable.

And really, there’s no need for him to pay close attention to your blabbering anyway. It always comes down to one thing…

“So you need money, cutie? How about working for me?”

“Oye! Oikawa-”

“I’m just asking her some questions, Iwa-chan.”

There’s tense silence and your eyes nervously flicker back and forth between the two imposing figures staring each other down, green and brown eyes clashing in a silent argument. But as if they’ve somehow come to a conclusion, Iwaizumi tsks and looks away while Oikawa turns his attention back to you, a sickeningly cheerful grin on his face.

Blood curling fear lances through you and you’re almost grateful for the two pairs of strong arms holding you tight, their grip keeping you from falling to your knees as your legs threaten to give out under the pressure you feel as Oikawa thoughtfully looks at you.

You know the smart answer would be to adamantly say no and promptly figure out a way to leave this moment far behind you, even if it means forfeiting any money you had made tonight. But...a job is a job, right? And surely a job in the Seijoh Syndicate would be more lucrative than anything you’re doing now, right?

Oikawa hides a smile at the way he can see the cogs in your head turn, apprehension turning to curiosity as you stutter out questions about pay and what the job would entail. Desperation is a good look on anyone, but it suits you particularly well and just like that, hook, line, and sinker, he has a new cute live-in maid to replace the recently vacated role.

Working as Oikawa’s maid is more...normal than you would have expected. Not that you’re complaining and other than the embarrassing maid outfit he makes you wear, complete with frilly bow and garters, the chores are mundane. Bring breakfast to him and wake him. Clean his room and do his laundry when he’s away at meetings or jobs. Make sure guests have refreshments when they come over to his large estate, a mansion you now also call home.

If you’re honest, it’s much more relaxing than the multiple part-time jobs you had been juggling previously, and with free board, free food, and the substantial paycheck that regularly makes its way to your bank account, you can see your future brightening up again. When your duties are done for the day, you resume practicing for interviews and keeping up with the industry, feeling emboldened and empowered to finally resume working towards the career path you had always dreamed of.

But the more time you spend with Oikawa, the closer and more entangled in your life the brunette becomes. Alarm bells ring wildly in your head as you’re forced to join him for meals, forced to dress in elaborate gowns and jewelry while you’re waltzed around on his arm, forced to travel around the world with him, and attend to him like a glorified assistant. He’s too charming, too familiar, too bold, and you can’t help but feel like you’re racing towards some inevitable crash as he easily brushes aside any boundaries between the two of you.

You know so many women would kill to be in your shoes and you can understand why, not completely immune to his playful smile and the lilt of his voice yourself. But you know better, know exactly how dangerous it would be to get involved with a man like Oikawa Tooru.

It’s clear from the crimson stains on the clothes he leaves for you to either dispose of, or have cleaned. It’s clear from the wails and sobs of woman after woman he uses and tosses aside like garbage on an almost daily basis. It’s clear from the guns, knives, and weapons, most of which you don’t even know the name of, filling up all the walls, drawers, and cabinets.

So you do your best to keep your distance, building titanium walls around your heart. Always polite, too terrified of what would happen if you pissed him off, but cold enough to deter him from more amorously or intimately testing his boundaries.

And it seems to work as he turns his eyes towards other women, leaving you alone after throwing a few flirty comments and winks your way and ultimately falling in bed with some other poor damsel. But you nervously gulp when it’s just the two of you one night and just as you’re ready to make yourself scarce after turning down his bed and laying out his pajamas, his voice beckons you over and you anxiously bite your lower lip at the sight of pills of all shapes and sizes splayed out across his desk.

Other than your prescription medicine, you don’t have a lot of experience with drugs other than the few blunts here and there during your college years and you had always strictly kept to your recommended doses, never even entertaining the idea of taking more. So the sight in front of you is overwhelming and you hesitantly stare anywhere but at the table surface, anxiously waiting for Oikawa to explain why he called you over. But what you’re not expecting is the warm hand gently grasping your wrist and holding your arm out, small objects being carefully placed in your outstretched palm, and soft coaxing from Oikawa to “give them a try”.

Every part of you is screaming to throw the pills and make a run for it, begging you to come up with some excuse or just outright reject his offer. But it’s as if your body is frozen and he firmly pushes your hand to your mouth, grip tightening enough to make you wince when you hesitate to listen. The slight pain is enough to remind you that you’re not exactly in any position to negotiate and you force yourself to down the pills and gulp down the glass of water he holds to your lips.

The last thing you remember is the unsettling feeling of beginning a descent to an unknown place from which there is no return as Oikawa pulls you to his bed. And then euphoria floods through you as your body slots against his larger frame.

It feels good. Too good. Unnaturally good. But it’s intoxicating and you can’t help but let yourself drown in the hazy waves crashing down upon you, feeling lighter, freer, happier than you have for years. You vaguely register roaming hands, a hot wet mouth, a body on top of yours, something hard pressing against the apex of your thighs, filling you, consuming you in heady pleasure only amplified by the drugs coating your insides.

Bliss. Pleasure. Pure unadulterated joy. And then nothing.

When you come to, the weight of what had happened last night comes crashing down on you, making your foggy mind throb even more and you can feel bile rising inside of you as a toned arm around your waist tightens its hold on you. Oikawa grunts in annoyance when you claw your way out from his hold, scampering on shaky legs to his bathroom, heaving and expelling the contents of your stomach, trying futilely to cleanse yourself of your employer’s touch.

You flinch when you hear footsteps approach, shrinking into the corner of the tiled room, body crouched and curled into a tight ball as you try to save any shred of dignity you still have by hiding your naked body as much as you can from his prying eyes. Salty drops threaten to trail down your face when he hovers over you, sweetly cooing down at you “not to be like this”, “you liked it so much last night”, “come back to bed with me” only to stream down your face when his countenance swiftly changes, handsome face glowering down at you before brusquely turning away and snapping at you to “get on with your work then if you’re going to be an annoying bitch”.

It’s easy to convince yourself that you’re just being smart, just trying to survive as you obediently wash up and don your humiliating uniform, that it isn’t just you being a coward as you submissively go about your usual work day, still sitting with thighs pressed against Oikawa’s legs at meals, making no move to brush off the heavy arm he slings around your shoulders, only slightly flinching when his fingertips teasingly play with the hem of your skirt as he converses with the rest of the Seijoh Four.

But you can’t deny that all you are is a weak fool, desperate to live when you shakily accept the pills he pushes towards you again that night, silently crying yet not doing anything to prevent the inevitable as you swallow any self-respect or pride you had along with the smooth pellets under his watchful gaze, too scared of the glimmer of gunmetal you see on the inside of his jacket to even think of resisting.

And history repeats itself. Over and over again.

Oikawa smiles at how different you are from that skittish creature who fled from his every touch, smirking at how naive and innocent you still are as you try to hide how eager you are for your daily dose, unaware of how he’s slowly been increasing it every night, ignorant of how you unconsciously lean into his touches, pretty lips wrapping around his fingers as he hand feeds you.

Do you know what an animal you are in bed these days? Do you realize how little there is left to differentiate you from one of his filthy whores when you’re so doped up on whatever he gives you, moaning like a pornstar and leaving vicious red claw marks on his skin as you bounce on his cock?

And he knows it’s time to move onto the next phase of your conditioning when there’s not even a speck of shame in your clear eyes when the sunlight begins to filter through the window, knowingly smiling in satisfaction when instead of slinking off to wallow in your regret you shimmy down between his legs and begin to nuzzle and mouth his morning wood, face full of nothing but wanton desire as you take his cock in your mouth.

He doesn’t give you anything that night. Or the next night. Or the one after that. He doesn’t so much as even look at you outside of your usual eye contact, not a single flirtatious word slipping past his lips.

You should be grateful. This is what you wanted, right? To keep things strictly professional between the two of you. To not be coerced into the artificial pleasure you’ve been swallowing on a daily basis for the last month now. To not feel like just another warm body for Oikawa to taint.

Your interview notes and open tab of job listings are right there, begging for your attention, practically screaming at you to pursue the life you’ve always dreamed of.

Yet here you are, not even a week later, on your knees in between Oikawa’s legs as he leisurely reclines in his chair, peppering his inner thighs with kisses and rubbing your face against the growing bulge in his trousers, begging and pleading for another dose, feeling utterly empty and cold inside, unable to sleep, unable to focus, unable to function without the nights of hazy ecstasy.

Your heart drops at the long disappointed sigh the brunette releases.

“Drugs are expensive, cutie. I was just being nice and letting you try some new batches we’ve been producing, but now that they’re on the market, I can’t just keep on giving them to you for free.”

He rolls his eyes when you adamantly tell him you’ll pay whatever the price is, a condescending smirk splitting his face from how quick you are to shut up, soul crushed when he reveals the extravagant cost, a price he knows you can’t afford with the salary he’s providing you with.

But he artfully softens his smile as he begins to unbuckle his pants, sliding the fabric down and letting his throbbing cock spring into view, chuckling when it lightly slaps your face as it’s released from its confines, wondering if you’re drooling from the sight of his erection or the pills he’s playfully placing along the length of it.

“I know you don’t have that money, cutie. But I’d be willing to accept other forms of payments.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before you’re rushing to take him in his mouth and he loudly laughs at how obscene you look, slobbering all over his length, fervently bobbing your head up and down, hastily trying to deep throat him to reach the pill strategically placed right at the base of his shaft, lips puckering as you inhale the drugs, swallowing around him in a way that has him groaning as you stuff your face full of chemicals and pre-cum. And it doesn’t take much longer for him to wash your mouth and throat with warm rivulets of sticky white fluids as he watches the goods take effect, his balls tightening and cock straining with arousal as you reach between your legs, fingers playing with your tight dripping hole while your lewd moans vibrate against him.

It’s pathetically endearing how you can’t keep off of him after that, insisting on sitting on his lap during meals, your cute ass grinding against his clothed cock, always dropping to your knees in between chores, warming his cock in your greedy mouth, always asking him how many pills you’ve earned so far. You really are just his little slutty drug addict now, aren’t you?

But he needs you to be more than that, needs you to learn that you belong to anyone who’s willing to give you the high you crave, needs you to realize that you’re just a free use drug addicted whore for anyone and everyone to use.

So despite how tempting it is to just plunge balls deep inside your tight little pussy, he shoves you off of him one night as you try to grind against his body, feigning exhaustion and boredom of your body, watching in amusement at the panicked crazed look that flashes across your face at his words. Well aren’t you a beautiful sight, throwing yourself at his feet and groveling, saying you’ll do anything for another dose.

Anything, huh?

In your defense, even through the daze of your withdrawal, there’s still a wary expression on your face when Matsukawa and Hanamaki enter the room. Maybe you aren’t as broken as Oikawa had thought. But when you see the little baggies filled with the tablets you’ve become far too familiar with twirling between the duo’s fingers, you practically lunge at them and Oikawa finally allows himself the pleasure of reaching into his pants and stroking himself to the debauched sight playing out in front of him.

Maybe he needs to fuck you in front of a mirror more often if this is what you look like from an outside perspective. It’s like you were made to be used, to be just a warm toy for men to use and Oikawa can’t help but think you look best like this, cocks penetrating both your front and back holes, your body squeezed between two bodies. And he fondly smiles at how you have Hanamaki’s face between the palms of your hands, your lips locked in a sloppy kiss as your tongue ravages the strawberry blonde’s mouth, searching for the pills the man had playfully placed on the tip of his tongue in front of your very eyes before winking at you and telling you to come and get them yourself if you wanted them so badly.

They keep your daily training a surprise, mixing up who gets to wreck your body each day, how many cocks and rounds of cum you’ll need to pay with, what pills and dosage you get. Always keeping you lost and confused, making sure your mind is just a muddled mess that can only think of reaching your next high by any means necessary.

Hell, even Iwaizumi takes part when he realizes that you’re beyond the point of no return, that Oikawa wasn’t joking when he said that there is no other choice for you anymore. This is your life now. This is who you are now. This is your “happily ever after”. He knows all that, can see all that in the way your dazed eyes only come to life at the sight of your addiction, your otherwise listless body perking up at the sound of the tiny objects rattling in their container. And yet a small sliver of guilt has him growling at you to get on all fours, ensuring your face isn’t visible, turning you into just another body for him to mindlessly use as he pleases.

It’s an uncomfortable position, borderline painful as your knees rock back and forth on the hard floor with every brutal thrust of Iwaizumi’s hips. But you don’t care, the aching pain in your legs just dull background noise as you fixate on the tablets scattered on the floor in front of your face, dropping your entire upper body low to the ground, only your hips raised high as your mouth snaps forward. You’re so close and you mewl as your lips make contact with the first pill, uncaring of the pitiful sight you make licking and lapping the floor, whimpering when a hand firmly grabs you by the hair and roughly pulls your face away from your feast.

“Maybe we should get you a dog bowl, cutie. It’s humiliating even for you to be eating from the dirty floor like that. Hold her hair for me, Iwa-chan.”

You crane your neck back and forth, jaw jutting forward as you frantically fight against the tight grip holding you back, mouth drooling and tongue extending like a ravenous animal. But it’s no use and you whine, too focused on your unfinished “meal” to notice how Oikawa is still standing in front of you, cock pulled out from his pants, his hands rapidly fisting the shaft. And only when thick white spurts glaze the remaining pills do you whip your attention towards him, staring with hopeful wide eyes when he crouches in front of you and grabs your face.

“When Iwa-chan lets go of your hair, you’ll get to have the rest of your treats, but you also have to eat the special seasoning I’ve generously given you, okay? If I see even a speck of it left, you’re not getting anything tomorrow, understand?”

Oikawa laughs at how vigorously you nod your head and with a nod in Iwaizumi’s direction, you’re released and the two men watch on as you lick the floor until it’s sparkling clean, slumping your face in the mess of your own drying saliva as you reach euphoria once more. You wail as Iwaizumi shoves you off a cliff and into floating clouds of bliss with one last thrust, the drugs in your system weaving a comforting cocoon around you that you melt into, unable to escape its soothing pull, giggling in content as his seed fills you to the brim.

There’s silence as Iwaizumi pulls out of you, tucking himself back into his pants before sitting besides Oikawa, joining him as he continues observing your used and drugged up body sprawled across the floor, a dopey smile on your face as cum begins to leak out of your spent pussy.

Minutes pass and Iwaizumi sighs, knowing what Oikawa is waiting for him to ask despite how insistent he has been over the years about not wanting to be involved in this particular side of the business...

“Are you going to have her start working at the brothel soon? She seems just about ready.”

“Not yet. I want to give her a few test runs first before I have her work full-time at that establishment. She’s only been with the four of us, so I’m curious to see how she is with a complete stranger. It’s perfect timing too since Sawamura is coming over for a meeting soon and I know he won’t damage the goods if I gift her to him for a night or two. Plus, she hasn’t completely lost her mind yet so we can get some more use out of her before we toss her aside...”

The brunette rambles on, tone light and airy as if he’s just discussing the weather or a TV show he watched, as if he’s not mere feet away from a woman he’s utterly destroyed and rebuilt into just another brainless profit-making doll.

And Iwaizumi tunes him out, already having heard almost this exact speech countless times by now, unable to even keep track of how many others like you there have been in the past, unwilling to think about how many more there will be in the future. But he snorts at Oikawa’s typical closing line.

“I guess it’s almost time to find a new cute maid.”

#haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader #tw: yandere #tw: drugging #tw: drugs #tw: addiction #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon

831 notes · View notes

aliwritesss · 3 years

Text

~ Labyrinth

Pairings: Eric x reader

Genre: fuckboy au!

Warnings: angst, slightly suggestive, slow burn, swearing

Based on this AU! Highly recommended to read it before you start the series, but can be read alone.

1/? Masterlist

-“… And remember! The deadline for the essay is in three weeks.”- You hear your History teacher’s voice but no one listens to him. The bell just ringed and that meant freedom.

-“ It’s Friday!!! Let’s do something fun.” You hear Kevin’s voice next to you. You thank the heavens and stars to have him in your life, you don’t know what you would have done without him all this time.

-“ What are you thinking?”

-“ Well… You know, everyone’s been on the edge these past months with the exams and all. So Juyeon thought I’d be fun to do a small gathering, only close friends.” He says with the smallest voice and you feel all your body tense up. If you knew one thing is that you couldn’t go to parties, not yet. Not when it’s been so long since you’ve seen him and you’re actually starting to move on. To wake up and not think of him.

-“ It sounds fun! But I think I’m gonna pass this time, I better start working on this assignment.”

-“ Cmon (Y/N), it’s been a month. You gotta go to your old self, I miss you. I miss us having fun.” It pains your heart to hear Kevin, you’d love to have the balls to go to their dorms and be yourself, to dance again till you can’t stand up, to laugh freely but you feel that the spark inside of you has died and you’re afraid that if you go, it won’t light up anymore.

-“ I promise you I’ll go back to my old self. You’ll get back your partner in crime, my little moon.” You say hugging him and exiting the class. -“ Just give me a little bit and you’ll get back your star.”

-“ The world better get ready once the moon and star duo comes back.” He says giving you one of his best smiles and you feel a little bit better. You’ve known him for so long and clicked since then. One day you two were in class and someone said you looked like the team rocket from Pokémon, always together being mischievous. And since then you baptized your friendship as the moon and star duo.

As you walk outside you feel his comment nag you in the back of your head. “Why do I have to feel so bad when he’s doing fine? Was everything a lie? Did he truly love me?” These thoughts have been bugging you lately and you’re starting to get annoyed. You thought you were doing fine but sometimes these dark clouds will come and shake you down. And it seems like today was one of these days.

“ So… Juyeon is doing a gathering huh? Do you realize that it means half of the campus is going, right?”

-“ Yeah… We told him only close people and Changmin said that meant around 50 friends.” He says, rolling his eyes. -“ Thank god we have Sangyeon and Jacob to keep him in check or else It’d be a nightmare.” And that makes you laugh because it’s true, you remember one night you were staying the night in their dorms and suddenly Sunwoo and Chanhee started arguing about the smallest thing. Sangyeon only needed to look at them to make them stop. It was so funny, you don’t want to mess with an angry Sangyeon to be honest.

-“ And… Here we go. I knew it.” You hear Kevin’s annoyed voice. -“ They’re asking me to buy drinks, it seems like more people are coming tonight. I have to go now bubs, but we should do something fun this weekend okay? Just the two of us.” He says while hugging you and you nod. Maybe that’s what you need, to start slowly coming out of your cave.

You start making your way to your dorm thinking about the million things you have to get done in these two weeks and you can feel your anxiety already coming. The pressure you’ve been feeling these past few days it’s getting worse everyday. And the worst of it, it’s that you don’t have anyone to talk about it. Unconsciously, you touch your necklace, feeling a little bit better. You look down to the tiny shiny star and remember the night he gave it to you.

-“ I’ll be your star, ready to guide you even in the darkest times, even when there’s no moon shining.” He said softly in your neck. You smiled at him and looked at the charm. It was a little star filled with crystals. Stunning.

-“ When you feel like giving up, remember that I’ll be here with you. Faintly.” Eric said, touching your necklace.

“Where are you now? Where are you now when I need you the most?” You think for yourself, It’s not like you weren’t starting to move on from him, which you are doing. But you were not forgetting him, and you wish you could.

You wish you could erase all these sweet moments, act like nothing happened. Act like him, cold and unbothered. Why did him have to play you? Was everything a lie? Everything he said, was just a trap to only have fun with you? You couldn’t trust your memories, it seems like you only could remember the good ones.

