#shes come so far from being in a plastic bag on the road | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

setsugekka · 1 year

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❥classifieds (m)

↳ Stumbling upon a tossed out android in the park across the way from your place is one thing, but catching feelings for him? Well, that’s a whole other issue entirely, now isn’t it?

lee juyeon x afab!reader — chobits!au, fluff, awkward romance, angst with a happy ending, gratuitous sexual content, porn with plot [15.4k wc] cws: ethical/moral dilemmas pertaining to android sentience, sex under the influence of alcohol. sexual content: juyeon has a big dick and fucks like a pornstar because he is not strapped to normal mortal confines, penetrative sex (unprotected), (a lot) dirty talk, wet and messy.

With your cell phone shrugged up against your cheek as you lug a large, tied off garbage bag down two flights of stairs on account of the elevator being out of order, you can't help but feel somewhat discontented by the gentle huffs of laughter coming through from your friend on the other end of the line.

"You really gotta get out of that dump, it's so long past time now."

Sighing, you finally reach the lowest level of the apartment building, and with an aggressive tug, the far-too-full bag of paper waste follows through the front doors behind you. There's a recognizable tearing sound that you're hopeful is akin to more of a plastic flesh wound than anything that will result in even more picking up of mess than what you've already done tonight — but as you reach the end of the walkway and are met by the gracious offering of the dumpster sidelined at the street — you hurl the bag up and over your shoulder with as much strength as you can muster, while simultaneously and much to your displeasure feeling the slip of your phone from its nestled place, down to the concrete flooring below.

"Fuck, fuck...!"

On the other end, you can hear your friends' voice as she tumbles to the floor, juggled against your palms as you attempt to salvage the device. It seems to help to some degree as you manage to force it away from the cool, hard flooring and instead into the far more plush, albeit wet, grass just nearby — it's been raining all day, and you're none too pleased about that on account of the effect it tends to have on your already shoddy mood as of late — but regardless, your phone is safe, and picking it back up, you can hear said friend asking what's wrong as you bring it back up to your face.

"Sorry," you say in a hurry, suddenly realizing that you've transferred much of the wet and dirty from the ground to your face having not wiped the screen before ushering it back into place to respond. You wipe it quickly with a grimace and finish your thought. "Kind of all over the place. Been a long—"

You pause again, partially on account of trying to decipher just how long it has been that seemingly any and everything has been going wrong, but mostly as a result of the heaping pile of...you can't even begin to know what that has caught your eye from across the street.

Your heart beats heavy in your chest, because despite it not being all that late in the evening, and the lights of the park just across the way being very much still illuminated, there's one thing that you're relatively certain of and even from this distance now:

That's a body.

"—Life."

"What? What's wrong?"

Squinting, you're not entirely sure how to even answer that question. After all, this friend has now long since moved out of town and cannot possibly aid you in the situation at hand should it be a situation, and beyond even that much...how often does this sort of thing happen? What should you do? Call the police? Investigate?

You don't really want to see something that you can't ever possibly unsee, but the ethics of leaving what could be another human being over there — if they're alive, injured, in need of help...

"There's...a body, in the park across from my place."

You take a step towards the road.

"What!? Well what the fuck! Call the cops!"

Another step.

"What if it's just someone drunk and passed out? I'd hate to get them in more trouble than they really need on their hands," you reply with another step forward, now well on your way to crossing the quiet, residential street. "I'm just going to have a peek, I can call the police if I need to but I just want to be sure."

"You're crazy, what if it's a set up, what if you get attacked!?"

You hadn't considered that angle, and now that the thought is in your head, your heart beats just that much faster. Some sort of ploy to lure an unsuspecting person to them only to turn the tables and hurt them instead, you frown silently at the thought of it, but make no effort in changing your course, either.

"Well," you sigh, reaching the dewy, green grass of the other side of the road and stepping a tennis shoe atop it. "You'll know as much, you can call the cops then."

The following steps are quicker than the last, perhaps a part of you trying to get this over with as soon as possible on account of the worry of not knowing what may be awaiting you. Your friend says something on the line, though you only know as much due to the general sound of her voice and not because you've actually heard any of the words said. You suppose that with each step forward and towards the pile of flesh on the freshly mowed grass — just under a lamp post and as if entirely meant to be presented for your finding — that the loud thump of your heartbeat against the inside of your chest is all too capable of drowning out any other sounds that may insist on being heard by you.

You sort of had wanted to be wrong; about the whole that's a body thing. Unfortunately, now that you're here, you're proverbially kicking yourself for having been such an adept guesser as much.

Eyes wide as you gaze down at the pile of person just before your feet, you know that your friend is still talking to you, and you're a bit aware of how frantic she sounds with each passing second, though you're a bit distracted by the goings on before you now.

A bit curled up and almost in the fetal position on his side, at a glance it appears to be a man: mid-twenties if you had to guess with messy, mid-length black hair that appears freshly shaved at the sides and adorning far too visually pleasing and clean clothes to be someone who has gone through something all that horrible leading up to their last moments here and now.

In fact, he seems immaculately clean — not a spec of dirt or blood or any evidence of blemish gracing him at all. Even as far as your assumption of a drunk evening out, you'd think someone to have far more signs to show of it before reaching the point of having passed out in a public park just a few blocks down the street from the bar district.

If the scene before you reminds you of anything, it's at most like a house cat — simply curled up for a midday slumber where ever he may deem fit.

"HELLO!?"

Wincing, now that the terror that has held you hostage up until now has seemingly dissipated a good amount, the shrill shrieking of your best friends' voice can once again be heard through the speaker, though you're not all that thrilled about it.

"Hey, it's fine," you answer back calmly, still staring down towards the man at your feet — contemplating what, if anything, you're meant to do about this. "I think it's just a drunk guy passed out, though he certainly doesn't look like he had all that wild of a night."

"Lemmie see."

That's right, video calling. Pulling the phone back, you switch the call type and turn the camera angle down towards what it is that you've been graced with. You're not expecting all that much of a response, so when she gasps in what would seem to be misplaced horror, to say that you're shocked would be quite the understatement.

Because what is so shocking about this, anyway?

"That's not a guy you moron," your friend says in utter disappointment of you. "That's a persocom. Look, you can see the serial number just under his ear."

You hadn't noticed upon first look, though you hadn't been looking for any such thing to begin with, but now that it has been mentioned, you bend down to a squatting position to get a better look at what it is that she is referring to.

And just as she said, there it is: the number eleven situated just below and behind his earlobe.

You sigh. "Okay, so...what do I do with him? Should I call like...the pound?"

"He's not a dog, he's an android, what do you think animal control is going to do about him?"

"I don't know! I just don't know what to do with him! Should I just...leave him here?"

A few moments of silence pass by as your friend hums in thought before finally responding to your inquiry with a far too cheerful tone.

"Take him home with you. He looks like an expensive model, probably a custom build so I doubt someone just carelessly lost him. My guess is he's been abandoned because things got a little messy back at home and the original owner didn't know how best to deal with it — or rather, couldn't handle powering him down."

You don't really know what any of that means, all things considered. Persocoms being far from your area of expertise on account of never in your life having enough money to ever own one yourself; instead, they're simply a thing that you're aware of the existence of, but far from anything that you understand in any great detail.

The idea of a live-in android, a humanoid personal computer willing and able to help you with any and all tasks that you may find yourself in need of — the idea certainly doesn't sound terrible when you think of it like that, but there is one thing that rings heavy in your ear even if the concept of it glossed over so carelessly.

'—things got a little messy back at home—'

Whatever that means.

"Is it even legal for me to take him? What if someone comes looking for him? Isn't he someone else's property?"

The shrug on the other end of the line is nearly audible as your friend hums an answer to all of the questions presented.

"If they cared that much, they wouldn't have left him here. No one dumps their million dollar car in the middle of a parking lot with the keys in the ignition expecting it to still be there the next day."

Fair enough.

"You're gonna need some help getting him inside, though. Ask your cute, burly neighbor to help you bring your lil twinkbot inside — oh, and record it for me, that guy is so hot."

"I'm hanging up now, I've apparently got things to do."

"Ta-ta! Have fun getting your kitchen cleaned!"

Ending the call and finally alone with your thoughts, as well as the predicament presented before you — you think over again just why it is that someone would leave something so expensive, so presumably prized out here for any other random person to come and confiscate. You feel sort of bad, but you also suppose that should you come to find that anyone is in search of the item that you can just as easily return it back to them, and in better shape than however he would have ended up should he be left out here in the cold, rainy elements of the overnight outdoors, as well.

Something about the road to hell being paved with good intentions nestles into the back of your mind as you make your way back to your apartment to grab your neighbor friend.

As it would turn out, there are perks to having some nerdy, technologically-attuned pals.

Two knocks at your front door and you're quick to your feet, long strides across your apartment and towards the sound before you quickly open the door to welcome the all too excited smile that's awaiting on the opposite end.

You gently frown. "You're way too happy about all of this."

Popping an arm up on the wood of the doorway entrance, Changmin allows the grin to grow just that much wider at your displeasure. "Never thought you'd be the one to end up with a persocom, what can I say? Of course I'm excited. Now, let me see him!"

Stepping aside barely in time before your friend pushes his way inside anyways, Changmin barely kicks his shoes off in time before he's rushing across the open living area and over towards the slumped body of the android that you suppose is now yours.

Stopping just in front of him, you pause only halfway towards the two of them as your pal turns to look at you from over his shoulder, and you're none too pleased with the devilish grin pulling at the corners of his lips.

"He's handsome," Changmin says with some sort of insistence in his voice, though you feign not understanding it. "I mean, they're meant to be easy on the eyes but this one is something special."

You roll your eyes. "Okay, well, he's not mine and I didn't make him, so that really is neither here nor there as far as I'm concerned."

"Sure," he waves off, as if not entirely willing to take you at your word. "He's probably a custom build, a lot of money in this kind of work."

Silenced, you watch as Changmin kneels down in front of the couch where the model sits, tinkering at the limbs and looking the details over before finally reaching up under the long, white dress shirt and seemingly dipping a hand down into the waist of the persocoms pants.

"Uh," you motion in discomfort at the sight. "What are you doing?"

Changmin glances back at you again, first in confusion, and second with a roll of his eyes upon realizing why it is that you're acting some kind of way about where his hands have disappeared to. "Control panel is at the hip, calm down. If you're interested in the more intimate details of the model I'll let you figure that out on your own time."

"Changmin!"

"Just saying," he chuckles, pulling his hands back and settling the fabric back in place again. Standing once again, he leans forward and takes the chin in one hand, closely looking over the facial features of the android and subsequently checking for life. "Now we just wait and see if he boots up."