But what about that night you two had a fight on a party because he was with this girl, laughing and talking the whole night while you were alone? You still remember his words: “ Stop being a pain in the ass, if I wanted to hook up with her dont you think I would have already done it?”. And you being a silly naive girl in love, acted like it didn’t hurt you. Like he didnt had the power to destroy you in matter of seconds if he wanted.

And that was the reason you broke up with him.

Everyone knew you were his girl and god forbid anyone who dared to touch you. But that’s it, you were only that, his girl. He didn’t bother to put a label, you were there for him and that was enough.

-“ Eric what are we doing?”- You asked him the night you two broke up.

-“ What do you mean?”-

-“ What are we doing together? What is this? Are we exclusive? Are we truly in a relationship?”- You asked trembling, you weren’t ready to hear his answer.

-“ Not this again (Y/N). I told you I don’t want to talk about it and you keep bringing this up. I said you are my girl and that should be enough.”-

-“ But it isn’t. It isn’t when there’s a queue of girls waiting for you to get tired of me and drop me like a toy. And I had enough, I need to know what I am to you.” You said sitting in his bed.

-“ You are making me tired with all these questions. I said drop it, (Y/N). You know how I am and still chose to be here with me.”-

-“ I chose you bc you said that you couldn’t do this without me, Eric! You told me that I was special and-.”

-“ So? That gives you the right to be called my girlfriend?”- And that was the last straw. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, it’s like someone snapped you back to reality. Like you just woke up from a beautiful dream and got hit with the true world.

He loved you, but not in the right way.

He cared about you, but not enough.

You got dressed and started to pick yoiur things while crying. You needed to get out as soon as possible, even if it was 3 in the morning.

-“Cmon (Y/N) don’t be like this. I got mad and you know I say things I regret later. Please let’s talk in the morning when we are calm, okay? Babe please-“

-“ Don’t touch me, Eric. I’ve had enough. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep falling in love with you more and more when we are not in the same page. Not even in the same book.”- You said putting on your sweatshirt, well, his sweatshirt now yours.

-“ Are you serious? Are you going to be like this? After all we’ve been through?”-

-“ Exactly, after all we’ve been through you still think I don’t deserve to be your girlfriend. And let me correct you, you’re the one who doesn’t deserve to be my boyfriend. I’m tired of your shit.”

-“ I know you’re angry (Y/N) but I swear if you leave this room that’s it.”- He said staring at you. You gave him one last smile and closed the door. It was so late at night and you decided to bring this topic up… That was a stupid move of you to be honest, but it needed to be done.

You can feel your vision getting blurry with all the tears falling but you don’t care anymore.

-“ Star? Is everything ok?”- you feel Kevin’s sleepy voice coming from the other side of the hallway and you let out a sob. -“ Hey, Hey. What happened bubs? Why are you crying? Where’s Eric?”-

-“ I… I- I think we just broke up.” You said hugging him and starting to sob even harder.

- “ Oh gosh…” He said quietly while stroking your hair.

And after that everything was a blur, you only remember him and Haknyeon taking you to your dorm and sleeping there. Everyone knew what happened because they heard you two arguing but no one could bring the topic up. It was typical of you two to argue, but in a matter of hours everything was cleared. But this time was different and both of you knew it.

This time the damage was done and there was no going back now.

A/N: So it’s finally here!! The first chapter of this little series. Thanks to all of you for liking so much the AU and for telling me what you preferred to see on this series. It’ll be after the break up, but I thought it’d be nice to have a little context of why did the discussion happen and to see the dynamic of the relationship. Honestly speaking, I love Eric’s fuckboy vibes so much.. But still it pains me to see him acting this way :( I apologise for any typo or mistake! And remember you can ask in the comments or dms to be tagged and that requests are open!!

TAGLIST: @asherbl @fairycob @givememunjang

#tbz #the boyz #tbz x reader #tbznetwork #the boyz au #the boyz drabbles #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz series #eric sohn #the boyz eric #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #tbz eric #tbz angst #tbz drabbles

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yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

to the touch | pjm

pairing: park jimin x oc (ft. brother yoongi)

genre: mutual pining, fluff, cute crushes, brothers best friend

warnings: JIMIN that's it

words: 5, 216

summary: he's back

“You’re … you’re here?” You squeak and it’s not one of your best moments even if you were sure Yoongi would argue otherwise and that you rarely had average moments, to begin with. But there was something about spontaneity and surprise that threw you off in the worst way possible and made your brain short-circuit to the point where you’re unable to throw coherent thoughts together. And this was definitely a surprise, one that you’d never expected to happen because—

“I am,” Jimin says curtly, tossing you a firm nod of his head when he pushes you aside and steps into your apartment like he’s been year a thousand times. But in reality, it’s his first time standing at your doorstep, first time knocking on your door, and definitely the first step he’s ever had the chance to get a glimpse of how your living room looks like.

You’re still gaping at the entrance with the door open and you’re sure if any of your neighbors were to step out of their homes, they’d just see a lone girl outside that looked a little too unnerved to bother. When you snap out of it and turn your body to face your visitor, he’s already made himself comfortable on your couch and it’s hard to piece together the fact that Jimin was quite in fact in your living room, and lounging on your couch, staring at your television like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“W-What—how?” You croak because there are about ten million different thoughts running through your head but the most pressing one is how Jimin looked … different.

A good difference, for sure. He’s always been handsome and unreasonably so. Especially with the way that he’s dyed his hair back to black and the gentle fluff of how it lays atop his head. You note that he still kept his style despite him going MIA for three years and wore slacks that shaped his legs (and butt) beautifully with a casual shirt tucked into the waistband of his pants. It was unfair how effortlessly good-looking he was on a spontaneous occasion while you looked anything but, especially with your sweats and old tank top.

But Jimin had always been a little hard to read. Terrifying and brassy all at once but never obstructive—although you’d argue that his presence was the obstruction as it is of how distracted you feel whenever he was around you years ago. It’s like you never learned how to accommodate his presence because he happened to fill every space with just his body even if he wasn’t that tall.

“I thought I’d pay a visit. Your brother gave me your address.” He says, finally turning his head to face you, and its still blank like every expression you remember made towards you. You expected nothing more or nothing less than the way he stares you over and makes you feel like the outsider in your own home.

“Yoongi …” You grit, cursing your brother mentally and hoping he’d make use of that stupid sibling telepathy power he claims he has to receive your gripe.

You clear your throat as you awkwardly shuffle closer towards the couch and hover awkwardly by the arm of the sofa to keep your distance. It’s been years and it’s still a little unfamiliar to see Jimin right in front of you, and not someone you kept at the back of your mind.

“You could’ve called …” You say softly while fiddling with your thumbs. Jimin just raises an eyebrow at you and you feel stupid for saying that already.

Some things don’t change and it’s proven when your heart still beats the same when he’s around you. You cursed at yourself for being weak-willed because you thought time would help you get over your silly crush on Jimin but you also long acknowledged the fact that it wasn’t just a crush. It was more.

You hated falling for the cliches of crushing on your brother’s best friend, especially one that was just emotionally reserved and detached ninety percent of the time. The only conversations you remember having with Jimin were the ones that you were blushing at him when he looked at you a little longer than usual, or when he drove you to and from school when Yoongi left for university.

But then he disappeared, without saying goodbye and you only found out from his parents that he got into a dance program abroad and packed his things and left. Obviously, twenty-year-old you was devastated because you somehow convinced yourself that he enjoyed your presence even if he was huffing and puffing every five minutes when you’d fall into a ramble of your own.

He changed his number and he wasn’t a social media person so you had no idea what he was doing or how he was, besides the occasional mention of his name in conversations you had with your brother. It sucked. Majorly. Because you really liked him even if he was cold because you knew that Jimin was a good person. A cold and shitty person wouldn’t pat you on your head before your wisdom teeth extraction and mumble it’s okay if he wasn’t kind.

“The place is nice.” He ignores your statement and glances around your apartment and you feel smaller. You do feel a little relieved that he approved of the place, and you did spend hours browsing through catalogues and going through roommates until you decided that this was perfect. Granted, it was a little pricey but you valued comfort and a decent workplace to really get you motivated.

“Thank you.” You mumble, still shifting on the balls of your feet and Jimin just raises an eyebrow at your impersonal stance. You know he wouldn’t point it out because he wasn’t that kind of guy, but his face often spoke for him so you swallowed all the concerns you had and took a seat at the edge of the sofa, as far away from him as possible.

“Do you live alone?” He asks. You’re about to respond but he doesn’t let you.

“It’s dangerous if you do. Do you really just answer the door for anyone without checking who it is? You’ll get yourself into some serious trouble if you aren’t careful.” He chides you.

You want to scoff at him because you were an adult and you’ve learnt a few things along the road to adulthood. Jimin was always a little on edge most of the time and you knew he was just bad at expressing his emotions so you never faulted him for it. But now, you were a little older and not as naive—but unfortunately still very much into him.

“God Jimin, it’s fine—”

The door opens and both your heads immediately turn to the source, and Jimin is sharp with his movements and you try to not allow your heart to flutter when he tugs you closer to him and hides your body with his own as if he thought it was an intruder. But you knew better, so you knew it was—

“Tae. You’re back early.” You greet your roommate who only eyes the man on the couch who has you situated behind him like he was your personal shield. His bag is tugged over his shoulder and you see a few of his art supplies threatening to fall out so you hop off the couch to help him with his belongings, and Jimin’s gaze just burns harder onto the back of your skull.

When you’re close enough, Taehyung leans in and gives a brief glance over at Jimin who is still piercing him with a fierce gaze.

“Why is your booty call staring at me like I’ve murdered ten kittens?” Taehyung whisper yells and you glare at him, pinching his hip because just because he thought he was being quiet didn’t mean that he could easily get rid of his naturally loud voice.

“That is not my booty call!” You respond equally as agitated, “That’s … Jimin.”

Taehyung’s eyes bulge out of his socket when he looks over your shoulder once more to still see Jimin glaring at the two of you.

“Why is he so fucking scary? You said he was nice!” Taehyung hisses.

“He is nice!” You weakly defend, “He’s just … scary looking?”

You know it doesn’t convince Taehyung because he’s sighing and dropping his belongings to the floor, offering Jimin as sincere of a smile as he can muster even though you’re fully aware that he’s terrified of the man on your living room couch.

“Hi! I didn’t know _____ was having guests over. I’m Taehyung.” He smiles brightly at said guest but Jimin just blinks at his cordiality and then looks over to you.

“Is he your boyfriend?” The question throws you off guard and you can tell that Taehyung even more terrified when Jimin completely ignores his presence even though he was the tallest person in the room.

You splutter for a response even if the answer to that was obvious. But Jimin had a shitty way of interrogating people, even if it probably would work in legal settings because he was just terrifying enough for you to stumble over your words and make you look guiltier than you were.

“Unfortunately not.” Taehyung thinks he’s saving you when he lightly jokes with Jimin. And you want to facepalm because Jimin was aloof and impartial to everything, and had horrible skills of reading the room because you were sure that Jimin thought that Taehyung wanted to get in your pants.

“Tae, would you excuse us for a second?” You smile stiffly at Taehyung who is quick to oblige as he darts into his room.

Jimin now has his arms folded across his chest in a manner that makes him look more hostile, but you knew him well enough that you suppose he just had a lot of questions.

“Did you really have to be like that?” You ask irritably as Jimin scoffs at you.

“Please, do enlighten me. All I did was ask you a simple question, which you couldn’t even answer. What was that about?” Jimin responds equally as displeased but you had so many questions and you didn’t need to deal with his mini tantrum right now, especially between the walls of your own home.

“Don’t turn this on me! You turned up to my house unannounced after three years of no contact and you expect me to bend at your will? What do you take me for? A puppet?” You retaliate with petulancy and you can tell Jimin is slowly getting more annoyed by the second but won’t blow up just yet. Or probably because you had another person in the house.

“Am I not allowed to visit?” Jimin raises an eyebrow.

You scoff at his audacity because Jimin was seriously so bad at reading emotions. You weren’t even sure why you liked him but your heart never made reasonable decisions for you.

“We haven’t spoken in years, Jimin!” You throw your hands in the air, “I didn’t even know where you were or what you were doing because you disappeared like you were running away from a crime!”

“Did I need to update you on my whereabouts?” You know his question is genuine even though it was posed a little rough and you want to pull at your hair because obviously, you wanted to know! Jimin was the person you spent the most time with, outside of school, and one day he wasn’t anymore.

“Of course! I thought we were—I thought … why did you just disappear?” For some reason, it was hard to say that you and Jimin were friends either because the only reason why he’d ever tolerate you in the first place was that he was a good friend to Yoongi and you were just someone that came with it by association. He never outwardly said that he hated spending time with you but he never said he enjoyed it either.

Jimin raises an eyebrow and stands up, and you notice that he still towers over you. He walks towards you slowly, and you feel all the hotter under his intense scrutiny that you just want to retreat to your bedroom and forget this ever happened.

“You don’t need to know.” He says and you feel yourself deflate, “I wanted to visit because your brother’s worried about you.”

The confession just annoys you because you knew to a certain extent that Jimin wouldn’t be here from … wherever he was … if it was only for your brother. He had to give a shit somewhere deep down in him enough to make an effort to get your address from your brother, then turn up on your doorstep unannounced with his usual impassioned stare.

“Oh fuck off, will you? I’m not a little girl anymore. I can take care of myself.” You bite back.

Jimin shoots you an unimpressed stare at your snappishness and he won't lie and say that he was pleasantly surprised to see you after a long time. You were always pretty, in an unconventional way, he supposes. You never made an effort to look nice but just did with the way you approached life, even when you were younger. But now that you were standing in front of him with a bite that you didn't have when he left, he's intrigued.

"You weren't so rude before I left." He smirks at you.

His gaze also makes you burn and you avoid his eyes when it searches for yours. You hate that his tone makes you feel funny and that you wanted him to be a little mean.

"Yeah, well—that's what happens when you don't see someone after three years with no contact or notice. They change. They get a little annoyed because someone is just too emotionally constipated to ever make any effort to keep in touch." You narrow your eyes at him.

"Why are you throwing a hissy fit? Needed me to keep you company?" He prompts.

You flush but still glare at him.

"Whatever, Jimin. I just would've appreciated it if you called. Or at least have done something to let me know that you were alive." You mutter.

Somehow, he's managed to cage you in with his body against the back of the sofa, and your breath hitches when you feel his broad chest pressed on yours. You didn't realise it happened until he places his arms by your side, effectively leaving you with no room to leave. You gulp because this is the closest you've ever been to Jimin and you feel dizzy. He smells fresh like laundry and flowers. It's a huge juxtaposition to his demeanour, but he smells good and you want to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.

"Why would I? You're Yoongi's sister. Not my girlfriend." He smirks.

You huff and roll your eyes. The reminder stings a little and you know he's baiting you.

"So? Were we not at least friends?" You snap.

He wants to laugh because you're obviously annoyed at the casual way he referred to you as Yoongi's little sister. You're frowning but attempting to pretend that it didn't bother you.

Jimin would be lying if he said he was never interested. Because he was, undoubtedly so. But back then when you were still navigating your way at the beginning of adulthood with Yoongi constantly breathing down his neck, he would have never done anything to compromise his friendship with your brother; or lead you on. But now you were standing in front of him, soft and sweet with a little edge to you that draws him in.

"Do you usually have crushes on your friends?" He pushes.

Your eyes widen and snap up to look at his teasing expression. His smirk is apparent against the rest of his face and you feel absolutely mortified that he's so close to you when he called you out.

"W-What? A crush? I didn't have a crush on you!" You rebuff him with a stuttery voice and you weakly try to push him away.

But he locks you in position with his hands around your wrist as he leans down and crowds you further with his presence.

"You didn't?" He feigns hurt, then he pulls away abruptly and you're immediately chasing his warmth, "Shame. I would've liked that a lot."

You gape at him when he shuffles away, putting some distance between the two of you as he dusts his hands on his slacks, giving you a curt smile; one that never reached his eyes but that was still Jimin being friendly.

"Y-You what ...?" You squeak.

Jimin shrugs and walks towards your door and you're half-terrified and half-relieved at the prospect of him leaving. But you're more terrified because you don't know if you'll ever see him again and with your current interaction you don't think you'll ever get over him.

"Usually a cute girl crushing on me would be a huge ego boost ... but you didn't, so ..." He trails off.

You bite your lips as you play with your hands. You know he's teasing you and you didn't know when he's gotten so forward, or good at this game. But you suppose Jimin has always been charming too, even if he was bad at emotions. He was good at playing them. And the way he rakes his eyes over your body only to bite his lip makes you burn in want.

He's about to turn the knob of your door but you reach out to grab his wrist before your mind can tell you it's a bad idea.

"W-What if I ... what if I ..." You mumble, hands wrapped loosely around his wrist as he turns around, leaning against the door the way boys do that was super hot for no reason.

"Speak up, bunny."

The nickname only makes you blush harder because it reminded you of all the times he's ever called you that stupid childhood nickname that somehow followed you up until adulthood. But you had to admit the way that Jimin uses it makes you feel ...warm. Like you want him to call you bunny for whatever reason he does so.

"WhatifIdid ...?" You mutter quickly and softly that Jimin leans in to get a better listen, also prompting you to speak louder.

"Couldn't hear you." He sing-songs.

You grit your teeth and swallow your pride because even after three years, you were soft and pliant for Park Jimin even if he was hot to the touch. You just wanted to please him.

"What if I did?" You say a little louder, braver, with determined eyes, "What if I did have a crush on you?"

He grins at you in Jimin fashion that was still a little reserved but warm because you knew him. You knew that was what he wanted to hear. So, he rests his body against the door and gestures his finger in a come-hither motion to get you to step closer, which you oblige. It should've been offensive that he could summon you so easily, but Jimin was a lot of things but he would never take advantage of your passiveness.

"I don't know. What would you have done if I hadn't left? Play friends? Family maybe?" He teases.

You scrunch your nose at the prospect of playing family with him because you've heard that phrase way too many times. Your parents at one point kept on saying how you had two older brothers instead of one because Jimin was always there, but they were blissfully unaware of your crush and the way you'd frown at the suggestion.

"We would've hung out more ..." You mumble.

Jimin snorts but cocks his head for you to continue.

"What's the point of this?" You huff, shutting your eyes when you can feel his gaze on you.

"You tell me. You were the one with the crush."

You want to correct him and say am the one with the crush, but you bite your tongue.

"You're the one who wants to know." You respond with indignation.

He chuckles, low and deep before he tilts your chin upwards with his index finger.

"You're still a little girl, aren't you ______?" You think it's the first time Jimin has called your name the entire time he's been here and you almost whine with the sultry look he's giving you.

Jimin applauds his self-control because you were a sight to behold. Even if you were in sweats and a tank, with your glasses drooping slightly down your nose and tangled hair, you still were so appealing even if you didn't know. You looked comfortable, homey and it did make Jimin burn with an ugly monster to know that 'Tae' could see you like this daily.

"Am not." You growl, but he only thinks you look like an angry bunny.

"You are. You don't know how to ask for things, hm?" He hums, tracing a finger up your jaw to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I so do know how to ask for things that I want. I do it all the time." You retort petulantly like you had a point to prove but Jimin only chuckles darkly.

"Then what do you want right now?"

Jimin's question is expected but it also throws you off-guard.

"R-Right n-now?" You stutter.

He tuts as if he expected your bewildered and shocked expression.

"When else but now, bunny?" He whispers as his gaze has you locked in a trance when your eyes dart to his lips when he drags his tongue over it. You're entrapped in him because his mouth suddenly looked really inviting.

"I really wanna ..." You mumble, ears flushing a pretty shade of red and you lean into Jimin's hand when he cradles your cheek gently.