There's not long to wait, however; watching on in anticipation for only a few seconds, the slumped stature sprawled across your couch lazily blinks a few times, as if having just been asleep like any other person. Much to your surprise, there's nothing especially bizarre or robotic about it, at all. In fact, his resemblance to human is sort of uncanny. Changmin releases him and steps back to stand next to you as you both watch in a sort of awe as the man on your couch pulls himself up into a more proper, sitting, position, rubbing his eyes from slumber before they bring themselves up and towards you to settle.

"Now what?" you whisper with a gentle lean towards your friend.

Changmin answers with a question towards the model. "Do you have a name?"

A few moments of silence pass, and it causes you to wonder if there is some sort of internal memory damage done that would result in the original owners dumping him off in such a way. Surely, there has to be some reason.

"Juyeon," he says, although it comes off in tone as if a bit in question. Unsure of the answer even himself.

"Cool, he works!" Changmin exclaims with a clap of his hands, eyes wide and bright and full of promise of what's to come despite the persocom being far from his own. "Do you have an owner? Someone we should return you to?"

Narrow, thoughtful eyes glance up towards the ceiling before coming back down and settling onto Changmin. "I have no recollection of previous ownership in my memory banks."

Glancing towards you, your friend shrugs. "Guess he's all yours, then."

Great.

You're happy to take a bit of a more background role right about now as you listen in on the way that Changmin engages with Juyeon, instead, you look over the persocom as he sits on the plush furniture now — seated more proper and with palms pressed to his knees as his eyes look up towards the man speaking to him. He reminds you something of a school boy listening in on a lecture.

"It's settled then!"

Not having realized that you've spaced out, the loud chiming voice of your friend brings you back down to earth with a crash as you're left to wonder what it is, exactly, that has been settled in those few moments of your not having been paying attention.

"What?"

With a strong hand at your shoulder, Changmin pushes you forward, and stumbling towards Juyeon, the two of you meet eyes once again — though yours certainly much larger and full of unease than his — in fact, he appears calm, if not a little unaware of his surroundings in a sort of charmingly confused way.

"He's yours, like I said," Changmin reiterates as he heads back towards the front door to see himself out. "Everything's set, he's good to go, the rest is up to you to work out."

"I don't even know what that means! What do I...do with him?"

Juyeon's still looking up at you with his gaze locked — brown eyes and a dark dusting of what you can only figure is a mixture of eyeliner and smoked eyeshadow that gives him even more of a cat-like allure, you suppose that whoever it was that had this model made certainly had a knack for it as far as visuals go, though what that entails and the uses for such a dashingly handsome model of life-like android...well, you're not sure you really want to delve so deeply into that.

Regardless, you hear Changmin huff out a laugh under his breath at your question, as well as the gentle sound of your front door being cracked open.

"That's entirely between you and him."

Over the following months, living with someone else begins to settle into a routine.

You figure it's simple enough, at least: Juyeon is happy enough with any accommodation you offer him. Countless of late night hours following his 'moving in' of sorts would inform you that owning a persocom is not much different from having a pet, though with far less emotional or interpersonal demands from you, and much more usefulness around the house.

Forum users often would post their routines with their persocoms and the work schedules that they would have them on. First time owners advised to settle into one, themselves, and to not allow themselves to view the androids as humans, though they certainly do resemble as much, and nearly unidentifiably different from anyone else in the crowd next to them. It's an intriguing sort of subculture, in a way: owners and persocoms and their relationships between one another. Some people happy to effectively use their personal computer androids as household slaves — keepers of the homes for nothing more than doing the tasks that the humans wish not to do, while others, you would find on one particular night after following what would turn out to be a quite fascinating internet paper trail of links, would view their persocoms as much, much more than that.

You would also come to find that the overlap in custom models, and owners with far more deeply established relationships with their persocoms, is stark.

It comes as no surprise the more you read into it and think about it: custom build computers far from unheard of in the realm of traditional hardware, so when it comes to someone interested in building what may effectively serve to be their exact, ideal type in a partner — all of the bells and whistles, every feature both physical and in personality perfectly manifested and created to serve — you find yourself occasionally looking at Juyeon through the eyes of whoever it was that set out to create him to serve that exact purpose for them.

And then wonder why it is that he has ended up in your possession now.

Seated at the dining room table now and with your laptop open, you glance up over the top of it towards the man in question as he scrubs a dish at the sink with one of your pink, frilled aprons snugly tied around his neck and waist — it's kind of a charming sight, you can't lie — and it's easy to see how someone could get used to this sort of thing. You've not settled into any particular routine with Juyeon at this point, and in part it's because you know yourself to be assigning him a particular level of personification that you've read time and time again to be ill-advised. It's difficult not to, however. So human in looks and the way that he simply exists around you, even the way that you find yourself thinking of him — as a 'man' — you recognize is probably far from the way that you should be viewing him. Regardless, as a result of your confusion in how to go about living like this, Juyeon has not settled in as your live in housekeeper, nor as your prized boy-toy, either. There are days where the both of you take on tasks around the house, sometimes he will clean the bathroom while you vacuum the house, but often, many days are spent with the both of you seated next to one another on the couch; little more going on than enjoying the television nestled across the way and against the wall.

Sometimes you suppose Juyeon's job is to do little more than simply exist in your shared space together, and he appears happy enough to do as much.

Though, it brings up another question in and of itself: does he have feelings? Does he experience happiness?