Jimin was capable of being gentle, even though he chose not to. But he never was, though there was something about you that made his territorial, made him want to fight. He didn't know when he started feeling this way but he supposed it was a flurry of emotions and the accumulation of the times he's spent with you throughout the years. Three years didn't do him justice and only made him think of you more. He knew he was hard to read, and frankly even harder to understand. Jimin also knew that you were fully aware of this fact. But that didn't deter you in trying to get to know him, to prick yourself against all his edges that were harder to accept.

You were sweet and naive, a type of person that Jimin would usually scoff at. But your one-dimensional and idealistic view of the world was fresh to him, even if that meant you were living in your head most of the time. It never took away from the fact that you were kind and understanding. The type of person that cracked all of Jimin's harshness made him want to try.

But it didn't mean he wasn't going to have his fun. He liked seeing you like this, gentle and warm, close to him as you look at him with a hazy expression.

"Wanna do what?" He prods, reaching his hand to the back of your hair to tug your face closer to his, but maintaining enough distance to prompt you to make the first move.

Jimin would do it. But he wanted to be sure that you wanted this, and not the idea of him. Sure, he was giving you hints and nudging you, but he also was aware of the fact that you'd never say or do anything that you didn't want. You were always clear-cut about this type of thing.

"You know ... that ... thing ..." You mumble, shifting on your feet as he glances down to your face.

You still looked unsure, but you leaned into his hold regardless, and Jimin took that as a good sign. You just need a little push.

"You know I'm not that bright. You need to tell me, bunny." He says gently.

You can't stop the small whimper in the back of your throat at the nickname and it's taking everything in Jimin's willpower to not take you against this wall. He would, but you deserved sweet things and he wanted to try be that for you.

"I ... I wanna ..." You whisper, "Wanna ... kiss you."

You clutch his t-shirt in his hands and when you glance up he's grinning widely as if he's won the lottery.

He nods his head ever so softly, and you take that as a cue to lean in.

When you do kiss him, you already feel your knees buckling because it's like everything you dreamed and more. Jimin was the right amount of assertive and gentle that makes you chase his mouth even if you were pressed up against him. He takes the lead eventually when his hand cups your jaw to angle your mouth deeper into his, and your body flush against his.

You feel like a teenager again having your first kiss, but it may as well be because you've always wondered what it was like to share your first kiss with Jimin back in high school.

"Is that all?" He whispers against your lips, but before you can respond—

"Oh fuck, I'm sorry!" You hear Taehyung squeak and that makes you pull away from Jimin, highly embarrassed to be caught making out with him against your door like a horny teenager.

You want to curse at Taehyung but he's already ducking into the kitchen before you can get any words out.

Jimin doesn't look affected, if anything, he looks pleased. The moment you shared a clear testament of who you belonged to and Jimin loved the fact of people knowing it was him.

When you look at Jimin, you're equally parts flushed from the kiss but giddy too. You give him a shy smile, and Jimin just chuckles lowly at your bashfulness.

"I'll see you around, ______," Jimin smirks at you when he reaches for the doorknob to leave. You follow him out, wanting a little more privacy even if it was in the hallway of your apartment complex.

When Jimin steps out and with you behind him, you swing on your feet as he observes your next actions. You clear your throat, even though you were confused and glad—because that was the closest thing you could get from Jimin that was affection so you'd take it.

"So ... what does this ..." You mumble, before shaking your head.

Jimin raises an eyebrow.

"What did I say about asking for what you want?" He berates you as if he was speaking to a child, but his tone is still curt and a little detached, but very like Jimin. You know that it's him and you like that anyways.

"Don't make me say it ... it's already embarrassing as it is ..." You whine, burying your head into his t-shirt.

Jimin welcomes the sudden closeness and pats you softly on the head. It's a little stiff because he still isn't used to physical affection that wasn't 'intimate', but he did say he would try for you.

"Again: I'm not that bright." He teases.

You roll your eyes, but then bite your lips when you see he's waiting for a response.

"... what does this mean for us?" You ask softly.

Jimin smiles at you and decides to grant you a gentle kiss to your forehead. A kiss that was so domestic and soft that you feel your heart soar.

"Check your phone." Is all he says when he waves you goodbye, as you stare at him dumbly, heart still fluttering and cheeks burning.

When you return back into your home, you lean against your door as you press a hand to your chest to feel the way your heart beats rapidly against it. You feel weak in the knees but so blissful that you let out a squeal into the palm of your hands.

Once you've calmed down, and offered Taehyung a look that said you'll explain later—you rush to check your phone, only to smile at what lies on the screen.

Unknown Number [17:21]: hi bunny

Unknown Number [17:21]: save my contact

Unknown Number [17:21]: make sure that when people see it they'll know you're mine

Unknown Number [17:22]: see you soon

Unknown Number [17:22]: if you're still a little slow ... it's jimin

Unknown Number [17:25]: ❤️

You notice the heart emoji was sent a few minutes after the rest of his texts, which showed you that he may have contemplated whether or not to send it. You feel your heart flutter, as you plop back onto your bed, a wide grin splaying on your face.

extra scene

"I'm sorry ... what?" Yoongi chokes on the piece of meat he just shoved into his mouth as he stares at his best friend in the face as if he'd grown another head. But as usual, he seemed to only attract people that were vastly similar to him, and Jimin's face is unreadable as ever. But Yoongi knows he's serious and not fucking around because he's looking intently at the older boy for a response.

"So?" Jimin says casually, leaning into his seat and Yoongi needs to chug down a glass of water to ensure that the food goes down all the way before he can say anything to the question Jimin just posed him with.

"You want my sister's address ... to ... I'm sorry, correct me if I'm wrong but I had a fall and I may have a concussion so I don't know if I'm hearing things right," Yoongi deadpans but Jimin just rolls his eyes at the older one's dramatics before nodding his head for him to continue.

"You want her address to ... confess to her?" Yoongi says hesitantly and Jimin nods his head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

But it wasn't. Because as long as Yoongi's known Jimin, he's been all detached and broody, uninterested in everything and everyone. He's never shown the slightest interest in anyone and usually opted for casual hookups than actual relationships so clearly, Yoongi is a little skeptical.

"Are you okay?" Yoongi asks baffled.

Jimin nods, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yes. I went for a medical check-up that day and my doctor said he's never seen results as impeccable as mine." Jimin says blandly.

Yoongi scoffs.

"You're just not ... the dating type, you know? Much less ... with my sister?" It sounds weird to even Yoongi's ears. He grew out of his childish mindset and had no problem with Jimin dating you, but it was still weird to see his best friend showing interest in you.

"I like her. And I respect you. Which is why I came to you before I did anything."

Yoongi gapes at his best friend, who looks much softer than he usually does.

"Wow ... I just ..." Yoongi exhales, "Damn."

Jimin offers a small smile before gesturing to their food.

"At least we can really be brothers now." Yoongi jokes, sliding a piece of paper with your address on it to Jimin.

Jimin smiles fondly at the paper before tucking it into his shirt jacket.

The image of you in white, smiling and looking only at him drives him to see you the next day.

#bts fic #bts imagine #bts fics #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts jimin #jimin imagine #jimin fluff #jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #park jimin fluff #park jimin fic #fluff #mutual pining #cute

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stargazer-balladeer · 3 years

Text

[i] - i’ll make you fall in love with me

Word Count: 2.6k

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“You’re staring again, [Y/N]~” Surprised at the sudden intrusion in your fantasies, you turn your head to the side to look at your friend, Hu tao. Smiling gleefully at you with a sinister mischief dancing in her eyes. “From how often you stare at him, it’s still a wonder that he hasn’t caught on your feelings for him~” She teased while snickering. Her comment made you huff in response and glare at her half-heartedly. “Shut up.” You groaned as you returned to the subject of your affection.

He always seems so busy. The kind that rarely has time for themselves. His blue crystallized eyes scanned the words of the book at his hands, so immersed in the contents of the book. His hair falling in front of his face, which he puts them back in their place. Chuckling to yourself when he had to straighten his hair for the 7th time in the past few minutes, his annoyance growing more and more. Makes you wonder what he looks like with his hair tied back. He’s so perfect. How could someone as handsome as him exist in your world? And to add to your delight, he was your classmate.

Hu tao sighed when she realized she lost you again, staring dreamily at the dreamboat of the school. Albedo was his name. Who was also known as the “Kreideprinz”. Good at Alchemy (Chemistry) and science. Aloof, quiet, and albeit of a loner. Has a little sister named Klee. And a female friend, who was a year younger than them, Sucrose. He was practically the definition of perfection. Almost too perfect to be exact...

“You know you can talk to him right~? He’s just a foot away from you~” Hu tao said with her usual teasing tone, taking her seat next to you, placing her hat gently on her desk. Shifting your attention away from the blonde, you leaned on your chair and sigh, a slight pout on your face. “If I talk to him, I might end up embarrassing myself. I can already hardly think properly when I’m around him..” You said, mumbling the last part. Just the thought of talking to him made your heart speed up. But the bigger problem is what would you talk to him about? Albedo is known for his boredom and uninterested personality whenever a subject is being brought up that doesn’t catch his interest.

Hu tao hums, eyes looking at the ceiling before looking at you, as she gave you a close-eyed smile. “Well, that’s your problem now, not mine~!” “Wow. You’re such a great help, Hu tao.” Rolling your eyes playfully with sarcastic leaking in your voice while Hu tao gleefully laughs. “I only specialize in the dead apartment, not the love apartment silly~”

“Why did you leave me, Hu tao..?” You whined under your breath as you continued to sweep the fallen leaves on the ground. Your beloved friend and seatmate decided to ditch you at the last minute saying that she has to host a funeral for her parent’s work. Sighing at your own foolishness in believing her obvious lie, you continued sweeping the leaves. The wind outside was howling loudly, making the leaves you’ve gathered dance around the air. Groaning while you watch helplessly while your hard work gets destroyed by the playful winds. But your irritation soon faded when you take in the scenery before you. The autumn-colored leaves fly through the sky, contrasting with the sky.

You continued to stare at the sky, mesmerized at the scenery, not noticing a figure going towards you. Their boots making the leaves crunch beneath them as they made their way towards your figure. Stopping behind you, taking in your figure. You continued to stare at the sky, unaware of the third party until…

“[Y/N].” The familiarity of the voice made it obvious who it is, especially if you’ve heard it countless times before. You tightly hold the broom with your hand, trying to squeeze out the sudden nervousness you had. Voice silky and quiet yet holds power in them. Taking a deep breath, you turn your head around to meet his striking blue eyes that shine under the glowing sky. Feeling warmth spreading to your cheeks, you looked away while coughing. If you were being honest to yourself, you were slightly intimidated by his sudden appearance.

“D-Do you need anything, Albedo?” You asked, your voice coming off as more of a mumble. Slightly embarrassed at the volume of your voice, you scolded yourself mentally. You just made a fool out of yourself. Luckily Albedo heard you, probably used to soft voice because of his shy so-called ‘apprentice’. “You see, Miss Lisa decided to make me clean outside since most people skipped out of their cleaning duties again. I was about to skip as well but Miss Lisa pulled the ‘if you don’t do what you’re told, you’re getting punished’ and we all know how she punishes people.” He paused while sighing, placing his hand on his forehead. “So, with no other choice, unless I want to suffer the wrath of a librarian, I made my way to the supply closet but found no broom there. Then I saw you with a broom. So, may I ask to borrow the broom? All I have to do is sweep a bit so that I can tell Miss Lisa that I cleaned.” He finishes his explanation. You can tell he was frustrated that the Head Librarian, Miss Lisa, made him clean instead of doing some weird experiments.

“Ah. I see.” You mumbled while nodding your head slowly. Deciding quickly that you could use a break from sweeping so you gave him your broom. You noticed that his fingers sightly graze against yours, slightly feeling the warmth in them. Feeling this, you quickly pulled back your hand. You swear your heart started to speed up even more. What you didn’t know is that Albedo was quietly observing you. “Thank you.” He said. Wordlessly, you nodded your head in response. Albedo starts walking towards you and picking up where you left off. You awkwardly stand at the side, deciding to lean on a tree’s trunk, watching him intently. The howling wind is now quiet and gentle, enough force to make yours and Albedo’s hair fly. You watch as his blonde hair flies with the wind, making him look more ethereal. His posture refined and his actions gentle. He really seems like a prince from a fairytale.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” His voice snapped you out of your mind’s imaginations. His comment made you dread for the worst as you realized that he was staring back at you with a blank expression on his face. You stared back with eyes wide and flushed cheeks, embarrassed at being caught red-handed. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to stare.” You stammered, feeling your cheeks become hot, your heart beating erratically in your chest. Why did you have to embarrass yourself in front of him of all people?

Tilting his head slightly, his eyes speaking volumes of his nonexistent interest in the current topic. “I can feel your stare, you know. I’m not stupid or naive.” His sharp tone made you flinch. “You’ve been staring at me so much lately. It’s starting to become annoying honestly.” Feeling your eyes sting from the rather harshness of his words, your eyes shifted to the ground as you tightly gripped your sweater. “If you have no business with me, please don’t disturb me with any of your stares from now on. Unless…”

Walking closer to you, he placed his finger under your chin, making you look up at him. Gazing deeply at the eyes of the ocean-color, his eyes held nothing but a storm of mixed feelings. Why? “You have something to tell me?” He finished, staring deeply in your [E/C] eyes. Feeling your lips dry, you lick them as nervousness surge through your veins. Was now such a good time?

Hearing no response from you after a couple of minutes, he sighed as he lets go of your chin. Turning around to pick up the fallen broom and giving it to you, not meeting your eyes. “I believe I’ve done my part now. You can continue the work. I’ve got to go to the laboratory now. See you tomorrow.” He said in a monotone voice, with a tint of disappointment if you listen to it carefully. As he started to walk away from you, his hair flying behind him, his hands in his pockets. This was your chance. No need to waste it. Say it now.

“I like you Albedo.” You said with utmost confidence that you can manage to get after taking a deep breath, staring at his figure with certainty in your eyes. Gripping the broom’s handle tightly as you started to explain yourself, not at all noticing how Albedo stopped walking. “I really like how smart you are! You’ve helped me multiple times already and I’ve always wanted to repay you but I don’t know how. I like how thoughtful you are with those closest to you. Even though you’re aloof and always uninterested, I still like that part about you! You’re always honest about your feelings and—!”

“Stop.” Eyes widening at his sudden interruption, you immediately went silent. Did you say something wrong? Maybe you’ve offended him accidentally without knowing. “A-Ah.. I said something wrong, didn’t I? I’m so sor—“ “No. It’s not that.” He said, interrupting you once more. You continued to stare at him, unsure what to do. Not noticing how he took a deep breath before turning his head around to look at you with such coldness and hatred in his eyes, making you flinch. You’ve never seen him this angry or cold before. Did you really make him mad?

“I don’t like you. There. Now stop annoying me.” He said sharply, venom clearly dripping from his voice, as he turned his head around and continued to walk, leaving you dumbfounded and heartbroken. You stood there frozen, staring at where he was previously. Zhongli, who was passing by casually, noticed you standing still. Approaching you with his hands behind him, he coughed slightly, trying to gain your attention. But seeing no response from his student, he grew worried. “Are you okay, miss [Y/N]?” He asked in a soft voice. When he didn’t receive a response again, he decided to peek at your face and was surprised at the tear-filled face you have. Sniffling quietly as tears continuously flow from your eyes. He immediately went in front of you as he stares at you with sadness and pity in his eyes. “Why are you crying? Was someone bullying you? Do I have to suspend someone-?” “N-No..” you sniffled, wiping the tears with the back of your hand. “I-I’m fine. Something just caught in my eyes.”

Zhongli knew you were crying but didn’t press it. “I see. I suppose I can accept that kind of reasoning for now. Come, let’s go to my office. I’ll brew you some tea to calm you down and then, if you want to, you can talk to me whatever troubles your mind.”

“Hey.. what happened to you~? You look as lifeless as a corpse~!” Even though she tried to act cheerful, you can hear the tint of worry behind her voice. The worry in her eyes as she stares at your rather lifeless body. You smiled at her, trying to cease her worry, but it resulted in her getting more worried for you. “I’m fine, Hu tao. I just… had a hard time sleeping yesterday. That’s all.” You said while taking a seat next to her. She narrowed her eyes at you before nodding her head. “K~ if you say so…”

As you made yourself comfortable at your desk, you didn’t notice a pair of eyes staring at you…

“... you know you can always skip gym if you don’t feel like it. No need to push yourself so hard. Or else you might end up being one of my clients hehe~” Hu tao giggled, how she managed to cover up her concern with a death joke, you can never understand. You sighed before shaking your head. “I’m fine. I can manage myself perfectly.” Hu tao sighs, her smile dropping to a disapproving frown. “If you push yourself too hard, I’ll personally drag you to the infirmary to rest.” “Yes ma’am.”

After the teacher gave out the assigned tasks for the period, everyone dispersed to do the tasks. You decided to run first with Hu tao, but it seems like you’re slowing her down as evidence of her stopping a few times for you to catch up to her. “You can go ahead. I’ll be fine on my own.” She stared at you before sighing. “Fine. See you at the end~!” After she sped up and went ahead of you, you continued to run at your pace. But your head started to throb painfully making you stop running, holding your forehead as you wait for the pain to stop. It doesn’t help that the sun decided to give out its harsh hot rays today. Deciding to sit down to make the throbbing stop, you sat under the shade of a tree as you try to stop the pain.

“Here.” Looking up immediately when a familiar voice reaches your ears, your eyes meet a pair of blue eyes, the same pair that held coldness and hatred within them yesterday. Your eyes trail to the outstretch bottle of water in his hand. “Take it.” He said, nudging it closer to you, urging you to take it. Hesitantly, you took it and drank it. What made you even more surprised is that he sat down next to you, letting his legs stretch on the ground with his hand on the ground as well. Feeling albeit uncomfortable at how close he is next to you, you scooted away from him a bit. Noticing your actions in the corner of his eyes, he sighed.

“Look. I’m sorry for the harsh words I said yesterday. I didn’t mean any of them. I guess I was just frustrated that nothing was going right yesterday, I’m sorry for taking it out on you.” Albedo apologized, his eyes gazing at the scenery before you. You stayed silent, still feeling hurt at his actions. He sighed once more. “I guess I gotta go. I don’t want to make you more uncomfortable or hurt than you are now.” He mumbled, standing up while dusting himself off. You stared at him at the corner of your eyes. Sensing your stare, he gave you a small smile in return. “See you later I suppose.”

Watching him go the same way he did yesterday made your stomach churn uncomfortably, the pain and sadness you felt yesterday was unforgettable. But you knew he was being sincere now. You saw how sorry he was in his eyes, and the fact he made time to apologize to you properly made your heart pound once more. I guess this is what they call love huh?

“Albedo!” Jumping at the sudden call of his name, he turned around to look at you. You were standing and smiling brightly, so bright like the sun, making his eyes widened a bit. “I like you! I know you don’t like me yet but, I promise that I’ll make you fall for me!” You exclaimed, adrenaline surging in your veins as you made your proclaim. He stared at you, dumbfounded before looking away, letting out a laugh, his hand covering his mouth. When his head turns to you once more, a glimmer of excitement and hope shines in his eyes, and a smirk settled in his usually stoic face.

“I’ll keep that in mind then.”

#albedo.series #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #albedo #albedo x reader #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact albedo x reader

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honeyxchoso · 3 years

Text

Promise (fuckboy!Satoru Gojo x reader) (college AU)

warnings: Gojo being a fuckboy who knows his effect on women all too well, MC's declining mental health implied

genre: angst? (sfw)

word count: 1.9k

“Please, just hear me out!” Gojo begged, face contorting into a desperate expression you knew all too well by now.

The scene is just like the numerous ones you’ve experienced in the past few months, all consequential to Satoru Gojo asking you out earlier that year. You should have known better. After all, you’ve been a witness of all of his intimate endeavours throughout high school. It was naive to assume that you would be spared of his promiscuous behaviour and that, somehow, this would be different.

“I promise you it won’t happen again!”

The exclamation just fell on deaf ears. That very promise, which he never fails to make in moments like these, has lost all meaning long ago. The sincerity fading more and more each time it was broken. These conversations, which once used to reduce you to tears, have now lost all meaning they once might have possessed.

All you know is the emptiness you feel resulting from your heart being shattered over and over again, your soul reduced to nothingness. You can no longer cry. You can no longer get mad. You are no longer surprised. Just a shell of the person you once were.

No longer are you even aware of your surroundings, lost in your own mind as Gojo spouted endless dubious apologies and false promises, all of which you’ve heard dozens of times before. How many times have you turned a blind eye so far? How many second chances have you given? How much longer will this go on? You do not know.

How did it come to this?

You and Satoru are first years in an honours programme at Jujutsu college, with you majoring in Biology and him in Physical engineering. Although you had known him since your first year of high school, you two have only gotten close in the summer leading up to your first year at college. During that summer, he’s managed to get closer to you than anyone ever has before. It really isn’t that difficult to imagine considering his flamboyant personality and stunning appearance.

Right now, you were at a cafe, waiting for Mr Perfect to show up for your weekly Math and Chem study session. You chuckle looking at a meme he just texted you. The lovely bastard is fashionably late per usual, but you are somehow never annoyed at that nasty habit of his. Five minutes of texting later, you feel a tap on your shoulder alerting you of Satoru’s arrival. Soon after the tap, you can feel his presence on the left side of your head.

“I think you can kiss heaven goodbye, as it must be a sin to look that good,” he proudly stated right next to you. You gazed to the side with widened eyes and your mouth slightly agape. It was just quick enough for you to catch a glimpse of those gorgeous sky blue eyes of his, mischievously peeking up at you from the pitch-black sunglasses the man always adorned. It truly was a sight to behold. To your great misfortune, however, it was gone as soon as it came, with him rising up to ruffle your hair a bit with his enormous hand before going to sit at the other end of your small table.

You focused on regaining your usual composure, as you’ve grown accustomed to his flirty persona during the summer while observing him picking up girls wherever you went. His sense of humour is just atrocious, but it eventually grew on you also. Despite his provocative behaviour and dirty humour implying he’s still very much immature for anything of the sort, you’ve started harbouring hope that one day, just maybe, he’ll give it a shot for you. Yes, as naive as it was, you couldn’t help but fall for the marvellous man sitting across from you.

You sighed at your inner turmoil and slightly irritably ran a hand through your hair. Satoru, of course, interpreted your reaction as you being annoyed at his borderline foul compliment and the thought elicited a deep, alluring chuckle from him. Slightly shaken from the beautiful sound, you plastered on a smile and looked at him, asking to begin your study session already since he was late again.

Two hours of studying later, you two were walking back to the student dorms on the other end of the campus site making small talk on your way.

“Argh! I hate this unit so much. Why do we have to memorise all the functional groups when it would be so much easier to just look them up in the data booklet during exams? It is so unnecessary!” you cried out, pouting while clenching your fists in exasperation. When Satoru didn’t respond, you relaxed your posture and turned to address him, only to blank out upon seeing the way he was staring at you.

He had a tender look on his face the likes of which you’ve never seen before. His lips formed into a small but genuine smile with his eyes relaxed as he just looked at you. You felt as though he was staring right into your soul. At this point, you both stopped walking instinctively and held your eyes locked wishing for the tender moment to last forever. Satoru was the first to speak up.

He called your name, not breaking eye contact. You just barely took notice of his voice, getting lost in his gorgeous blue eyes during your little moment just now. God, does your name sound good coming from his mouth. You barely had the common sense at this point to utter out a small “Hm?” and no notion whatsoever of what was yet to come.

“Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

You were baffled. The person you’ve been crushing on for months now just asked you out. You. Little old insignificant you. Too startled to form a coherent response, you replied with the only concern you had. “Me?”

After all, you were a nobody. You’ve seen the women who talk to him on a daily basis. The perfect height, athletic, well-adorned in all sorts of jewellery and fancy clothes, makeup perfectly done and never a single strand of hair out of place - those were the type of women surrounding Satoru Gojo. Compared to them, you were the lowest of the low. Your face contorted into one of confusion before your eyes started tearing up. This must be a joke...

That was only in the few seconds leading up to Satoru bursting out in a tear-inducing laugh. This did well to break you out of your small trance, sobering up a little before becoming even more confused. He asked you out, and now he’s laughing about it? Is this man in his right senses? You don’t recall him having any alcoholic beverages at the cafe so it can’t be. He stopped laughing soon after and used the tip of his right-hand sleeve to wipe away his tears.

“Of course it’s you, silly! It’s 10pm. We’re the only ones here right now!” he exclaimed, giggling a bit throughout forming his sentence still. This only served to confuse you even more. It must be a joke, then.

“You’re joking,” you voiced your thoughts. At this, his formerly happy expression fell and formed into one of concern.

“How could I be?” he asked. Seeming genuinely concerned as to why you’d think that. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips formed an unusual frown. “How could I ever joke about something like that? You have no clue what you mean to me, Y/N.” You could tell from his expression that he was being sincere, making you falter. Your face seemed to be enough of a response for him to continue speaking.

“You are honestly the best person I have ever met. You are strong and independent despite everything life has thrown at you. You are smarter than anyone I know. You have an amazing sense of humour and are a great listener. You’ve always been there for me when I needed you most. Along with being a good person, you also make me a better person myself. You fulfil me. Without you, I feel my very existence would be meaningless.” All the while saying this, he hasn’t broken eye contact once. “So I will ask you once again, Y/N, will you go out with me?

Following that evening, the two of you were in a happy relationship.

So how did it turn into this?

You first noticed something was wrong when you saw him dancing really close with a girl at a college party. He had his left hand low on her waist and his other hand entangled in her hair, bringing her closer so he could lean into her neck. It was just an embrace, right? Perhaps she was his friend who needed comfort of some sort? These are the excuses you made for yourself at the time to console the slight pang of concern and betrayal felt upon witnessing that scene. You never confronted him about that. At the time, you told yourself that was because there was no issue to address but reflecting on that moment now, you know it was the fear of your suspicion being proven right that discouraged you from bringing it up.

This happened about an additional five or six times before you started acting a bit more adverse to Satoru’s usual affection. You would no longer initiate kisses and would become stiff in his embrace. It was mortifying to know he was behaving so naturally around you when you know he’s off with other women when he thinks you aren’t looking. Despite this, the relationship was maintained as your love for him didn’t falter.

After a while, his endeavours would cause arguments. He would argue the women were coming onto him, that he was drunk or anything of the sort, just to get out of the situation, and you would argue he was fully aware of his promiscuous behaviour. These arguments would always end in forgiveness and the movie would rewind yet again. That is what led you where you are now. Your forgiving nature backfired and your feelings for the man were constantly extorted.

Sometimes, enough is enough.

It is time to put a stop to this neverending loop your relationship has turned into.

“Stop,” Satoru was still pleading for forgiveness when you interrupted him mid-sentence. Your simple exclamation seemingly pausing time, as it was the first word you have uttered in this conversation so far. Gojo looked at you anxiously, hope evident in his eyes that you would forgive him. Oh, how you loved those eyes of his, full of deceit.

“I’ve had enough. I’ve given you far too many chances and have been disappointed every time without fail. It is time for both of us to admit to ourselves that this won’t work. Not the way it is now.”

Despite your calm exterior, your previously empty inside now felt a sharp, anxious pain. No one said it was going to be easy. While the fear of change is strong, you know this is the right thing to do. Fear can bring no actual harm, but this relationship has and will continue to do so if you don’t put a stop to it. It is time.

“Goodbye, Satoru Gojo.”

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #au #alternate universe #college au #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo x you #gojo jujutsu kaisen

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plush-rabbit · 3 years

Text

The King with Golden Eyes

Warnings: Noncon, Dubcon, Implications of drugging/hypnosis Word Count: 5.4K A/N: I took liberties with his appearance and what ~powers~ he has, its kinda heavy?? idk

There’s a heavy weight against your neck. Tight and thick, a necklace of chains pushing you into the mattress, making your color deepen, darkening and veins pulsing and your body reacts before your mind, or your mind reacts before your body- you’re not entirely sure- and your heels dig into the mattress, harsh, ugly wheezing that sounds past your clenched teeth, your hands shaking and fingers flexing in the air, a crazed dance as they grab hold of whatever is on your neck, and tighten their hold, nails digging into something soft and silky. It finally registers to you that you can open your eyes, that the consuming darkness is because you have kept your eyes closed due to the horror that is of restricted air. But opening your eyes only adds to the horror.

The room is dark, shadows casted from the moonlight stretch into different shades and lengths against your room but what catches your eyes are the ones above you. Glittering in gold, unblinking and wide, peering into you with curiosity. Wide and innocent as whatever it is lays above you, weight against their hands as they choke you.

You cry and you beg for your life to be spared, vision spotting with a black that cannot be explained as it spreads like a dying film, burning against your vision and you cling desperately to the silk against your neck, arching your back and unable to push the person above you. You open your mouth to scream and a hand slaps your mouth. It makes your teeth rattle and ache and you can taste a faint hint of blood on your tongue.

Your room spins and memories blur, burning like film, spots clouding over faces as you take your final breaths. Your room, once smelling of citrus and peonies, is replaced by something richer, something that lays heavy above it, sophisticated and minty, sweet on your nose and stinging to your eyes.

“Please,” you whisper against the palm, trying to swallow the spit that has pooled in your mouth, trying to keep it from bubbling past the corners of your lips. You hold on tighter to the hand, your movements grow weaker, heels and kicks losing their kick as you succumb to the lack of breath. Your vision grows bleary, the deep weight against your chest growing heavy, thoughts subsiding as fog moves in, piercing, glowing eyes that look into you and as your hands slip from the silk, sliding past the wrist and onto the soft curve of your chest. Your breaths grow weaker, a mere breeze compared to the deep, ragged ones before, vision flickering in and out and your final thought is nothing tangible, incorporeal and enough to make your head hurt.

As if waiting for you to give up, the hands leave your neck. They slide down and cup your hands, the soft fabric gentle against your hands as they hold them tenderly, flipping them over and tracing the lines over your palms with such ease.

Breath is slow to return to you. Your body and mind in too much pain, too much awareness and lack of cognitive thinking that you lay still on the bed, your hands heavy and they slip an inch, only to be held tighter, in a grip that makes you whine under your breath, heading moving in a slow shake and your lips mouth soundless words of denial.

Your eyes are closed and beside you, something dips, the space under your sides deepening and there’s a flash of light that glows behind your closed eyelids. Something dark flashes across your closed vision, making a gruelly shadow appear over your body. The color in your face lessens, returning to your normal shade as you lay under your attacker.

You try to collect your thoughts. There is nothing that comes to mind and everything comes to mind and it’s all too much, filling you with such a terrible headache that you truly did wish you had died. Limbs heavy and carressed by whoever is above you, fingers that dance below your wrist in a walts and stop short of the crook of your elbow, watching as your skin pulses and twitches under and the eyes burn holes into your skin.

“Do you know who I am?” The voice says in a whisper. You can hear him sigh in displeasure. The hand on your arm moves and rests against your neck, fingers poised as they press down and search for your pulse, feeling it light underneath their fingertips. “You’re still alive. I see no reason why you have the audacity to not answer a simple question.”

“No,” you choke out below a whisper. “I don’t.”

The hand leaves your neck, a soft caress as it moves across your skin and lifts into the air. You aren’t ready to open your eyes and deal with whatever it is that you have to deal with. You aren’t ready to see your attacker linger above you in all their intensity and ferocity. You don’t think you can handle whatever is above you.

“I have many names,” the person says in a slow, tantalizing voice. “Names that vary from region to region-” you slowly begin to open your eyes, brows furrowing when light meets your vision- “names that people worship or curse under their breath-” it gets easier to breathe with each passing breath- “names that most confuse for what it is they are trying to seek-” you take a sharp gasp and close your eyes, blinking them slowly as the person above you ficuses in- “for now, you may call me Overhaul.”

You look above you and once again, you are unable to breathe. Above you sits a creature, beak fused where his nose and mouth should be, the beak plated in magenta and gold, gold that glistens from the lamp and is polished and smooth, not a single scratch against it. Golden eyes peer down at you, glistening and following your every movement, tracing down your face and tilting his head as he reaches your lips, gloves on hands, white and pure, pristine and clean against the creature. He wears a dark green cloak that wraps and covers his body, sheer and thick material that spins around and wraps around his body and a mix of fur and feathers that form against the collar and tuft out in all directions, brushing against his pale skin that is unblemished. Slowly, a glove is removed, pinched between the beak and letting the fabric fall onto your chest. His hand is large, fingers slender and fluttering against the air. Scale-like gold sticks to his skin, flickering out as it nears his cheeks and grouping together the closer it gets to his ears, getting lost underneath his auburn hair.

A pale hand reaches towards you, slender fingers that reach out with nails that are stretched and sharpened, claws that tap against your flesh, black, inky paint that decorate them is bold against you. The hand is cold to the touch, making you flinch against him, nails piercing your skin and his head tilts, golden eyes wide as they watch scarlet beads against his claws, and he pushes himself forward, the tip of his beak is a soft brush against your lips.

“Such a pretty mortal,” he murmurs, his hand leaving your face, watching his index intently as your blood stills on his finger, bright against the inky darkness. “So fragile and delicate-” his eyes flickering back to yours- “so naive and doltish.” His tone is soft, words whispered in a single breath, condescending and making you flinch as he reaches for you again. He sighs and rises from his position above you, the bed silent as he slithers off, raising his arms over his head, the mix of fur and feathers on his coat brushing against his ears, eyes coming to a close. You watch with fear, hands gripped tightly on your blanket, your neck still too tight and much too warm, the weight of his hand still lingers. “Do you know what loneliness feels like?” He asks, cracking his neck- loud and unforgiving and it makes a sinking feeling in your stomach deepen when you realize what kind of force it must take to crack something of his compared to your own. You fail to answer and he sighs, it’s exhausted and bored, tired like he’s just tired of it all. “Come on, I asked you a question-” he waves a gloved hand around, and you wonder how the fabric doesn’t rip under his claws- “don’t make me repeat myself. I’m not a fan of that.” he has a disgusted look on his face, head tilted to the side, eyes narrowed dangerously and you nod your head. He gives you a raise of his brows, his bare hand flexing against his side, your blood splashing against your floor.

“I-” your voice comes off in a single breath, and you clear your throat, tears springing to your eyes- “I do- I know what loneliness feels like.” It’s such a silly question, so miniscule and something that is only asked and answered when you’re too sleep deprived to realize what you’re really asking, too sleep deprived to know that you’re being vulnerable in a way that really matters.

“No, you don’t,” he corrects, clicking his tongue with a disappointed look in his eyes.

You mimic him, shaking your head, your eyes distant. “No, I don’t,” you whisper.

“How could you-” he says the word like its poison on his tongue- “know what true loneliness is like? You’ve only been alive for a blink of an eyes while I’ve been here since-” his voice trails and there’s an odd spark on them- “since a long time.” He glances back at you and laughs softly, his hand curling over the top of your head and threading his fingers through you. “What is loneliness like to you?”

“I- It’s when you’re cold or uh,” you pause and you can’t seem to find the words to describe what loneliness really is. Have you truly felt it? Have you ever felt the loneliness that he so desperately wants to describe?

He laughs and it’s like the laugh an adult gives to a child, a laugh so pitiful and forced to make someone feel better and he gives it to you. He twists a piece of your hair around his finger, watching strands peek and unfurl with just a simple pull. “Of course you wouldn’t know,” he coos. His voice raises, booming and echoing against your walls and making a picture frame rattle. “You could never understand the loneliness that I felt. The emptiness that swirled in me, made my blood ice cold, fury, a white burning fire that scorched everything in its path-” he sweeps his arms out in front of him- “the solitude and boredom that I felt waking up everyday. The emptiness that made me broken,” his voice falls to a whisper, brows furrowed into a pinch, “an emptiness that won’t ever be fixed no matter how much time passes. One that physically hurts and makes me sick,” he spits out, voice low and menacing. His hands cover his beak, running down the golden grooves, glove against him and sweeping off, his bare hand following in motion and falling against his side. “You’ll never understand what true loneliness is.”

You don’t know if you should apologize to him for assuming that you could know what it is he felt. But there’s also the chance that he would hate your pity, that he would hate to be pitied by a mortal. You’re tired and scared, mind foggy the more that you look at him, the gold on his body shimmering against the dim glow of your lamp and making you squint as you gaze among him. You want to fall asleep, but you’re too terrified to do so, unable to move, unable to respond to his rant about what it means to be lonely.

“But I don’t have to be lonely anymore,” he comments and his hands are wrapped around your forearms. “Do you want to know why?”

You nod your head. “Yes, please.” You don’t want to. You’re too afraid of the answer. There’s only one reason why he would show up to you, why he would make his presence known. His hands tighten around you, pulling taut against your skin and imprinting himself there and his skin burns. It’s cold and freezing, making you wince, fear in the back of your mind that his hand will get stuck against your warmth and it’ll have to be pulled off with little care towards your own safety.

“Because I have you.” He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, something so simple and easy to understand. The fog that settles in your mind turns thick, unable to be rid of and making your eyelids droop, your vision blurring and when you yawn, tears forming and clinging to your lashes when you close your eyes, only to open them and find that his beak gone, replaced by what a human looks like. And slowly the fog dissipates. “I forgot how delicate mortals are to Gods. My apologies, dear.” He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and when his hand comes into view, the claw is filed, a regular nail in its place, black and normal looking and you’re completely terrified.

“I don’t know what to think,” you whisper. You really don’t. There’s too much information to process with a mind that is barely starting to lose its fogginess.

He smiles at you, pleased with your truthfulness. “Of course you don’t.” He sits at the edge of your bed, holding your hand in his. “You see,” he starts off slow, grabbing your finger in his hand, “I am known as Overhaul- ruler of the Underworld- and for far too long I have been alone. Emptiness and loneliness filling me like a disease and infecting every inch of my body with a pain that won’t go away no matter what I do. But-” he curls your finger and rubs over the nail- “one day, I found you.” His smile is twisted, lips stretching upwards, teeth exposed in a cruel joke of a grin, almost wistful and fully bone chilling. “You were gathering flowers for a friend I funeral I believe. You were out in a field, your dress bellowing in the wind, basket in hand and despite the tragic event, you still had this smile- small, like you were remembering the good times that you had with your old neighbor and well- the way you decided to just spend the rest of your days holed up in your room, too distraught over the fragile life of a human- really now, there’s no reason to cry,” he murmurs, wiping away a tear, catching it on his thumb. “They were old- they were going to die eventually. There is no reason to cry over such a fleeting life-” he waves his hand in the air- “now as I was saying, you were just so alone.” he pauses and tilts his head. “Huh,” he breathes, “perhaps you do know what it’s like to be lonely. No one visited you did they? They all tried to comfort you but they didn’t care. You cried over some lady that was meant to die and-” the smile reaches his eyes and it makes them glow- “you were alone. And so was I.” He holds your face in his hands. “But not anymore.”