Of course, the obvious answer would be no. Androids don't have feelings, computers are not sentient. Weeks and weeks spent together with Juyeon, you can't be sure if you're becoming too comfortable with him and as a result losing your wits in relation to him just that much more, because there are moments where you're nearly certain that he must be experiencing some level of sentience. Emotion. A feeling. More hours spent late at night and long after he falls asleep to rest reading the accounts of other people truly feeling as if they've felt the same about their persocoms — only to be met with the backlash of people far more logically attuned, perhaps — because even as you read the stories from people who post just as much the same as you find yourself believing, you can't help but think them to be a bit too deeply enmeshed with what is ultimately, just a computer.

You think them to be crazy, and yet you think Juyeon to be different. So really, who is the delusional one?

When you ask him if he is happy, he tells you that he is. An easily programmed response, and especially for a custom build intended to be a specific someone's everything. No talking back, no free-thought, you exist to be mine and to live by me alone. You will be happy with it, but more than that, you won't express anything of the contrary.

A miserable life, even if he is incapable of truly feeling misery. Maybe you're projecting, both happiness and displeasure mutually upon a being so far from experiencing either of them.

Glancing over his shoulder and as if feeling your gaze at the back of his head, Juyeon gently smiles before turning back to rinse a glass in hand. You smile back, though it's slow in response and past the point of his ability to see it.

What truly charms you about Juyeon, though; beyond his sharp, model-esque looks and his impressive ability to get groceries put away in all of their proper places in record time, is more the cat-like and borderline vacuous curiosity that remains nestled behind his eyes. In moments when not tasked with something, you often catch yourself watching him — looking around the apartment at all of the elements surrounding him — small trinkets that glitter and shine, seemingly so intriguing to him in a way that you can't quite understand.

Because why would any of this be of any interest to him? Why should he have any interest in anything, at all?

It sort of dawns on you then, watching as Juyeon places the last glass into the drying rack next to the sink, that rather than doing late night internet searches and mulling over thoughts to yourself about the hows and whys and other inter-workings of whatever it is that makes up his mind, instead, it may just be time to do the most obvious thing.

Get to know him yourself.

"Want to sit with me?"

It feels weird to ask him, though you're not entirely sure why. You always present everything to Juyeon as a question, even tasks around the house. You know there is not likely to ever be a situation where he will deny you as much, it's almost certainly not programmed within his software at all (an ethical quandary in and of itself), but now you have no household errands for him to take care of. Rather, it's the most casual of circumstances in which you find yourself asking something of him.

Turning, it's almost as if his eyes light up at the question, though you curse yourself internally for even thinking as much. There's definitely a learning curve to this whole 'living with an android and not personifying him' thing.

"Of course."

Pulling up the chair just next to you, Juyeon settles in and his eyes settle upon you expectantly. You know this look, it's the look that is anticipating more tasks to be laid upon him. It makes you feel guilty, however — as if you're overworking him, asking too much of him already though you think it more likely that you ask far less of your persocom than many others do of their own.

It's quite literally a major function of his existence, so why does it feel so bad to use him as such?

Perhaps something to do with the way that Juyeon looks at you — as if you're the only person in the world. You suppose that for him that much is true, because as far as he can remember, the only other people in the world besides him are you, and Changmin.

It might be time to take him outside, but that's not the topic of discussion for tonight.

Pushing your laptop out of the way and instead replacing it with the glass of liquid, you nervously run your thumb over the rim as you purposefully avert your eyes from the man seating next to you. Really, you called this meeting long before you were reading for it, and now that it's here, you're not entirely sure what to say.

A shallow inhale, you pull your eyes upwards to finally meet his. "I want to...get to know you."

The silence following is deafening as you await a response. You imagine the gears twisting and turning inside of his machinery as if there's some kind of factory that lies beneath the faux flesh and hair that sits before you, though logically you know it not to be the case. Instead, you can see the proverbial gears of contemplation firing in that beautiful skull of his as he mulls over the words, and with pretty lips ever so slightly parted, he finally gives you a reply.

"What do you want to know?"

Juyeon's voice is deep and velvety in a way that you haven't thought about that much until this very moment. You suppose it's in large part because you've not sat down and had an actual conversation with him before now. It's pleasant, and kind of sexy — but you're quick to correct the thought as soon as it enters the mind.

"You said you don't remember anything about your owners before me, but do you know anything about...yourself?" you inquire slowly, as if treading upon waters that you're entirely unsure about. You don't want to offend him, or bring up unwanted memories, though you question how realistic a concern that even might be. "Like, do you have television shows you like, or a favorite color...foods you enjoy — though, I guess you don't eat food..."

Your words begin to sound a bit like rambling the longer you carry on, as well as you coming to realize that you actually have a lot of questions for him as he sits before you now.

Still, you watch as one, single corner of Juyeon's lips perk upwards, as if somewhere deep down in there he is thrilled about your interest in him beyond scrubbing tiles and porcelain.

Chin nestled against his palm with an elbow planted into the wooden table beneath, he cocks his head to the side and looks at you with nothing less than fondness.

"I can eat," he begins softly, quietly. "It's for show, of course, but I can. Shows, colors, anything like that...I guess it will just take more time, but I enjoy the things that we watch together in the evenings."

"We always watch something different, you just like everything?"

Juyeon hums in thought, and you wonder how much of it is for show as if to allude to the fact that he has any free will or thought at all. "I don't like the news. I don't like to hear about bad things happening to people."

Oh? A chink in the programming?

He continues the thought with little pause, eyes glancing up towards the ceiling. "I like those shows where a lot of strange people live together in a house and have fun all of the time, even though it seems to end up in fighting a lot..."

You laugh into the rim of your glass as you bring it up to your lips. "You like trashy reality television? I didn't expect that one."

It does raise a particular set of questions, however: the ins and outs of the goings on between sexually active and attractive people in reality television settings — how much of what would commonly be described as a typical, romantic, physically intimate encounter between people does Juyeon understand?

But you're not going to ask it like that, either. Because weird.

You take a sip of your drink and swallow hard before setting it back down onto the table.

"How much of the...human experience...do you know? Like, beyond speaking, cooking, cleaning — all of the basic, simple things — I guess I'm asking about...your programming?" you finally stutter the words out, though once you have, you can't help but laugh at yourself in the aftermath. "God, it's so awkward."

"You don't have to talk to me like I'm any different from you," Juyeon comforts, sliding a hand across the table to settle atop one of your own. It reminds you that you've engaged in physicality so little since his arrival to you, and his touch offering an unanticipated warmth that you wouldn't have expected from someone so far from human. "We're the same in all of the ways that matter, we just come from different places. I think that's the best way to look at it."

You swallow hard, heart beating surprisingly hard within your chest at the touch offered to you by him.

"But to answer your question; I have the same understanding as anyone else would, any other man of my age. I know of and understand the concept of the range of emotions, I feel feelings just like you, I feel touch and nervousness all the same. I understand romance, and passion, and—"

He pauses on the word, narrow, dark eyes glancing up from the table and meeting your own across the way. His gaze feels smoldering now in a way not before felt: kitten-like cuteness now replaced by a similarly feline but much more sinister presentation, your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him as his lips part once more to finish the sentence one started.

"—Everything else in between."

Throat dry at the words and touch, you shake it off briefly and hope for him not to notice the way you sit flustered as a result of it. Ridiculous as it is, there's something about the way that he looks at you and speaks to you in that moment that feels far too much like flirting, and worse than that, you shiver at how easy you found yourself lost in it, as well.

But Juyeon isn't real, not in the human sort of way, and you'll be damned if you allow yourself to fall romantically or sexually attracted to your live-in android pal. Not if you have anything to say about it.

Besides, that's a whole other can of ethically and morally questionable can of worms that you're not interested in wading through any time soon.

Instead, you abruptly pull your hand away with a loud clearing of your throat and your eyes just as sharply averted from his.

"Well, it's late," you say shakily, scooting your chair back with a loud noise and gathering your cardigan from the back of it. "Should probably head to bed, have a lot of work to do tomorrow."

You don't wait for a response, grabbing your laptop from the table and spinning to head towards your room. Avoiding his eyes all the while, it's only when you realize that you've left your dirty glass where it certainly doesn't belong do you still and resign yourself to having to turn back and face the man as he remains — presumably still seated where you've left him in wake of your humiliation.

A deep inhale, followed by a slow turn. When your eyes fall upon Juyeon again — messy dark hair and your cute, frilled apron still hugging his form, the glass is already in hand and you're met with the most disarming, delicate eye smile — almost as if a different man entirely sits there now from before.

"Don't worry," he says cutely and quietly. "I'll take care of it."

The following couple of months pass far quicker than expected as the greenery of summertime melt away in favor of earthier browns, reds and oranges — it's as if the world itself offering you the perfect opportunity to change and shift your interactions with Juyeon and subsequently, his interactions with the world around him.

Numerous, afternoon shopping outings for long sleeved shirts, jackets and scarves for him, paired with warm drinks that only you drink but none to anyone's acknowledgement should they pass by in brief, you can't help but feel the adoring swelling of your heart as a result of scenarios such as these: Juyeon isn't your boyfriend, he's barely even a boy, at all, but there are truths of the matter, and as much as you try not to lend too much thought to them, it still remains that where once sat a kind of emptiness in your life — no longer it remains as evident as before.

After a long day out together with your persocom, the two of you return back to your apartment far later in the night than originally planned on account of missing a train and getting lost just a bit outside of town, even in spite of having a literal computer along with you for the ride. Still, Juyeon holds the bags in hand and at elbow bend as he kicks his shoes from his feet and shakes his hat off to the floor like a child. The scene brings a smile to your face as you hang your coat onto the hanger, and gently pulling bags from long, fully capable arms, you and he briefly meet eyes in a way that feels so much different than most of the other times that you do.

A fondness for him growing in your heart. Nurtured everyday by the fact that you live with him, cook with him, shop with him, do everything with him. There are little boundaries imposed between the two of you, and as a result of it, you find yourself becoming far too enmeshed with each other in a way that you know is well on its way to becoming unwise.

The truth is that Juyeon is kind, and thoughtful, and everything that you would want in a partner.

Everything that you would want in a partner that you have no hope of ever finding so long as he remains in your life, taking up the space that he does — not only in your apartment, but in your life, in general.

Comfortably nestled between the sheets of your bed, you sigh into the cool air of your bedroom as it gently swirls in circulation on account of the quiet spin of the ceiling fan just above you. Eyes slowly falling to a close as sleep begins to take you after a long and busy day, the stirring of your bedroom door just about fails to pull you back from the grips of slumber — as if unsure of its having happened at all.

One eyelid cracking open to survey your surroundings, you glance over towards the ever so slight pooling of illumination from the hallway, obstructed only by the tall, lanky silhouette of someone dangerously and conveniently familiar to you.