Tears flood in your eyes, burning and spilling over, slipping into his palms and making your vision blurry. “I don’t want this,” you breathe out, still against his touch. “None of this is making sense and I-” You’re quieted with a hand that covers your mouth.

“See, I’m not asking you. Of course, you wouldn’t understand or it would take you longer. If I had to be honest, I wasn’t exactly thrilled at what you made me feel either, but here we are.” He sucks in a deep breath. “You’ll understand eventually. You’re going to have to.”

“Please O- Overhaul,” his name is thick on your tongue, “I- If you’re the ruler of Underworld then you should be able to have any- someone who isn’t a mortal. Someone with a fragile life and- and-” you don’t know what else to say. You can’t reason with him. As human as he looks right now, you can see the gold that still adorns his skin, the coldness of his body that makes you flinch, his sharp teeth that are too pointed to be human and the way that his eyes remain bright, glowing even in the light.

He clicks his tongue. “I see no reason why I have to look elsewhere when I already made my decision.” His hands grab at your blanket and he pulls it close to him, your bare legs pricking with bumps and he ignores your gasps and attempts to grab at the blanket, yanking it out of your hands with a simple tug. “Like I already said, I’m not looking for your consent with this. I’ve made my decision already and I’m not changing it to some other mortal that isn’t worthy.” The blanket is folded and he raises from the bed, placing the blanket on a spare chair beside your bed. He turns to you, his shoulders squared and the other glove slipping off of his hand and disappearing into the green folds. “I don’t have to threaten you-” he steps towards you, heels clicking against your floor- “I rather not deal with the mess.” He kicks his shoes off and places them in a neat line, coming to straddle you, his knees against your sides. “I’m not a fan of mess so don’t make me do something that will only result in my anger.” He looks down at your bare legs and with a small push of his hand in between your thighs, your legs open, your gown barely covering what is to be hidden from viewers. “You mortals commemorate events, don’t you? Something to show the love between said lovers?”

“Oh god,” you gasp out, chest heaving and your hands coming to cover your eyes.

“Funny,” he chuckles, “but there’s not a god who’s going to meddle in my affairs.” He flashes you a smile, innocent and wide, lips curled over his teeth and eyes closed. “See, I have a habit to be rather intense.” His eyes open and all pleasantries have vanished, leaving a hungry look in his eyes. “Now, I want to make sure that tonight is perfect. It is our first night together after all.”

As if holding a mind of their own, the robes slither off of him in groups, strands and ribbons mixing in and slipping off, the feathers falling down his back and disappearing before they reach the middle of his spine. He is bare above you and he looks intrigued as he stares at you, bottom lip trembling as you mouth an old prayer, not daring to look at whatever is in front of you and he sighs, boredom laced into the air. He grabs your legs, hooking them over his arms and pushing them close to your chest, your core hidden under your underwear.

“I didn’t want to have you less than cognitive during our first time, but if you refuse to look at me, there’s only so much I can do.” The air around electrifies, sizzling and crackling, the pressure rising and making you feel like you’re about to burst until it drops and everything returns to normal, your mind growing heavy and hands slipping down the side of your face, palm face towards the ceiling and fingers curled inwards. “The effects will dull over time but for now-” the beak is solid, strong and sturdy as it brushes against your cheek- “you’ll feel heavy and slightly aware of what your surroundings.”

Your core, once protected by a single piece of cloth, is exposed, meeting the cool air and your body reacts, heat pulsing and flexing against nothing as he runs a hand down the slit, feeling your bundle of nerves tense under the stranger’s attention.

“Please,” you murmur, “I can’t- you can’t-”

“Oh?” Gold flickers out, long lashes fluttering in disbelief. “Is the mortal commanding me now?” He gives you a tired sigh, shaking his head softly. “Little human,” he says gently, “you really have no say in this matter. You see, alongside my loneliness came boredom and nothing quite pleased me the way it should, but I’ve watched you for quite a while at this point and I know how you would go under the blankets and have your hand slip between your folds while you clawed at the bedsheets.” A hand traces against your inner thigh, the feeling soft and ghostly as he continues to talk. “Such a high libido for such a little thing. Always before the dead of night and washing yourself right after- so cute and clean.” He dips his head, the beak barely grazing above your sex and you hear him take in deep breath. “I could always smell your sex. Sp intoxicating and abundant in the air. To be honest, I’m surprised with how long I lasted before I finally came in.”

Your words of plea fall onto deaf ears as a slender digit is pushed inside of you, moving experimentally inside the gummy walls. “Overhaul,” you choke his name out, “please.” Tears fall over the curve of your face and spill onto the pillows as he adds another finger, curling and petting them inside of you, drool pooling in the back of your mouth.

“I was going to kill you. Put you in my realm but then I wouldn’t be able to feel your warmth,” he muses, twitching his fingers inside, head tilting at the soft shucking noises that emit. “I didn’t know humans can get so wet,” he comments, pulling his fingers out, watching in fascination as your essence sticks and breaks apart as he pulls his fingers. “A work of art,” he mumbles, staring at your sex.

His digits are pressed inside of you, slender fingers that move expertly inside, massaging against your gummy walls. Your body reacts to the stimulus, mind fully against it as you let out a sob. Your legs kick out, nudging against his, your hands curling into soft fists where red blooms as you tighten them only to loosen as he presses his fingers deep within you.

“I don’t want this,” you sob, turning your head to look away from him, vision blurring and images dragging around in a lag. “I’ll do anything else, please, just not this.” You let out a shuddering breath, high pitched and shaky, chest heaving as tears spill and sully your face.

His eyes meet yours in a lazy roll of the eyes, a thin brow raised as he holds a hand in the air. “You see,” he starts with a drawl, “as much as I enjoyed your muffled moans, I’m not one to really care about your pleading. So either you shut your mouth or-” his hand flexes turning to a shade of red, dark and pulsing with black lines running through him, thick and thin, twisting and intersecting with the other lines- “I have to show you just how awful I can really be.”

Your eyes widen in fear, feeling the air sizzle around him, practically feeling the power that courses through him. The arm is thick, muscles protruding with claws that mimic the color of his skin, shape and flexing against the air. Snippets of black veins reaching past his beak and coursing through his face in a mask, creasing as he narrows his eyes at you, his beak slowly opening and drool spilling out. You yelp when it touches at your thighs, sizzling and searing into you, your muscles flexing, back arching as you try to kick your leg in a desperate attempt to get the drool off. The monstrous hand is placed against your thigh and wipes the drool off, and you watch as it morphs back into a regular hand. You slowly close your mouth and eyes, nodding your head.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, voice sultry, and his beak stretches, pulling into what you assume to be a grin. His fingers flex inside of you, curling and prodding against your walls, watching your face scrunch up, tears beading against the corners of your eyes as you contract around him, suckling his digits further into your body. “You see, you're already enjoying this.”

The pressure forms quickly. It’s searing hot, budding and blooming in your lower belly, a tight coil as it wraps around and pulls you further, arousal leaking past your lips, making you shine in a pale glow. You grit your teeth, breathing harshly through your nose, rolling your lips in order to keep your cries muffled, your hands clawing against the sheets, twisting them until your wrists hurt, aching and clit pulsing as he continues his assault.

“You’re close, aren’t you? Your scent when you reach your little high is something I won’t forget.” He takes a deep breath or air, head tilted upwards, his beak parting slightly and thin strands of drool roll against the appendage. He comes down with a bob of his head, eyes half lidded and darker. “I’m sure that it feels good, so why don’t you thank me?” You shake your head, biting your bottom lip, whining under him as you try to get a control on your body. “No? You see princess, I’m only being good to you so I can go in easy but you’re already stretched enough. So either you thank me and I let you reach your high or you keep being an ungrateful brat and I’ll make sure that I reach my own high.” The fingers inside of you stop moving, slipping out leisurely.

“No,” you breathe out, clenching at your sex, feeling arousal slip past your quivering hole. You cover your mouth with your hands, brows furrowed and body shaking.

His fingers pinch at your bud and you cry out. “Beg for it.” You give him a horrified look, mouth parting open in disbelief. “Beg for your King to make you feel good-” he leans close to you, beak grazing above your cupid’s bow- “and I promise to make my subject pleased.”

You keep your lips shut tight, eyes pinched together as the headache swirls to a stop, heavy and dull against your frontal lobe, eyes heavy from glancing at him, breaths coming to a shallow, slow stop. The tightness in your belly dissipates, flowing into nothing and leaving you tense. You whine as you feel his hands hold onto your thighs, a soft brushing of his nails, your essence trailed and against your warm skin.

“I suppose you’re going to stay quiet.” He doesn't wait for a reply, grabbing at your legs and pulling you close to him. Your heat is flushed against something rigged, something that is hard and pokes against you. “Shame. But you’ll beg for it in due time-” his beak nuzzles against your neck, the sharp tip pointed against your pulse- “we both know that.”

You’re left breathless as something firm is pushed inside of you, expanding against your walls and filling you deep, a heavy groan that reaches your ears and mixes in with your whines of pain, hands twisting and pulling taut against the sheets, your breath coming out in harsh puffs of air through your nose.

“”S hurts,” you mewl, “Over- Overhaul,” his name breaks against your tongue, “it hurts.” Tears flood your eyes and spill over in heavy, warm trails.

“I did tell you to beg for it and you were the one who denied my offering of pleasuring you-” his breath is warm against your flesh, fanning across you, the beak is solid against you, poised and sharp as it moves against the sensitive area of your neck- “you only have yourself to blame.”

He pushes himself deep against you, hissing through his beak, eyes clenched shut, a hand gliding up to your chest and gripping at a breast painfully, the other coming to hold himself up, palm flat against the bed. You try to squirm away, twisting and turning your body, your words slurring together and getting choked up as he ruts against you. He pushes himself deep, your walls molding and entrance burning with an unfamiliar pain as you’re forced to widen around him, molding into his shape.

“Overhaul, please-” you push against his chest, eyes stinging with fresh tears, throat raw- “I’m sorry. It hurts.”

He coos near your ear, the tip of his beak creating a thin cut that runs below your jawbone. “Now you know better,” he sighs, rolling his hips against yours, the tip of his cock hitting against your cervix. “You see I’ve bred many before you, so-” his voice turns into a soundless moan as he feels your walls tighten- “tell me, do you think you could produce an heir?”

“No,” you gasp, pushing harder against his chest, “please- no.”

“You’ll be a lovely mother,” he praises. “Full of my child and tits full of milk, ah,” he groans, head rising and beak pulled apart, thin and thick strands of clear saliva stretch from the top and bottom beak. “A sow made for breeding.” He makes an attempt at a laugh, rich and broken by cawing. “A beauty all for me.” His beak presses against your lips, the top of his beak presses between your lips, parting them, a slimy, heavy tongue slipping past and filling your mouth, drool forming and spilling between the corners of your lips and when he looks up he has a smug look, brows raised and eyes glinting. “While I’m not a fan of spilled fluids, I must say that the drugged out look suits you nicely,” he comments cooly, hips never slowing as he searches for his release.

“Overhaul,” you sob, your hands falling from his chest and fluttering over your mouth, wincing at the stickiness that is your drool. “I can’t- Too much.” The pain subsides, dulling for a moment as pleasure overtakes, your body choosing to enjoy what the God above you wants, fluttering and tightening around his shaft. You feel as if you’re about to leak, bursting at the seams, your core tight and pulsing, muscles tightening as you can feel the edge of it lap around your sex. “Please-” your eyes roll to the back of your head, your mouth stretching open and you begin to arch your back- “it’s too much,” you wail behind your palms.

“There’s the pretty girl,” he croons, thrusting deeper against you. “Obedient and pretty. What a good little thing.” He continues to move inside of you, cock heavy and flooding you with warmth as clicking sounds fill the room. His eyes come to a close, brows twitching as he reaches his edge, essence dripping past your leaking core and wetting the sheets below. “I can’t wait to see your belly swell,” he says in a gentle voice, the tight grip against your breast releasing and going to curve over your stomach. “It’ll be a sight to see,” he murmurs, head tilting and eyes squishing into what could be a smile that reaches his eyes. “My human-” he slams against you- “filled with my seed-” he twitches his head as he thrusts against you, voice cracking and strained- “what a sight to behold,” he breathes out, stilling above you, warmth flooding inside.

You gasp, closing your eyes and biting the inside of your cheeks as thick discharge floods out of you, warm and filling, pushing deep inside of you until it can no longer fit and sliding out in slimy trails that make your legs twitch and cunt leak. You stay still, turning your head and flinching when his hand caresses your face.

“I’m no longer alone,” he breathes out, and the air around him comes to a still, the air lightening and you’re able to think without your thoughts being pulled and jostled. His lips are soft against yours, an innocent peck against your lips. “And neither are you.”

You look up, tired eyes meeting golden ones that shine and shimmer, glinting and glittering against the dim light, looking at you filled with promise and false love. He smiles delicately at you, body still pressed against yours and face held tenderly. He rests his forehead against yours, the shadow it creates is small and only darkens lightly, but his eyes still glow bright, gold and menacingly.

#chisaki x reader #kai chisaki x reader #kai chisaki imagine #chisaki kai x reader #overhaul x reader #bnha overhaul #overhaul imagine #yandere overhaul #bnha imagines #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw:drugging #why did i go so far with this fic #sorry lol #i hope you like it

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august-anon · 3 years

Text

Tickle Monster

sequel to Tickletober 2020 Day 13 - “Wake Up!”

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Someone on ao3 asked about a sequel to that fic literally in October of 2020, and mentioned it again in Jan of this year, and I’m finally posting this. I am so sorry this took ages, whoever you were, I hope you enjoy this lol

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Fandom: Gravity Falls

Ship(s): Gen!!!!!!

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Ford,Mabel,Dipper,Stan, Ler!Ford,Mabel,Dipper,Stan

Word Count: 1720 words

Summary: Dipper and Mabel complete their mission, distracting Great Uncle Ford, with flying colors. Unfortunately for them (and for Stan), Ford knows how to fight back.

[ao3 link]

ALSO: warnings for some light angst in the beginning because apparently i can’t write Ford as not angsty lol

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Ford sighed as he watched Stanley go, that lost, desperate look still in his eyes. He really didn’t know what to do to help him at this point, and that hurt more than Ford had been prepared for.

It seemed that he just kept failing people.

He started this whole thing. He came to Gravity Falls in the first place. He brought Bill into this world. He was foolish and naive and power-hungry enough to listen to Bill’s lies. He built the portal Bill wanted, not considering the dangers. And he failed to protect his family, Stan especially.

And now his own brother could barely remember him.

Ford forced himself out of his thoughts as he moved toward the refrigerator. He said he’d make breakfast, so that’s what he’d do. Eggs could be easy enough, maybe even omelettes? Or perhaps pancakes, they were probably easy, right? They were just flour and eggs… and maybe they had some sugar in them? He’d figure it out.

He let out a bitter smile as happy, childish laughter rang out from the attic. Stan was a far better great-uncle than he was, even with his lapses in memory. It wasn’t really all that surprising to Ford.

Ford hadn’t really made all that much effort to be good with the kids, after all. Yet another failure of his.

He continued to struggle with breakfast, his bowl of pancake batter looking more like foaming grey sludge than anything edible. It seemed his multitudes of knowledge didn’t extend to cooking. He was debating starting over, maybe trying to actually find a recipe somewhere in this old shack, when he heard tiny footsteps thundering down the stairs.

“Great Uncle Ford!” Twin voices rang out.

Ford turned away from the counter, plastering a smile on his face that was probably more of a grimace. Dipper and Mabel slid into the kitchen on socked feet, giddy and giggling. A far cry from the tear-streaked faces he saw when he checked on them at night, making sure they were still there and alive, and finding them curled together in one of their tiny twin beds, clearly shaken by nightmares.

“Hello, kids,” he said. “You’re rather awake for the early hour.”

Mabel gave him a mischievous grin. “We’ve been tasked with distracting you.”

Ford furrowed his brow. “What--”

The two launched themselves at him and Ford’s eyes went wide in shock. He reached out to catch them so that they wouldn’t slip and hit the floor (tile floor and heads did not mix, Ford remembered that well from tussling with Stanley back in the day), but in doing so he overbalanced himself, toppling backwards and taking the kids down with him.

Before he could even begin to process what had just happened, and just what Mabel had meant by distracting him, he had two tiny bodies on top of him, pressing him into the tile. They had matching devilish grins focused on him, and Ford wondered what the hell Stanley had told them, and whether or not he needed to get up and run.

“Grunkle Stan told us about a monster that you might not have in your journals,” Dipper said, leaning forward.

Ford scrunched his face up in confusion. Was this just a distraction, as they said, or was Dipper telling the truth? Just as he opened his mouth to ask for clarification, Mabel leaned forward as well.

“Yeah, yeah! It’s such a cool monster, too! You know what it is?”

Ford shook his head, playing along. “No, what is this monster?” Perhaps if he placated them, he could get back to making breakfast before Stanley came back down and saw his pitiful progress.

Dipper and Mable exchanged an evil glance and grinned down at him. They raised their hands, fingers shaped in claws and wiggling wildly, and Ford felt a spark of recognition run through him. His eyes widened before they even answered.

“The Tickle Monster!” They shouted in unison.

And then, before he could even blink or think to defend himself, he had four tiny hands wiggling into all sorts of sensitive places. Ford tossed his head back against the tile and snickered quietly, trying to keep the worst of his laughter in. He couldn’t let two children best him!

But Mabel’s fingernails were wreaking havoc on the nerves of his ribs and neck, and Dipper’s fingertips digging into his sides and stomach weren’t serving him much better. He forgot how uncoordinated he got when he was tickled, not having been subjected to it since before Stanley got kicked out when they were younger. His hands were flailing everywhere, unable to latch onto either twin and save himself from their playful torture.

“No no no, you’re doing it all wrong,” a voice called out from the entryway.

Ford felt a mix of dread, excitement, and anticipation fill his belly when he saw Stanley standing there. It only grew when he saw the spark of recognition in his eyes as he stalked closer.

“You gotta do it like this,” Stanley told the kids, and unceremoniously stuffed his hands into Ford’s armpits, scribbling away.

Ford howled, curling in on himself as best he could with two almost-teens still sitting on top of him and Stan looming over top of them all. He cackled madly and he could feel the tears building up in his eyes the longer the playful torment went on. It was so embarrassing, so humiliating, so…

Fun.

It felt kind of nice to let loose and laugh like he was, something he hadn’t done in a long time. The fingers driving him insane left him with no chance to overthink things as he usually did. All he could do was laugh and squirm and gasp for air.

The tickling abruptly halted and Ford sucked in a much-needed breath. He was naive to think it was over, however, because Stanley only grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head before grinning at the kids. A nervous, playful, fluttering feeling filled his stomach, and he shot a look down at the kids.

“Have at it,” Stanley said.

Dipper and Mabel laughed before darting forward, burying their hands into his armpits. Ford was lost to his hysteria once more, only this time it was worse. His hands were pinned, he could even pretend like he was trying to defend himself from their dancing fingers, and he was too weak from laughter to tug his hands back.

Just when Ford was finally reaching his limit, he tilted his head back and made teary eye-contact with Stanley. Stanley gave him a smirk and a wink before releasing his wrists and setting Ford free.

Ford shot up, still laughing, and tackled Dipper and Mabel to the ground, careful to cushion their fall and avoid any injuries.

“Do you know what’s even worse than a Tickle Monster?” He asked, voice hoarse from the laughter his vocal cords were no longer used to.

Dipper and Mabel were giggling and squirming, clearly having picked up on where this was going, but neither made an attempt to escape. They shook their heads.

Ford raised his hands, fingers curled threateningly into claws, just as they had done to him. “A six-fingered Tickle Monster.”

Dipper and Mable squealed as his hands darted forward, the two soon lost to childish shrieks and cackles as he tickled away. The wide grin still hadn’t left Ford’s lips, even as his cheeks and eyes began to dry from his own mirthful tears. He even let out a few more chuckles at particularly silly sounds the kids made.

Maybe he wasn’t such a failure with them, after all.

But there was still one thing missing from their morning full of laughter. Ford turned around, slowing his ticklish assault on the kids, searching out Stanley. He stood at the counter, a new mixing bowl in front of him, making something that looked a lot closer to pancake batter than Ford’s attempt was.

Oh well, can’t win them all.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook,” Ford growled playfully.

Stanley froze, his body tense, and he slowly turned around to face Ford, a nervous smile spreading across his lips. His hands were raised in surrender, and he looked ready to bolt at any moment.

“You were just so sad this morning,” Stanley tried to reason with him, “I thought the kids could help cheer you up.”

Ford raised an eyebrow. “If I remember correctly, you were rather melancholy earlier, as well.”

They stared each other down, trapped in their little stand-off as Dipper and Mabel giggled quietly behind Ford. Then, Stanley tried to bolt, but Ford was much faster, the two of them crashing to the floor in no time. He quickly got Stanley pinned underneath him.

“Any last words?”

Stanley scowled (though Ford could see the amusement dancing in his eyes, so he wasn’t too worried), but Ford never actually gave him the chance to speak. He dug his fingers in, skittering around with no rhyme or reason as he mentally catalogued Stanely’s tickle spots. Eventually, he settled on Stanley’s ribs, the left side, the second rib from the top (that always used to get him screaming), as well as the little patch of skin on the right side on Stanley’s stomach, just a couple inches under his ribcage (that always used to get him begging for mercy). Stanley yelled and burst out into wild laughter, shoving at Ford’s hands but being too weak to stop him.

“You little--” Stanley started to yell through his laughter, but Ford cut him off.

“Ah ah ah, there are children present, Stanley.”

Stanley only cackled louder. Though that could have also been due to the fact that Ford had upped his tickling.

But speak of the devil and he shall appear, for the kids chose that moment to again make themselves known. Dipper attached himself to Ford’s back, shoving his hands into Ford’s armpits and clumsily tickling away. Mabel, on the other hand, launched herself into Stanley’s chest and started scribbling away at his stomach and sides.

Alright, Ford thought. The kids want a tickle fight? I’ll give them a tickle fight. And he dove back into the fray.

Needless to say, breakfast soon became brunch and the Shack was filled with laughter for a long time to come.

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remsmoonlight · 3 years

Text

— title : glitter in the sky

— word count : 2.3 k words

— pairing : loki x reader

— summary : before putting into place his plan for thor’s coronation, he seeks you out one more time for comfort only you can provide

— warnings : maybe a teeeeeny bit of thor bashing but incredibly minor .. love ‘im fr , bit of sadness

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　requested ? nope　/ requests are open *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

an: i got this idea, first from watching the first thor movie because aw, and then moving onto silent hill and that field scene is a whole vibe..... who doesn’t wanna just chill randomly in a field with the sun on your skin with no responsibilities? hell yeah .. anyways this just got away from me in a way ha

Trailing your gaze up to the sky, your eyes marvel at the merging colours as you study them intently, witnessing the blend of hues and tones from a bright blue to a mixture of warm pinks and burnt oranges light up the surrounding area before you knew they would fade into nothing more than a dark blanket who’s only source of light would be the moonlight and the stars that would litter it.

Your shoes crunching the dry grass and the sounds of chirping from the various wildlife encompasses you, it takes all of your strength to not allow a large grin to brighten your features.

Despite being so late in the afternoon, time walking on a fine line towards the early evening, the heat from the sun is still so strong, comfortably toasting your skin as a heavy blanket on a cold winter’s night would.

In the distance you’re able to spot the intimidating stature of the aged tree, though it’s intimidating in name only ⎯ for now it holds only those memories that lay locked deep within your heart. Your situation is a rather unusual one. Many summer afternoons had been spent shielded from the harsh rays of sunlight that shone over everything it could touch, though they hadn’t been spent alone. Rather, they’d been spent with an exceedingly phenomenal man. Can he even be called that? You wonder to yourself, Loki was far from human. Far, far from it.

“ to think I had been of the belief you would not be appearing. “

The suddenness of the voice slicing through the noises of the concealed fields would have shocked you more had it not been so honeyed. Holding the recognisable smoothness that you only associated with Loki.

“ this is the first time I’ve ever been late, thank you very much. “ you answer with an unwavering nerve as you stare at him while amusement floods your expression.

“ and the last, I’m sure? “ an eyebrow raises as he questions you, a warmth brightening his aura against the coolness he exudes normally.

Believing he’s not of Earth had been hard for you to grip, to believe fully, no matter how many tricks he could conjure before your very eyes. Though disappearing right before you, then feeling the whisper of his breath dance on the back of your neck so gracefully had been the confirmation you required. From there on a friendship blossomed into something more, you both becoming more and more involved with the other. Holding such unbelievable secrets were not a common place for you, to have this continues to make you feel like such a special soul.

“ oh, shut up! “

You stroll towards him, closing the distance with an enthusiastic energy that not even the longest of days could wear you down. Nothing in the world makes you feel so secure and guarded than when you finally feel the weight of his arms snake around you to bring you forward into his embrace. For Loki, you are a home away from home. Never do you gaze upon him with untrustful eyes, nor do you view him as beneath you, many negative connotations are attached to his name and you? You simply see him for who he wishes he could be, only ever in your presence does he try not to disappoint you. Back on Asgard that’s all anyone ever expects, so why not play into their prejudices? It has protected him so far, though the thought that perhaps even that has done more harm than good tresspasses into his mind on a rare occasion.

It’s not something he wishes to think about there though. He wants to dedicate his short visit to you entirely. Pushing away the increasingly regular thought it’s just a heartbeat, he is not one to be naive to pretend. Illusions are second nature to him, to forge them as easily to breathe, but to experience them are something that is in his power to prevent. He could allow this one instance to be selfish.

“ might I inquire of your wellbeing since we parted last? “ he requests as fingers entwine with yours to guide you to the slight hollow space within the tree. You drop yourself without any elegance to the ground, he settles behind you with his legs on either side of yours.

You can’t help but marvel at the differences between the two of you, like night and day. However, your differences fit like a puzzle with no inconvenience.

“ life keeps trying to test my patience, same as ever but ⎯ “ you pause, your eyes shining with remembrance of the gift you had brought, of course you knew it’s nothing more than a silly little trinket but you couldn’t help but fall in love with it. “ here, my friend’s been making these pieces for their business and I couldn’t help but think of you. “

Adoration is the only thing that overwhelms him in this moment, it’s a feeling he wants to lock away to relive over and over, for the only time he has never been treated as an afterthought is by his mother. Now? It’s a feeling that hasn’t been forged by a bond born of blood, but one that has arisen naturally. The item in your hand is a small metal band, with designs etched onto its body.

“ it’s only a little thing I know ⎯ “ you begin to babble, the words tumbling before you could even stop them. Your mind losing all control over your language before Loki put a stop to it.

“ I’ll have you know it’s not the physical item itself, but the sentiment behind it I hold dear. “

You want to respond with equally sweet words, but the heavy tone doesn’t go undiscovered by your ears.

“ Loki, what’s wrong? “

“ nothing, why do you ask? “ the God denies, switching the questioning to you.

Turning to face him, your eyes scout all over his features to spot anything that would give you cause to continue on with your concern. It’s light, the ghost of sorrow concealed behind a curtain of confidence and ego, even the most professional of liars can’t hide the truth of that. The hurt cuts too deep for a flimsy pretense of everything being perfect for it to bury those feelings.

“ you’re an amazing liar, but I’m beginning to get the hang of you. Besides, sadness is something difficult to completely hide. “

A heavy breath is released, your fingers from their position on his shoulders feel as if there’s an invisible weight that has almost decreased. You wonder how long he has carried this with him.

“ tell me. “

Every fibre of Loki’s being is fighting to keep his feelings kept away out of sight, to imagine they never manifested themselves into reality, but locked into place by the profound compassion swirling in your eyes he wants to finally divulge everything in his mind that has been plaguing him. Who knew a mortal could have such an enchanting effect he thought humourfully to himself.

“ the deadline for a successor to my father’s throne is approaching. “

“ and you’re worried? “ your brows lower, confusion marking your features as you struggle to understand why that could be so bad?

“ I've veiled many things from you, a fault of mine I understand completely. “ he admits, a sorrowful smile gracing his lips.

“ it’s never too late to share them. It might help you feel better? “

Loki wonders just what it is he has done in his history to be blessed with such an understanding and caring soul as yours, nothing could ease the lasting effects of each and every of his transgressions over his many years of living. How exactly could such radiance and light find the dark Prince of Asgard so easily? Many who lived in his realm would argue that he’s not deserving, instead countering that his brother should be in such a position of happiness.

He simply gazes upon you before speaking, a slender finger raising to tuck a few stray hairs behind your ear.

“ the successor has already been chosen, they always have been. This is a mere formality. “ switching his sight from you to the environment around you both, turning to look upon the steadily darkening sky.

“ so why do it then? “

“ to ensure that the process is seen as fair, despite the favour repeatedly falling to my brother. “

Nodding in understanding, you finally realise why there is a darkness that swirls over his head now he speaks of the topic. Living in the shadow of the golden child is not easy, your heart hurts as you realise that there must be many people who do not see the same man who you see. They see audacity instead of a daringness, to mistake him for an egotistical know it all instead of someone who has a thirst for knowledge and tricks.

“ never did they wish to stop viewing me as a troublesome child, I suppose I never aided in changing that. “

Nothing falls from your lips, knowing no words could do justice for what you need him to know, to feel. Twisting yourself onto your knees, you lean forward and allow your arms to provide him comfort as they surround his neck. One hand raises to rest in the dense raven locks of hair you constantly marvel over, moving ever so softly to trace patterns.

“ I’m sorry. “ you mumble softly, wanting to say more, but you can’t help but resign yourself to being unable to say anything meaningful. Instead, figuring it would be better, first, for him to speak his emotions without looking for any advice.

“ you’ve nothing to apologise for. The pieces will fall as they should. “ he comforts, whining to himself over the absence of your warmth as you withdraw the embrace.

“ Loki, what do you mean by that? “

“ nothing for you to worry yourself over, my dove. “ he shakes his head, as a chuckle that is short accompanies it, contains little genuine amusement to settle you.

“ I’m being serious, what are you talking about? “ your demand is light in touch, though your gaze holds an unrelenting strength as he looks towards you once more.

“ again, nothing that requires your concern. Midgardians, you worry too much. “

“ over things that can get the people we love into trouble, of course. “

His heart pauses in beating as the words seep into his mind, realising exactly what you spoke. Briefly, does he wonder if he misheard you, thought deep down he knows what you spoke.

“ did you ⎯ ? “ an unrecognisable vulnerability crosses his expression as he begins to ask what you had said, to hear it again as if for the first time.

A reddening of you cheeks can be seen, you look down with a sheepish grin. This had not been the way you had imagined using the love word. Of course, over the years of your life many things had not gone to plan, so this was just another instance in a long, long line of events that just got away from you. While you know there is something mutual, you can’t bring yourself to look upon him just yet.

“ you heard me correctly. “

Elation swells within him, even the thought of perhaps you would prefer Thor had you met him first could not creep more than a few feet before being banished from sight and mind, it’s not something he wants to entertain. Especially for what he has in mind to plan for the future. Instead, he allows himself to be engulfed in your love, to experience the last piece of goodness that has been reserved for him, knowing it won’t last.

All you feel from your dropped gaze is your nose being nudged by his, then the weight of his lips on your own. Moving together as if they are fighting to mould into one, fitting together so well. Both of you are left breathless, momentarily caught in the feeling of the other that oxygen is the last thing on your mind.

�� do not trouble yourself over events that have not come to pass yet. Especially on an evening as fine as this. “

The corner of your lips tilt higher as your turn away from him to peer over the surroundings you had briefly forgotten. The burnt colours had long since faded into darkness, the stars being the only light as they can only be likened to being glitter in the night’s sky. A true beauty.

“ I love nights like these, where you can see all of the stars. “

“ you’d be besotted with Asgard’s constellations. “

You’d settled back into the position you were in previously, with arms encompassing you protectively with your back secured firmly to his chest. Loki explains the beauty of Asgard, and how even in the day the stars can still be seen against the shining vividness of the colours of their sky. Quarrelling against the gold hues from both the sun and the palace he knows only as his home.

“ that sounds wonderful. “ you whisper, feeling fatigue sneaking its way to the forefront of your mind.

“ it truly is a beauty to see. “ agreeing with you, resting his head upon yours. Wishing nothing more than to be able to stay there in that moment forever.

“ I wish I could see it. I’m very jealous right now. “

He can feel you becoming increasingly drowsy, flattered that you would even let your guard enough to even allow sleep to touch you. Having you on Asgard would certainly make him a happier person, to have someone who isn’t his mother understand him would be freeing. Though his father would die before he allowed that to happen, a mortal on Asgard.

“ Perhaps one day. “

Loki can’t be sure if you even heard that, but it’s something he wants to entertain. Besides, what is the use of being a master of mischief and tricks if he couldn’t make such a desire come true?

#loki x reader #loki imagine #loki layfeyson x reader #loki layfeyson imagine #loki fluff

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just-jordie-things · 4 years

Note

hey ummm... could u maybe do 59 w Zuko 🥺?? i <3 ur writing by the way!!!

prompt 59: kissing so desperately their body caves into the other person’s ___

“He’s a fool!”

“He’s learning”

“Well he’s terrible at it!”

There was a pause as Iroh debated on what to say to you now, but as he tilted his head to the side, regarding you with an awkward look on his face, he nodded.

“...yes…” He agreed slowly.

You let out a growl of frustration, before furiously kicking at the ground, sending a chunk of dirt and grass flying into the air. You looked like a child learning earthbending, if that child was an amateur, and if you had been born an earthbender.

“I can’t believe him!” You shouted, and began pacing in circles again.

Iroh sighs as you repeat the same actions and words that you had been for the past fifteen minutes now. Normally you weren’t so hotheaded, but no one brought this frustration out of you like Prince Zuko.

“Spirits I could just-! I could-! I could kill him if he wasn’t already dying!”

Your voice cracked as you threw your hands around, and finally, Iroh sees that you’re beginning to break. You’d been so angry, it was only a matter of time before what you were truly upset about shone through.

“Lady (y/n), why don’t we go inside? I’ll make you some tea” Iroh suggests, calm and collected as ever.

Sometimes, you didn’t know how he did it.

Zuko was a challenge, that had never been a secret. In all the time that you’d known him- which was literally your entire life- he had always been hot or cold.

Some days he was kind and charismatic, and honestly fun. You fell in love with him all over again on these days. In one of the villages you’d travelled through, there had been a festival, and he’d danced with you in the streets like he hadn’t a care in the world.

Other days, he was stoic, and cruel. He could have his guard up so high that he might not even look at you. You almost hated him on these days. When he would let his own greed and desire cloud his judgments, and his personality. He once went an entire day without speaking or looking at you.

You had challenged him to an Agni Kai, although you weren’t a firebender, just to get a reaction out of him.

This had not been amusing to him, however. He’d called you silly and immature for challenging someone of his status and power to a duel.

After that, you went three days without speaking to him. It had tortured him more than fighting you could have, and once you finally gave in and let him apologize, he swore to never treat you that way again.

Things were different now, though.

You weren’t on a Fire Nation ship anymore, and your travels to capture the Avatar had been put on hold, or so you’d assumed. Since coming to Ba Sing Se, Iroh had opened a tea shop that was doing spectacularly, and you and the man had happily rebuilt your new lives.

You couldn’t help but feel that the way you lived in the Earth Kingdom was how you were always meant to be. You were more happy living in the lower rings of Ba Sing Se than you ever had been living as a young noble in the Fire Nation.

Zuko did not share the same sentiment.

Nonetheless, you persuaded him into joining you on walks about the city, or trips to the market for groceries. He seemed to enjoy that a little more than working as a waiter in his Uncle’s shop.

And then, you’d convinced him to free the Avatar’s sky bison! You weren’t sure how you’d done it, you’d merely mentioned that Aang and the others might leave Ba Sing Se before they catch the three of you if they had the means to travel- that being Appa.

Last night, when he’d returned to the small apartment, his mask in hand and a torn look on his face, you weren’t sure if he’d gone through with it. He looked so distraught that you thought he’d given up.

But he told you and his Uncle that he had freed the animal, and you could have kissed him, you were so happy for him.

You could see him changing before you, for the better, and it made your heart swell with love and admiration. A hope filled you, that maybe Ba Sing Se would be where all of you could be your happiest.

That didn’t last.

This morning he’d woken up with the flu. He was sweating, shaking, he’d even thrown up once or twice. He was burning up inside and cold to the touch, and you’d worried to no end over his well being.

You weren’t afraid of some little sickness, Zuko was strong and could get past anything, but you quickly learned of how he’d come to be so ill, and any sense of concern flew out the window.

You left his side, tore your hands out of his, and stormed out of the apartment.

Now here you were, pacing around outside with Iroh trying to calm you down.

“I mean- who gets sick because of moral conflict?” You asked, stressfully running your hands through your hair.

You’d been wearing your hair down instead of in it’s usual Fire Nation style top knot, and you often found yourself repeating this anxious action. Especially when it came to Zuko.

“He’s different, Lady (y/n), you know this,” Iroh reminds you, folding his hands together. “But you know you can talk to him about this-”

“I know,” You grumble, and suddenly drop to the ground, sitting down and hanging your head in your hands. “I just- I just can’t believe that his intentions are so corrupt that he can’t do one simple good thing without his body shutting down on him. I hate him”

“No, you don’t,” Iroh says calmly. “You care too much, I’d say”

You look up at him, your eyes glossing over with tears, and your lip beginning to quiver.

Iroh smiles at you sadly, and as he walks past you, he kindly pats your head.

“I’ll give you some time to yourself,” He says. “You come in when you’re ready for that tea”

You nod back at him, and push your head into your hands while you try to stop your tears.

I should be angry, you tell yourself. Not crying, like a baby.

I can’t believe him. He’s so insufferable and he could be so cruel, and here I thought he’d changed for the better. How can he change if he gets a little cold every time he does one good thing?

Your tears keep flowing, whether they’re ones of heartbreak or irritation, you can’t tell, but it doesn’t matter because they don’t stop.

“(y/n)?” A familiar raspy voice calls, and you wished you had the energy to whirl around and punch him right in his perfect face.

You settle for giving him the middle finger over your shoulder.

Oh, if you had done that a year ago, you’d risk a death sentence.

“Uncle says you’re upset-”

“What gave him that idea?” You asked bitterly, and turned to look at him with a scowl.

He didn’t falter at the mean look, but he did weaken at the sight of you in tears. And despite your protests, he sat next to you.

Zuko still looked like a mess. He was pale, and his skin was glistening with sweat, but he still had a blanket wrapped around himself to keep away the chills. That didn’t stop him from shivering every few minutes.

“Zuko, I really don’t want to talk to you right now-”

“Fine, then don’t” He replied, ever so blunt.

You groaned, and realized you’d have to leave if you wanted privacy. So you moved to stand and go inside, but he stopped you, grabbing your hand, and pulling you back down next to him with ease.

Even when he was weak he was strong, you thought, and you scoffed.

“But I still need to talk to you” He told you.

“I don’t want that either” You bit back.