"What's wrong?" you question in a whisper, but Juyeon doesn't step any further forward in response.

Instead, you're met with a few moments of uncommon silence before you hear him inhale to answer.

"Can I—" he pauses again, trepidation heavy in the air between you. "—Can I sleep with you tonight?"

Oh.

Oh?

You know that you don't have that long to mull over the inquiry without bringing about even more worry and anxiety that is quite evidently already present within him. The idea of that alone is something that you've spent so much time talking yourself out of ever since finding him powered off and abandoned in the park just across the way that to be faced with the fact now and again — even in spite of being told as much straight from the mouth of the man himself — you have no choice but to take him and his word at face value now, as well as come to a decision as quickly as possible.

The relationship has been easy thus far, simple, enjoyable; in ways, something like this feels like the obvious next step.

Relationship.

Perhaps the obvious next step if Juyeon were human, and capable of even being in a true relationship with you, or anyone, for that matter.

Matters of the heart often at odds with the mind, but really, what's the worst that could happen? Friends share sleeping arrangements, family members share sleeping arrangements — you know yourself to be more than capable of doing as much without it becoming sexual.

Talking yourself into it, the beginnings of coping with having made a decision that you know not to be the one that you likely should be making.

Either way, you're out of time.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

You're not so much startled awake by the feeling of it, in fact, you're willing to melt into the touch much quicker than perhaps you might have anticipated. Perhaps it's on account of teetering just on the edge of consciousness, and thus not entirely having all of your wits about you — maybe if you were in better form you would be far more willing to make the better, proper choice.

The gentle shifting push of your thigh out of the way, then the delicate curl of long, adept fingers into the sides of your panties — maybe you would have more of a chance, but not after the feeling of the smooth, blunt tip of his length sliding through your wetness from behind and bumping right snug against your clit with what one can only assume to be some sort of practiced ease.

You're certainly awake now as the groan catches in your throat and your eyes roll back ever so slightly — Juyeon continues on with the motions, too; there's no accident in his movements against you, faux-fucking you though with no penetration as he repeatedly delivers slow, stead drives of his hips against you from behind as you lie spooned and somewhat pinned beneath him.

He's heavy, but doesn't feel much more so than any other man of a much larger stature than your own. Instead, his lips press up against the shell of your exposed ear almost instantaneously with hot puffs of air cascading down from his mouth onto the quickly dampening flesh of your face as you remain caged under him.

"Does it feel good?" he whispers against you, and with the way that his breath catches on his own words, you'd swear that it must feel similarly erotic for him, as well.

You nod ever so slightly, managing out the most meager of replies as the feeling of him relentlessly prodding your most sensitive parts begins to have a building need for more and more. "Yeah."

"Do you want to feel more of me?" Juyeon then asks, hand slipping back from your underwear and fingers instead gripping tightly into your hip, as if to put the thought in your mind of how he could have you should you allow him to.

He sounds absolutely sinful in your ear like this, and you've briefly been made aware of this side of him before, though not one you've allowed yourself any time to mentally explore. It's something you've put well and far out of your mind — the possibility of this, the crossing of this line. You've done the reading, you understand the long list of potential purposes of persocoms...

He lightly groans into your ear, and it rips you back from your thoughts.

"I can make you cum over, and over, and over again," he says in addition, never relenting the slow, pointed glide of his cock through your folds. The persistent itch of a budding orgasm is felt between your legs, and you want deeply to be bigger than the urge.

"I have—" Juyeon whispers against you again, and this time it's paired with a particular shift back of his hips. You know what's coming, the most cognizant part of your mind choosing instead to feign ignorance just for the chance to simply enjoy this for what it is, and with little other thoughts or considerations accompanying it. Blunt, press of the end of him at your entrance, followed just thereafter by the slow, smooth sinking of his length into you as the rest of the thought finally exits his sinister lips.

"—Endless stamina."

"Fuck, Juyeon—"

"Yes?"

It takes you a few moments. Moments that feel like hours as you come back to consciousness and try to make sense of what's real and what isn't, but what you can quickly gather is that that was not real, and now that your eyes are open to view Juyeon laid up in bed just beside you: hair messy, eyes on you, and very much hands (and everything else, for that matter) to himself — this is real.

As is the suffering throb between your legs.

"Dreaming of me?"

You know he's joking, and you chuckle it off as normally — albeit, nervously — as you can. "Yeah, I guess so."

Having a hard time facing his gaze despite feeling it on your skin, you're only able to offer him a quick glance before hastily knocking the sheets from you and clamoring out of bed towards the bathroom for a much needed, freezing cold shower.

"Anything you remember?" Juyeon calls out lazily and through a yawn, turning himself over in place as to follow your movement with his attention like a pet who is all too interested in your every whereabouts.

Over your dead body.

"No."

You slam the door shut. It's on accident, of course, blame it on being so tightly wound up.

Two days later, with the dream mostly out of your mind and the ability to make eye contact with your persocom having come back into your routine, after a simple dinner and a movie outing that turns a bit into dinner, a movie, and some drinks — with a light buzz that has your head a bit in the clouds and your inhibitions somewhere up there with them, once arriving back to your apartment with Juyeon, you find your eyes lingering on his form just that much more than you might typically allow yourself to view: quite a tall figure with broad shoulders and such a pretty, small waist to accentuate the curve of him — if the work done on his face alone wasn't perfection enough, then whoever had such a custom build done certainly didn't allow for the attention to detail to end there.