“What did I do to you?” He asked, genuinely confused. “Just last night we were fine, you- you were happy, you hugged me! I thought I did the right thing…?”

You stared at him blankly, before shaking your head at him.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” You mumbled, mostly to yourself. “Zuko, you’re a wreck,”

He didn’t need you to tell him that, but it still hurt a little from how venomous your words were.

“I mean, seriously, I have never seen you look shittier. And do you get why, Zuko?”

You didn’t give him time to try to answer.

“It’s because you’re so mentally conflicted on whether or not to be a good person, that it’s making you physically sick”

You shake your head and turn away from him so you can roughly wipe the tears off of your face. You hate that you’re crying in front of him, but at the same time, you don’t care anymore. You’re just so tired of all of this.

“And here I thought,” You mumbled, your voice weak and cracking from the tears in your throat. “Like an idiot, that we could actually be happy here. How can we be happy if you’re throwing up over it? Spirits, I can’t believe I’m still so naive”

“I’m sorry” Zuko mumbles, hanging his head.

Unknowingly, the conflict he’s facing only gets worse, because now he’s hurt you in the process, and it pains him to think he’s done something so awful that it’s brought you to tears.

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” You cried, “I want you to want to be a good person, and you are, I know you are, I’ve seen it, you just- spirits you just make it so hard to love you sometimes,”

At that, Zuko perks back up, turning to look at you with wild swiftness, even though you’re sobbing and hanging your head in your hands. You probably haven’t even realized what you’d said in your state of despair.

“And I don’t know what to do!” You cried out, looking up at him. “I don’t know how to help you- if I can help you- and I just- mmph!”

Before you could continue on ranting at him, he’d leaned forward and kissed you, his clammy hands flying to your face to bring your lips to his roughly, like he couldn’t have possibly waited another second.

And as angry as you still were at him, you threw your arms around his neck, fervently kissing him back.

You were still crying, your salty tears slipping between our mouths, but neither of you cared. In that moment, all you cared about was being as close to him as physically possible.

His wool blanket fell off his shoulders and suddenly you were pressed into his almost uncomfortably hot and sweaty chest, and yet, you couldn’t have cared less.

He was here, he was finally kissing you after years of anticipation for someone to make the first move.

You were all but in his lap when you finally parted, panting, your wide eyes meeting his with shock.

“I do want to be better,” He says, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face as he whispers to you. “And I do want us to be happy here”

“You do?” You ask, hopefully, your own hands reaching out to cup around his face.

Zuko nods, smiling faintly at you.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n),” He apologizes, bringing his forehead down to yours. “Please forgive me”

“I forgive you” You hum back.

“For the past three years,” He clarifies. “For dragging you around the world and wasting what was supposed to be the prime of your life”

You chuckle, your thumb stroking around the edge of his scar, your eyes lovingly following the movement.

“I think that I followed you” You reminded him.

You were right of course, you had somewhat snuck onto the ship before his departure.

His lips quirked into a wider smile at the memory.

“Right, of course,” He murmurs. “How could I forget?”

“You were a busy man, Prince Zuko,” You hum teasingly. “Now come on, we should go inside and make you some tea before you get me sick, too”

You stand, taking his blanket before helping him up, and carefully wrapping the blanket around his shoulders like a cape.

“I love you too” He breathes out, and you pause for a moment, processing his words, before looking up at him with a brilliant smile.

You adjust the blanket, before standing on the tips of your toes to press a light kiss to his cheek.

Wordlessly, you take his hand and bring him with you inside. Your frustrations effectively melted away, replaced with a feeling of content and ease.

For the first time in a long time, you truly felt everything was okay. Even though nothing was alright in the world, you’d be just fine.

___

xoxo ~ jordie

#atla #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #zuko scenario

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slasherscream · 4 years

Note

You don't have to if you feel uncomfortable but may I have a request where JD, Hannibal, Billy and Candyman react when they found out the woman they love who always cares and smiles for others, just a ball of sunshine coming from a dysfunctional broken home. Even when they find her with a black eye due to an argument, she still smiles and ensures she's fine

Jason Dean

JD never saw it coming. He figured you came from some perfect, little suburban dream family. A loving Mother, a doting Father he didn’t know what else could produce someone like you but a stable home life.

He had a childhood that was less than ideal, putting it lightly, and you two shared almost nothing in common. Where he was pessimistic you were looking on the bright side. When he pointed out the nastiness in others you’d somehow find a way to make him see the good in the people around you two as well.

Though sometimes he thought you were a little naive it endeared him to you more than you could know. No matter what he did you’d come back swinging with that positive, happy-go-lucky outlook and it was beginning to rub off on him, just a little.

He smiled more when you were around. Everything felt more worthwhile. That was, of course, when the illusion went tumbling down.

He crawled through your window ready to see you and surprise you as he’d gotten your address from one of your many friends at school.

He climbed through the window he guessed was yours only to find you curled up on your bed, clutching your pillow and trying to block out the sounds of loud fighting going on downstairs.

Multiple voices screaming back and forth, you flinching at every sound bleeding through your door. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was when he made a noise finishing coming through and you turned to look at him, startled.

Your eye was swollen and already beginning to discolor but immediately upon seeing the expression on his face (rage and heartbreak mixing together) you raced to him trying to reassure him you were fine.

He asked who touched you but you just kept reassuring him that everything was fine. You hugged him close and tried to soothe his nerves, all the while, the fighting downstairs got louder.

You can say it’s fine all you want but JD will never forget and he’ll get his answer eventually. He’ll punish your family for hurting you all these years when there was no one around to protect you. You were everything that was good about the world, and if he had to burn it to ash to see you safe and happy the way you deserved to be? He’d do it in a heartbeat.

Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal is probably the closest to seeing something off right from the start of things.

It’s not that you aren’t convincing, or even that you’re faking your joy and general love for the world around you. He hates people that aren’t genuine and he can sniff them out easily.

It’s just that sometimes there is a sadness to you that he is always trying to trace back to something. You are a puzzle that he is trying to solve and somewhere along the line he falls in love with you.

He notices how you dance around the topic of family, keeping your comments vague and going a bit quiet whenever he brings up wanting to meet the people who’d raised such a wonderful, young woman.

For some reason his mind does not jump straight to abuse. There are plenty of strained parental relationships that are not out right abusive and outside of those tiny moments where you seem to break a little at the seams you’re so bright.

Love is blind, he’d thought the expression only true for others, he hadn’t ever imagined himself being in love in the first place. He couldn’t have imagined his own assumptions towards you blinding him to the obvious.

When you show up to a lunch date with him wearing sunglasses he tries to spend the meal ignoring them but finally asks, for the sake of manners, for you to remove them as you are at the table. He’d never known you to be rude.

Slowly you take them off and the world goes still. Your face is pointed downwards towards the table but it doesn’t stop him from being able to see your eye. He rushes from his side of the table to cup your face and everything clinks into place immediately.

“Who did this to you, dearest?” his voice is devoid of judgement, calm the way he is during his sessions. But inside he’s engulfed with rage.

“My (family member) didn’t mean to. Our fights just get so bad and I’m always making them so angry-” He pushes your head into his chest, stopping your onslaught of excuses for a person who wouldn’t be in the land of the living very much longer. There was no need for you to think of them anymore.

Billy Loomis

What draws him to you is how good you are. At first it annoys him because he thinks you’re faking it. No one could possibly be as sweet and kind as you’re pretending to be.

He can stand few things less than he can stand a fake and at first, frankly, his interest in you is finding out everything he can about you so he can kill you and mentally torture you while he does it.

It’s while he’s learning everything he can about you and stalking you that he starts to fall in love with you, little by little. Stu keeps asking him when they’re going to off you and he keeps answering ‘not yet’ every time. Eventually Stu stops asking and starts to focus on the next victim.

Billy doesn’t lose focus. He can’t think of anything but you. He starts stalking you more and more, the need to see you and hear you only worsening by the minute.

Eventually he gets sloppy and slips up and you see him. You’re walking alone at night for some reason in a town with an active serial killer but you look like there’s no other place you’d rather be. He wonders why you don’t go home but just barely, he’s grateful you’re usually so easy to keep track of.

When you spot him you recognize him from school and call out to him. He’s got no choice but to approach you casually, pretending he’s also out for a late night walk. “We should walk together to be safe!” Before he knows it you’re looping your arm through his and walking together.

You stay out nearly the whole night together and he asks you out the very next day. It’s not long before he’s calling you his girlfriend and stalking you less. You spend so much time with him he’s actually pretty secure in the relationship and what you mean to each other. Sometimes he’ll do it just to check up on you but it becomes a rarity.

One night he follows you home, just to make sure you get there without incident, and he starts hearing strange loud noises from inside the house. He sneaks into your bedroom window just to make sure you’re okay. You run in crying right as he’s making his way to the door, clutching the side of your face protectively.

He’s on you in a second, locking the door and prying your hands away. You don’t have time to ask him what he’s doing there before he sees the early signs of your eye bruising and falls into shell-shocked silence.

With more gentleness than you knew he was capable of he kissed your head, got out a bag, and began to pack away some of your things. You watch him quietly, trying to convince him it’s okay but he silences you with one intense look that he disappears quickly, replaced by the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?” He crosses the room, cupping your face gently, thumb grazing the skin beneath your bruised eye.

Once he’s done packing he guides you carefully out the window and into his car. He’s going to take you to Stu’s where he intends to share their big secret. Then he and Stu are going to make a night out of killing your family.

Candyman

He is a spirit, roaming and untethered, when he sees you and is first struck dumb by your beauty. He never thought he’d love again but the minute he sets eyes on you he knows he can grow to love you. That he could cherish you for the rest of your natural life and beyond.

He wants you. Needs you. He begins to visit you in dreams. Never nightmares. In your dreams he is a princely figure that loves you already, that has loved you more than anyone in your entire life.

You’ve never slept better than in the months where he woos you, and makes you fall in love with him, this phantom created by your own mind.

Part of you thinks you’re going crazy. How could you be falling in love with a man that isn’t real? But you’re a romantic and can’t deny the pull you feel within yourself. They may be only dreams but they make you happy. Daniel, makes you happy.

You don’t have to wonder for long if you’re losing your mind because he whispers to you in a dream that he can be real. Real as flesh and blood if you say a name three times in a mirror. Candyman.

You wake up the next morning feeling silly but can’t help doing it. Part of you desperately hoping that your escape from your real life could become your real life, if there was really some magic in the world.

It works of course and the minute you feel his arms around you, you start to cry tears of joy. But you’d forgotten about the fight you had with your family the night before. In your dreams you are always perfect and beautiful, your skin unmarred by the abuse you endure every day. But now, away from your dreams, Robert can see that someone has dared to harm you. His love. His darling.

He doesn’t need you to tell him who’s done this. One look at you and he seems to know. He knows you better than anyone else.

His hand, the human one, the one that isn’t for killing or hurting, touches gently your damaged skin. He presses a kiss to your forehead.

He has been summoned and there’s a price of blood to be paid.

#hannibal lecter x reader #jd x reader #billy loomis x reader #candyman x reader #slasher x reader #LOVED THIS SPICY PROMPT #revenge upon your family nonny!!!#Anonymous

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finitevoid · 3 years

Text

fairytales for children with no souls, an addendum: a requiem for genevieve grimhilde. read the rest here.

grimhilde pets evie’s black hair and whispers to her. whispers to evie about auradon, about princes and kings and golden bejeweled crowns and velvet-silk-cashmere gloves that reach your elbows. and grimhilde dresses evie in soiled clothes hastily cleaned in a bathtub full of old bleach because its the best they have, and she pets her black hair and cooes when evie pulls on her best pair of cotton gloves.

evie’s favorite person in the whole world is her sister genevieve. genevieve has dyed-blue hair and brown eyes that glitter in the gray light of the island of the lost and evie wants to be just like her someday. to be as graceful, as cool and calm and collected as genevieve. she calls her sister “jenny” and her sister calls her “eve” and they whisper the nicknames like a well-kept secret.

grimhilde pets evie’s dyed blue hair and tells her things. “men don’t like to feel intimidated,” she tells her. “you must keep your intelligence close to your chest, where they cannot see it.” she brushes evie’s hair well into the night and helps her dye it blue with berries and chemicals wasted from auradon. “a man must think you are easily swayed. that you are soft, malleable. able to be molded.” and grimhilde’s eyes glint silver in the light as she whispers, “you must never let him know that he is the one being molded by you.”

men hold all the power, she is told. she must allow men to think they have power over her, when in reality, they do not. she must marry a prince and turn him into a puppet-on-a-string. she will whisper ideas into his ear with such ease he thinks they were his own. she will be the one to order trade, to begin wars, to control the populace, all by pulling a silly man’s face close to her’s and effortlessly swaying him to her ideas. all the power with none of the glory. she must marry a prince, a powerful prince. so that when he is crowned ruler, the true king, controlling the kingdom from the shadows? is evie.

jenny never talks about princes or kings or riches and power. jenny always talks to evie about fairytales. she reads storybooks to her and points at the drawings waterlogged pages. but evie never cares about the drawings, no. she listens to jenny describe the perfect world of auradon, with its rich colors and thriving wildlife. she seems to spin the image of fields and fields of flowers in the air, uses her voice to create the picture of the richest of red apples, held to perfect lips and ineffably poisoned.

jenny has never met snow white, but evie can tell that she wants to. “she’s our sister, in a sense,” she explains. “she’s a queen now... living with her prince charming in auradon.”

“have you ever been to auradon?” evie asks, because she is still young and naive and thinks that such a thing is possible.

jenny’s laugh is like bells, but her eyes are drooping with sadness. “no, eve.” she continues to smile, despite the tenseness in her shoulders. jenny smiles through it all. whenever grimhilde rages at them, screams at her own reflection, jenny would hold evie close and hum a lullaby in her ears, smiling.

she smiles at the boy next door, who had sullen brown eyes and curly salt-and-pepper hair when he comes to their tower with blood spilt all over himself. his name is diego, and jenny would smile as she tended to his wounds. would smile as she cupped his face when traitorous tears fell, and that was always when evie left to go spend time in the garden, granting them privacy.

jenny tried so hard to keep up their garden. “we’re witches,” she told evie, once, a hand-woven basket hung over her arm as she stood over the meager flower bed. “it’s customary we keep a garden.”

it was mostly weeds, but jenny would stay out in the garden until late at night, pressing her hands together in fruitless prayer and desperately trying to call upon magic she didn’t have to make flowers grow. “we are supposed to be connected to nature,” jenny whispered, once. fell on her knees beside the flower bed, wiping tears as they fell down her cheeks. “we are supposed to be one with life.”

evie did not say that their mother was hardly “one with life” when she poisoned snow white with an apple. maybe we are cursed, evie thinks. cursed by nature to never grow another flower, for our mother’s sins. she forsook life, and so it forsakes her in return.

but her theory is dashed when, one day, a single flower peeks through the sea of weeds. it is white, and fragile, its veined petals swaying in the hot, garbage-smelling breeze. “you are like this flower,” jenny told her. holding her close, her voice was hoarse with something like terror, her chapped lips pressed to evie’s temple. “beauty among garbage.”

“if that is the analogy,” evie replied, conerned by her sister’s distress. “then you are more like this flower than I.”

and jenny began to weep, sobs shaking her shoulders as she cried. evie tried to wipe her sister’s tears, but they continued to fall, cascading down her face and plonking onto the white flower’s petals.

the tears watered the flower, and after that day, it grew another bud.

“who is the fairest of them all?” grimhilde asks, and it is a question she has asked a million times before, but there is something different, now. something metal in her voice, something cold in her eyes. genevieve has graduated highschool and evie has only just started it, and they stand at attention in the dining room like soldiers, their hands held behind their backs.

“you.” genevieve says, and there is a cruelty in the way she says it, rage hanging around her shoulders, a cold undercurrent in her tone. “it will always be you.”

grimhilde takes a step toward genevieve, and grips her chin in her fingers. “remember your place, girl.” she says, all haughty pride and cool rage. “i put you into this world, and don’t you ever forget that.”

“you are the fairest.” genevieve says. “i don’t want to be the fairest.” her voice breaks on the word ‘want’.

“yes,” grimhilde murmurs. “i will be.”

evie doesn’t remember what she did that night. but she woke up to the iron smell of blood. clouds and smog covered the sky outside her window.

jenny was covered in the iron-steel-tang of hot-red-maroon blood of her own throat. her own gore covered her nightgown and the bedsheets, staining them so thoroughly it would never wash out. her throat was- was cut, torn, shredded, destroyed. her throat was a gaping open wound, still oozing gore. a dagger sat next to her sister’s face, glinting in the candlelight. her eyes stared dully at the ceiling, unseeing. her face was purely and utterly blank.

diego de vil helps bury her, next to her flower bed.

evie does not weep. she is not wracked with sobs. she is not consumed with despair like the pretty perfect doll princesses of the storybooks.

she is filled with a white hot, all-consuming, vicious rage. she shakes with the force of it. it burns beneath her skin, lighting up her core like magma, like lava, like fire, slow-moving and murderous. the rage is agony, burning, powerful agony. it fills her from the inside, fills her up, up, up, until she cannot contain its burning, and it pours out of her from every angle like vomit. but instead of snarling and shouting, she smiles. she forces her muscles to tense into that of a disarming smile, never letting it fall, never letting it falter.

evie takes the dagger used to murder her sister and sets onto the town. she asks around, finds out who grimhilde paid to do the deed, and she finds him. in a backwater house somewhere in downtown, and she sinks his own dagger into his throat as he sleeps. he awakes with a gurgle, stares up at her in horror, and then dies in his own bed. covered in his own gore, his sheets stained so red it would never wash out.

flowers bloom over jenny’s grave, and evie spits on them. how dare they only bloom after jenny died covered in her own gore. how dare they ignore her prayers, her cries, her tears, only to appear over her corpse. how dare they take suffering so violent and disgusting and turn it into something beautiful. jenny deserved for the world to be bathed in the same suffering she felt in her last moments. parasites, the damn things are, evie thinks. feeding on her corpse for nutrients. sucking up what little is left of genevieve grimhilde.

there was no peace, no beauty. only agony. hot, burning suffering. evie would make the world feel her sister’s agony one person at a time if she had to. she would make herself feel the agony of her sister’s suffering. she would suffer, in her honor. in her memory.

(it was the least evie deserved.)

evie smears snow white’s storybook in red. she covers it in the red stain until evie can taste the iron and she sinks the dagger into the pages again, and again, and again. she slashes and rips and tears until nothing is left but puply, bloodstained scraps of paper. she dumps the mangled storybook over the flowers, and prays to any god that deigns to listen that it kills them.

it does not. the flowers flourish, the only garden on the isle. they grow high above the gore, absorb the paper and iron-steel-tang-hot-red-maroon blood into their veins and grow higher, and higher. they tower over evie’s reach, dancing in the breeze and reaching toward the sky. reaching for escape, in auradon. evie spits on them.

“who is the fairest of them all?” grimhilde asks, gray sunlight filtering in through the windows.

evie forces her face muscles to tense into that of a smile, hands clutched dutifully in front of her. “you, mother.” she tugs the smile a little wider, a little happier. “always you.”

grimhilde fixes evie with an appraising expression, until her wrinkled, aging face curls into a cruel smile. her face, stained permanently from bleach being smeared on it, stretches and tugs into a wicked smirk. “you hate me, darling.” grimhilde chuckles. “and you should. your smile is perfect.”

she pets evie’s dyed-blue hair as she passes, dress swishing around her ankles, her other arm flourishing. “nobody will be any the wiser, if you use that smile. you make a perfect grimhilde, indeed.” she whispers.

#death //#emotional abuse //#blood //#violence //#in general this one is. fucking heavy.#my writing*#fairytales for children with no souls #descendants #ive always thought about how like. grimhilde tried to kill a child of hers before she had evie. and what that must be like to live with #truthfully jenny has existed in this au for a bit over a year now but i thought it was finally time to write something for her #shes essentially an oc azsxdcfvg but ive just. become so attached to her #but yah her impact on this aus evie is. immense.#this one does not have a hopeful ending like the other ones. obviously evie grows and changes and learns to love herself and the world #but that is a long time coming

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hotpinkhoshi · 4 years

Text

kiss it better | four

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, smut, brother’s best friend au (sort of)

warnings: age gap (nine years), cursing, explicit sex, slow burn

word count: 4k

summary: you were off limits for more reasons than mark could count. but everything changed for him the day you walked into his tattoo shop with those big innocent eyes and a laugh like his favorite song. he couldn’t. he wouldn’t. and yet…

a/n: hellloooooo my loves! thanks for your patience with this update! please let me know what you think about the update :)

✩ index here ✩

The last time you went bowling, you were eight years old.

It was your birthday, and you’d declared that the one thing you’d wanted was for the whole family to spend the day together. Lately, Taehyung had been focused on graduating and you’d barely seen him around the house. Your dad was always working, and your mom offered little to no comfort.

So it had been your birthday wish to have just one day that you could be a family.

For the first time in your life, you’d had a perfect day. Even Taehyung had put his responsibilities aside and come along, which had been the best part.

You didn’t win, of course. You had little to no hand-eye coordination - but you’d had more fun than you could ever remember having with your family. The one time you bowled a strike, Taehyung grabbed you and put you on his shoulders, doing laps up and down the lane while you giggled until your cheeks hurt.

When you entered the bowling alley, you tried not to remember that day. It would only bring you sadness and make you long for something you could never have again.

Instead, you honed in on a different feeling in your bones. You were meeting Mark’s friends for the first time, and it had been a long time since you’d been in such a large group. You couldn’t help but feel nervous. It made you want to steal the leather jacket Mark was wearing and let yourself be swallowed up by the heavy material.

College had been a learning experience, to say the least, and one of the most prominent lessons had been that it was easy to lose yourself in situations like these. When drinks were flowing, music was blasting, and people were laughing - you didn’t have a great track record.

Nonetheless, you let Mark lead you back to his friends after grabbing the right shoes, anxiously shoving your hands into the pockets of your shorts.

“Look who showed up!” Dahyun exclaimed once you joined their group, standing up from the cushioned seats in front of the alley.

She brushed right past Mark to embrace you in a tight hug, squeezing your shoulders and briefly rocking you back and forth.

“Damn, hello to you too,” Mark murmured. He shook his head and greeted the rest of his friends, exchanging one of those dude handshakes with a tall, lean guy with shaggy black hair.

When Dahyun let you go, she linked her arm through yours and brought you over to the group. “Everybody, this is Y/N.”

“Hi,” you responded with a shy wave.

The tall guy reached out his hand. “Hi, I’m Yugyeom.”

He had a face that made you feel like you could trust him, a smile that seemed more innocent than anything else. You couldn’t help but to return his smile and grasp his hand.

“Hi,” you said again, before Dahyun was pointing to the next person.

“This is Jackson,” she said, gesturing to a guy leaning coolly against the booth, chestnut brown hair swooped away from his face to reveal his sparkling smile.

You recognized him as the male you’d seen on that first day, the one that asked Dahyun for napkins. He was wearing a muscle shirt again, revealing the sleeves of swirling lines on both of his toned arms.

After shaking his hand, Dahyun led you to the next person. Instead of pointing at her, Dahyun wrapped her arms around the short haired blonde and slapped a kiss on her cheek.

“This is my other half, my bae, my lady. Or, you may call her Chaeyoung.”

Chaeyoung crinkled her nose and wriggled out of her girlfriend’s grasp with a giggle, reaching forward to shake your hand. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

Although they were all older than you, you didn’t quite feel the age gap as you thought you would. Yugyeom had a young soul and you felt comfortable as he helped you choose a bowling ball with the right weight.

Jackson was friendly, too, claiming you for his team before anyone else could get the chance. He said he got a good feeling from you, that you’d be his lucky charm. All you could do was blush and send Mark a shrug.

While Mark typed in everybody’s name into the machine, transferring them up onto the screen above your heads to show the scores, you accepted the cider that Dahyun slipped into your hands. If anything, perhaps it would loosen you up.

-- -- --

“If looks could kill,” Dahyun said as she slid into the booth next to Mark.

Mark brought his beer bottle to his lips, sending a side glance to his friend. “Huh?”

Dahyun just laughed, tipping her own beer back as she followed Mark’s line of sight. There was Jackson, dancing with you to the techno song playing over the speakers. You were laughing so hard your cheeks were pink.

“If looks could kill, Jackson would be six feet under,” she finished, nudging his shoulder. “You got a thing for Y/N?”

Mark scoffed, a bit too quick, and shook his head. “No. No, she’s my friend’s sister.”

Dahyun snorted. “Okay, and? Chaeyoung was my coworker. Are we just stating facts?”

She didn’t get it. Mark didn’t blame her - she didn’t know the full story. When he was younger, your parents and Tae were the closest things he’d had to family. It would have been downright betrayal to look at you as anything more than a friend.

But he couldn’t help staring, narrowing his eyes as he watched Jackson adjust your shoulders and hips before you bowled your first shot. He was sure that whatever he was feeling, it wasn’t jealousy. Something curled in his gut, though, when he watched Jackson’s fingers brush against the flower on your shoulder blade, the tattoo Mark had given you himself.

And for fuck’s sake, did you have to be wearing shorts? It was hot outside, sure, but…

He shook the thoughts out of his head, realizing that he was the one staring at your legs, not Jackson. Dahyun must have noticed as well, because she nudged him once again and giggled.

“You’re screwed, dude.”

I’m aware, Mark wanted to say. Instead, he knocked back the rest of his beer. He couldn’t bring himself to look away from you, half out of protectiveness, the other half was something else entirely, something he couldn’t identify.

-- -- --

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, watching as your bright pink bowling ball knocked down six pins. It was the most you’d gotten in one turn in the whole duration of the game. You were really bad at this, somehow even worse than you had been when you were eight.

“You did it!” Jackson yelled happily, pulling you into his arms and lifting you off your feet. You’d had a couple of ciders already, making you feel light and happy as the older man spun you around.

Jackson was cute. More than just cute - he was handsome enough to be a Disney prince. And he was funny, too. You could tell he was kind. He made you feel special when he laughed at your little quirks during the game, but you knew it was dangerous.

It wouldn’t be the first time you fell for a hot guy with a charming smile and kind eyes, and you’d told yourself you never would again. So even though he made you laugh and you liked the way he placed his hand on the small of your back, you were cautious.

Mark was quiet. When it wasn’t his turn, he was mostly brooding in the corner nursing a beer or chatting quietly with Dahyun. You wondered why he wasn’t talking to you, or even looking at you.

For a moment, you wondered if he was angry with you. He hadn’t spoken to you much, not that he was a man of many words, but you had been getting along so well lately. And he’d wanted you to come, right?

It occurred to you that maybe he hadn’t, really, and he’d just invited you to be polite. The thought made an unpleasant feeling coil in your gut.

“Last turn, you know what that means!”

A female voice called from behind you and you turned to see Chaeyoung carrying a tray of shots - at least a dozen, probably more - to your table. Your eyes widened. This wasn’t for one person, was it?!

“Yes!” Dahyun pumped her fist into the air and skipped over to her girlfriend, helping her set the tray down on the table.

“Shit, we’re still doing that?” Mark asked, his voice full of annoyance.

The girls ignored him and Dahyun turned to you. “The rule is, on your last turn, however many pins you leave standing - you take that many shots. It’s a tradition.”

You blinked a few times, staring down at the tiny shot glasses which were full of a caramelly brown liquid - probably whiskey or bourbon. Not that you had experience with either, but your old roommates always had half empty bottles laying around.

“You don’t have to,” Mark said low in your ear. You jumped, not knowing he was next to you. When you turned to him, he was giving you a dark look, like he was trying to tell you not to do it.

Suddenly, you were reminded of your brother. Taehyung was still texting you every day, telling you to go home to your parents, to grow up. He meant well, deep down, but you hated the way he thought he had a right to give you orders.

Instead of giving in, being the obedient naive girl your brother wanted you to be, you turned from Mark to Dahyun.

“Oh, no. I’m definitely doing it.”

-- -- --

“Ohhh, look at your grumpy face. You look like an old man,” you said, poking your fingertip into Mark’s cheek. “Silly.”

He should have stopped you. Mark had watched as you took five shots, one after the other. In all honesty, you’d knocked them back like a champ with hardly a grimace. But it was a quick downward spiral from there.

After tearing you away from Chaeyoung and Dahyun, who you were claiming to be your new sisters, Mark led you out of the bowling alley. With your arm around his neck and his arm stabilizing your waist, he felt like he was dragging a dead body with how helpful you were being.

Now that you were in the backseat of the Uber, you seemed to be gaining a second wind. You were leaning towards him, batting your eyelashes at him with the most infuriating, adorable smile he’d ever seen.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, grin dropping into a pout.

Mark sighed. He was used to being the one to take care of his drunk friends - Jackson wasn’t always as good at holding his liquor as he was now. Not to mention all the trouble he and Taehyung used to get into in their teen years.

“I’m not mad.”

You blinked a few times, scrutinizing his features. “It feels like you’re mad.”

“I’m not,” he insisted, licking his lips. “I just feel like I should have been more responsible.”

You furrowed your brow and huffed, deflating back against the seat. “I’m not your responsibility, Mark. You don’t have to take care of me.”

“Yes, I do,” Mark replied. “Someone has to.”

It appeared you didn’t like his answer. You crossed your arms over your chest, tearing your eyes away from him to stare out the window.

“I’m not a kid,” you said, almost a mutter under your breath, but Mark heard you. He chewed at his lip, staring at you for a moment before he exhaled.

“I know,” Mark admitted, voice low. “I know. Look, I’m sorry, I know you’re an adult. I just…”

How could he put it into words? Something about you made him want to protect you, and it wasn’t just that you were younger, that you’d been so sheltered growing up and deserved to have someone shield you from the scary world. There was something else pulling him, and he couldn’t put his finger on it just yet.

“We’re friends, Y/N. So I wanna make sure you’re safe, okay? And I should have been looking out for you tonight, and I feel like I wasn’t,” he said.

Mark had been so broody, sitting beside himself while he watched you drink cider after cider that was handed to you, his eyes following every move you made. Until, of course, you looked at him, and he made sure to appear as uninterested as possible.

He watched you swallow and consider his words before you turned back to him. Thick silence hung between the two of you and he wasn’t sure if it was because he’d said you were friends or because he’d admitted that he had been a dick.

“I wanna live,” you said, and Mark almost thought you were sobering up, but your eyes still appeared glassy and unfocused. “I moved here to live. And… and I felt like I could, tonight, because you were there.”

Mark ignored the way he felt his heart pound in his chest, hard against his ribs.

Luckily, he didn’t need to form a response because the driver had pulled up to the apartment building. Mark thanked him and helped you out of the car, noticing the way you shivered once the cool night air hit your bare skin.

“Here,” Mark said, shrugging his leather jacket off of his shoulders and draping it over yours. “You have goosebumps.”

“Thank you,” you said. Your cheeks turned pink, radiating all the way up to your ears.

With a steadying breath, Mark led you back into the building, his hand placed on the small of your back the whole way.

Once you finally made it into the apartment, you’d seemed to regain some of your wits. Though you stumbled once or twice on thin air, your intoxication at least seemed to be at a steady level.

With Milo on his heels, Mark grabbed a bottle of water for you, handing it to you with strict instructions to sip it slowly, but to finish the whole thing before you went to bed. You pouted and saluted him sarcastically before giving Milo a goodnight kiss and heading off to your room.

Mark watched as you disappeared down the hallway, each step careful as if you were trying not to appear drunk. You’d had five shots and god only knows how many ciders, you were definitely still drunk. But he admired your effort, at least.

“What am I gonna do with her,” Mark said to Milo, shaking his head and picking the tiny dog up. Milo offered no wisdom in return, just kissed his face until Mark had to cut him off and set him down.

Despite Mark’s worries, he attempted to go about his night just as he normally would. He heard you opening and closing dresser drawers, probably a bit louder than you intended, signaling to him that you were at least capable of getting yourself changed for bed on your own. Thank god for that.

Mark himself changed into his usual sleepwear, a pair of basketball shorts and a muscle shirt, then proceeded to wash his face and brush his teeth. He felt like his ears were perked, waiting for any sign of trouble so that he could come to your rescue. It was a strange, pathetic feeling.

He glimpsed your figure out of the corner of his eye while he was mid-brush, purple toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. You had your toiletry bag in your arms, your previous outfit swapped out for a pair of leggings and an oversized college shirt.

“Can I?” you asked, nodding with your chin to the empty space at the sink.

“Mm,” he murmured in response, holding up one finger to signal you to wait a moment. He quickly finished brushing his teeth and rinsed his mouth, then took a sidestep to make room for you at the sink.

He tried not to stare at you and instead pretended like he was checking the shelf above the toilet for something, though he paid attention to the way you sat your bag down and unzipped it, sifting through it until you pulled out a bottle of clear liquid and a cotton pad.

You seemed a bit unsteady, wobbling a on your feet just standing still. You were holding the cotton pad and makeup remover in each hand, biting hard onto your lip.

“Y/N?” Mark asked. “You good?”

With a sigh, you shook your head. “Don’t feel good.”

“Well, that might have something to do with the liter of alcohol you drank,” he remarked with a smirk.

You whined and turned to Mark, surprising him by holding the items in your hands out to him. “Help. If I have to stare at myself in the mirror, I’m going to throw up.”

All he could do for a moment was stare down at your hands, the objects that were basically foreign to him. He’d never touched a bottle of makeup remover in his life, and the only time he used cotton swabs were for sterilization at the shop.

“I… what?” he stuttered.

“Just pour this on this, then wipe my makeup away. It’s easy.”

Mark blinked a few times, torn between telling you to do it yourself or just walking away. But the way you were gazing up at him with glassy eyes and the most pathetic frown was what made him reach for the cotton pad and makeup remover.

“Okay, just, close your eyes. And you can’t be mad at me if I do it wrong.”

You smiled, then, turning your body to lean back against the sink. Mark stood in front of you, popping open the cap of liquid and pouring some onto the cotton round. You gave him a nod of approval at the amount he used, then closed your eyes.

He slid the cotton pad over your eyes, overly gentle at first to a point where nothing was removed. So he went over again, until he was sure that he got the hang of it. He watched as all your mascara and eyeliner was wiped away, not that you’d had very heavy makeup on to start with.

“Mark,” you whispered, after he’d gotten your eye makeup off. You opened your eyes and Mark realized just how close to you he was standing, but he didn’t make any effort to move away.

“Yeah?” he replied, just as quietly.

“Why haven’t you asked why I’m not talking to my parents?”

Mark swallowed, his hand dropping from your face. “I figured you would tell me when you felt comfortable.”

You nodded. “I feel like I should tell you.”

“You don’t have to,” he replied, shaking his head. “Not if you’re not ready.”

Your bodies were so close together, he could smell the lingering perfume on your skin and he tried so hard not to inhale too deep, not to notice how good you smelled.

“I dropped out of school,” you blurted out. “When I told my parents, they…” you blew out an exhale, your eyes staring out over Mark’s shoulder as if you were remembering how it all happened. “They told me I could go back to school or get out of their house. They didn’t ask why I dropped out, or if I was okay, they just wanted me gone.”

Mark didn’t respond, although he had a thousand questions begging to be answered. But he wanted to give you the time, the space to share more if you wanted.

“I hated school. My grades were fine, they were excellent really, but I was miserable. I ended up… doing something really stupid, and it was the last straw.”

When you didn’t continue, instead locking eyes with Mark again, he swallowed and chose his words carefully.

“I’m sorry. No matter how I feel about your parents, that’s… it’s messed up. You deserve to have their support,” he said quietly, slowly bringing his hand back up to your face.

He swiped the cotton pad across your cheek, taking your makeup and a stray tear with it. You nodded and sniffed once.

“It’s okay. But that’s why I’m here,” you told him, voice quiet. “They forced me out. And I wanted to have a life, so I came to the city.”

“And?” Mark asked, trying to lighten the mood. “Is it everything you ever dreamed of?”

You laughed, soft and breathy. “It’s not so bad. I’ve got good company.”

When your eyes met, Mark felt that grip on his heart again. The way you looked at him made his mind foggy, like he had been the one to take five shots of whiskey. He hadn’t been looked at like this in a long time, maybe ever.

“Close your eyes,” Mark said. His voice came out deeper, more gravelly than he intended.

After you obeyed, he slid the cotton pad over your other eye to remove the makeup there, at least grateful to be free of your overwhelming gaze.

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?” you whispered, catching him off guard.

Mark was used to this question. At the age of thirty, he was expected to be in a serious relationship, if not already married. So when people found out he’d been single for years, they were shocked.

“Uh, well-” Mark stuttered, his fingers pausing as they brushed against your cheek. “I… I don’t go out a lot. And I guess I like being alone. I’m comfortable like this.”

“What about me?”

There it was again, that thumping in his chest.

“You’re different,” he whispered. He didn’t even notice he had dropped the cotton pad, leaving nothing between the soft skin of your cheek and his hand.

Your eyes fluttered open - clear, and so, so close. It stirred something in him, a feeling that had remained dormant for what felt like his entire life.

Then your lips were against his. It happened so fast, he didn’t even know who leaned in first. He was pretty sure you’d kissed him, but he had felt so drawn to you in that moment that he couldn’t be sure.

It only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough. Enough for you to tilt your head, slip your tongue past his lips. God, it’d been so long…

Mark surged back a step, his shins colliding with the tub behind him. He inhaled sharply, his lips tingling from your kiss.

“Oh, god,” you said, your eyes flying open. “Oh my god. Mark, I…” Your hand came up to cover your mouth as you stared at him.

“Shit,” Mark muttered, running his fingers through his hair. “Shit. It’s okay.”

He couldn’t look at you. He was looking anywhere but at your face as he rubbed his neck, trying to process the last ten seconds.

“I’m sorry,” you said. You turned from him, grabbing your bag from the sink and scurrying out of the room.

Mark watched you leave, listening for the sound of your bedroom door shutting behind you. He groaned quietly to himself, leaning his palms onto the sink.

“Fuck. Shit. You’re so fucking stupid,” he told himself in the mirror.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten. Once, twice, three times. He had no explanation, no excuse for what had just happened. You’d been the one to initiate the kiss, but he’d kissed you back.

He knew better. Despite the circumstances, he knew better than to look at you like that, as anything other than a friend. A little sister, even.

With one deep inhale and a long exhale, Mark made up his mind. He would do the right thing, no matter how hard it was or how much you’d hate him for it.

He grabbed his phone off of the sink, browsing his contacts until he found the name he’d been looking for. It was his new number, but he hoped he would answer.

Holding the phone up to his ear, Mark listened as the phone rang three times. He almost hung up, deciding that maybe it wasn’t worth it. Tomorrow, he could tell you to call him yourself.

The ringing stopped. “Hello?”

He cleared his throat. “Taehyung? Hey, man. It’s Mark.”

“Mark? Shit, it’s been a while. What’s up?”

Mark kept his eyes on the mirror, making sure he got a good look at himself as he flipped your world upside down.

“Look, this is probably unexpected, but… I need to talk to you. It’s about your sister.”

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