You wonder how much else of him is molded perfectly to someone's tastes, but shake the thought from your intoxicated head just as fast. You cannot be doing this. Not now, and not ever.

Juyeon pulls off his coat, setting it up onto the rack and dipping perfectly manicured fingers into the neckline of his white, button down, dress shirt — you watch him from the corner of your eye, though you wish yourself to have the self control not to — gently tugging at the buttons and leaving just a few of them undone in a trail that leads just far enough down the front of his chest to expose the pale, flesh there without showing off too much. A tease, though he's not doing anything in particular, and especially not on purpose.

This is entirely on you, and projection in its truest form. Curiosity certainly is having its way with you now.

Clearing your throat, you manage to pull your eyes away from him entirely, though the awkwardness of your movements draws his attention, anyway. Pulling your shirt from your pants in the beginnings of undressing for a shower and bed, you suppose it is simply time for yet another ice cold shower — not the first, and likely far from the last should these living arrangements persist.

But the clasping of Juyeon's hand around your wrist has other plans for you entirely, as it would seem.

Gently tugging you back towards him, everything feels like slow motion as his head dips down towards yours — other hand coming up to delicately cradle the side of your jaw as he leans in — you still in place for numerous reasons; fear, anticipation, concern, excitement. Juyeon pauses just after you, lips nearly feathering over your own with how little distance now rests between the two of you.

"Warming up to me, are you?" he asks in just above a whisper. You're not sure how to answer that, largely on account of the fact that it feels as though he can read your mind. A response isn't necessary though, because he continues the thought. "I can tell. I can feel the way your heart races or your body temperature shifts..."

You can't help it, chin shifting upward ever so slightly as if in an attempt to close the distance, but if he recognizes the half-assed effort, Juyeon doesn't allow it and maintains the gap still.

"You're interested..."

"I'm...curious," you correct, and for once it's actually the truth.

"Curious," Juyeon copies with slightly upturned corners of his lips. The air between the both of you feels stifling now and as though there isn't nearly enough to go around. Dizzying close to him in such a way that has you wanting to reach out and touch him far more than ever before, you have got to keep your cool — alcohol induced bravery being no excuse to make decisions that under normal circumstances you might never make.

And then come to regret.

But you suppose that the thing just said about being able to tell is true; Juyeon takes the moment into his own hands and walks you back only a few steps so that your back is against the wall. Now caged in by him, it reminds you briefly of the dream only a few days ago, although you face him like this now — reaching down, Juyeon takes one of your hands into his own and leads it up towards the unbuttoned mess of shirt along the top of his chest, pressing your palm to that very place as if urging you to touch him, feel him, be forced to acknowledge that he very much is here and real in all of the ways that really, truly matter. Physically, mentally, emotionally — Juyeon is just as much there as any other man you could have in your apartment this evening.

Your fingertips meet at the skin of his sternum, and though you've made physical contact with him before, you're surprised by his warmth each and every time. You don't anticipate him to ever feel as human as he does — even a light, barely there sheen of perspiration to the touch from the long walk between the train station and your home.

The science doesn't make any sense, or maybe it does and your judgment simply far too clouded by inebriation and desire to put the pieces together, but the thoughts are immediately put out of your head when Juyeon closes the distance between your mouths finally and kisses you hard where you stand against him.

Head slightly cocked to the side for just the right angle, when Juyeon's lips part against yours and his tongue dips delicately across your own you think for sure your knees might just give out from beneath you. Thankful for the wall at your back, fingers curling into the white shirt that they were placed upon — you know this is spiraling out of control, and quickly, but at this point...

You're not sure you have the self-control to do anything about it.

Suddenly and much to your displeasure, however, Juyeon breaks the kiss and pulls away from you, though not breaking the physical contact between you entirely as he takes your hand into his own and leads you towards the living room — seating himself on the couch, the very same couch where Changmin booted him up and back to life only a handful of months prior to now — you stand somewhat awkwardly as he gazes up at you with those same, devilishly slender eyes that you know to be hiding some sort of ideas of misdoings behind them.

Large hands slowly coming up to the buttons of his shirt again, his eyes never leave your own as he continues to release more of them; one by one another button falls away from the shirt that keeps the fabric held together, the flesh hidden behind, and with each one your breath catches in your throat. In situations like this, albeit infrequent as they are, you're given ample time to think about this, about this and what this is and what you're doing. It's wrong. Objectionable at best and ethically despicable at worst, you're fairly sure...

Your eyes look up from his hands and to his own instead, Juyeon meets your gaze with slightly parted lips and the gentle, erotic poke of his tongue to the inside of his cheek as his fingers run out of white buttons to unfasten, only to travel just a bit further down in journey of finding more.

"You said you're curious, " he says finally, pulling apart the button of his trousers with ease and making just as quick work of the zipper. "So, what are you curious about?"

You're fairly certain you're going to pass out.

He looks ungodly hedonistic like this under the barely illuminated evening lighting of your apartment living space — legs spread and undressing himself for your viewing pleasure. You wonder how much better of a person you would have to be to withstand this kind of test, because Lord have mercy, you are on the precipice of failing now.

Juyeon brings his thumbs up to hook into the hip of his slacks, and raising his lower half he gently pulls them down just enough to be out of the way.

All the while his eyes never leave your face.

"Curious about functionality?" he questions, though it sounds a bit as if it's rhetorical. An inquiry to no one in particular as your eyes fall to the far too fitted black fabric that now lies between your eyes and whatever it is that is hidden beneath. Juyeon brings one hand up to the bulge there, slowly palming over himself as you watch him. "Anatomical correctness?"

You swallow down absolutely nothing into the desert that is your throat as you watch on.

Then, he dips the same hand beneath the fabric, wrapping a fist around himself and shallowly pumping. Only now does he allow his eyes to fall from you — head falling back against the couch and eyes rolling shut at the feeling of himself.

"Or is it more—" he whispers again through his ministrations. "—Personal taste?"

"You're going to ruin my life," you finally manage out, but to that, Juyeon only laughs with a careful raise of his head once more to look at you.

"Quite the contrary," he says in response, still slowly palming himself beneath his briefs. "I can be any and everything you want me to be."

Inhaling sharply and with an evident shake of uncertainty to your stature, you look into Juyeon's eyes again — deeply, firmly — and come to a decision. It might not be a good one, and it almost certainly is not the correct one, but it's a decision nonetheless; made here and now.

You'll deal with the fallout should the time come.

"I want to touch you."

Juyeon doesn't reply with words, instead pulling his own hand from himself and granting you the space to experiment as you see fit. Knelt between his legs, your own palms slowly snake up his thighs only to meet at either side of the place that your curiosity mostly resides. Eyes fluttering up towards his own again before you go any further, one corner of his lips perking upwards in fondness has your nerves quelling just ever so slightly, though not nearly enough to put the entirety of the issue to bed.

"Do you...feel it?"

Fingers curling into the elastic waistband of his briefs, you tug them down along his slender hips gently to expose the long, hard, length of his cock to your eyes in totality. Part of you is almost surprised to find him to be erect at all, though you suppose it wouldn't make much sense, otherwise. You've done enough reading to know physical intimacy to very much be a feature of many persocom models, and especially custom builds, it should come as no surprise now.

Juyeon was built to serve many needs of someone's, and sex was most certainly one of them.

Taking him into your palm, the contact brings a jolt from him, and you suppose that's answer enough to the question. Juyeon answers still.

"I feel everything," he sighs out, reveling in the feeling of your hand along his shaft. "Pleasure, pain...I feel it all."

At that, you begin a languid, lazy pace along him, watching the way his chest heaves and falls with every stroke — amazed by how real he feels in your hand. Long, but not particularly thick, his cock weighs heavy in your palm, and even seeing a beading of precum at the slit surprises you, thumb coming up to swirl it along the wide, blunt tip of him.

He writhes beneath your touch at that, a groan caught in his chest while dark eyes stare down at you.

"You have...cum?" you question, still slowly swirling the liquid around the head and enjoying the unraveling of him like this.

While erotic in the most basic sense, something about the situation feels clinical, nearly scientific, in a sense. Even with Juyeon's cock in your hand as you stroke him off like this, you can't help but think it a bit like an experiment. Unsure touches that lack fundamental understanding, rather than something truly intimate and sexual in nature between two people. In the meanwhile, your free hand slowly traverses the exposed flesh of his abdomen just up the way…smooth to the touch by familiarly muscular beneath the pads of your fingers.

Maybe this ought to be how the first time goes, you can't be sure one way or another.

Barely capable of holding his head upright and with only one eye cracked open to look down at you, Juyeon forces out a reply as best he can. "Not in the traditional sense, of course, but you wouldn't know the difference in the moment."

"How?"

"Won't it ruin the allure?" he chuckles under his breath, though it hitches at the tail end with a particular flick of your wrist along him. "Knowing the technical workings of it all?"

You don't answer him, at least, not verbally; instead, you lean forward to take him into your mouth with a swirl of your wet, warm tongue over the head of his cock to taste him in full.

It earns you a full bodied groan, one that you've apparently been dying to hear.

Slowly bobbing along half of his length, you're only given a few moments of taking him before you feel a strong hand under your jaw — carefully pulling your mouth up and off of him to instead look him in the eye as he speaks to you.

"I can still cum in you," he whispers out, thumb ghosting over the wet of your bottom lip and lewdly pushing his hips up to glide the tip of his cock against your messy, used mouth. "More than most, if that's what you like."

The words bring such a painful throb to the space between your legs.

"What else can you do?"

Educational talk has officially teetered over into dirty talk, foreplay. Suppose that was bound to happen, all things considered.

You don't take Juyeon properly into your mouth again, instead allowing him to simply drag the wet mixture of spit and precum along your lips and chin in such a pornographic display that it has his eyes gazing down at you just that much more hooded and full of lust than you've ever seen before. It's intoxicating how he views you like this, and for a man that already teetered on the edge of unfathomable levels of sex appeal, you question whether it possible for anyone to look more seductive than he does now.

"Fuck you as long as you want, as hard as you want," Juyeon finally answers in just above a whisper, voice laden with desire. "Any time, any position. Anything you want, and the best part—" he questions, though you think to know where he's going with this already.

The anticipation of hearing the words pooling in your gut in what can only be described as unbridled arousal: the promise of unmatched sexual desire. No one will ever fuck you the way that Juyeon can fuck you, because it is quite literally impossible by human standards.

"—I never finish before you do."

Endless stamina, a cock that is always hard, capable of orgasm and continuing to serve you...precisely the kind of information that once upon a time, you were hoping to avoid ever learning.

And as if he can see the world spinning inside of your head with this newfound information, Juyeon leans forward in his seat to bring your arms into his hands — pulling you closer, he slots his lips against your own all over again even in spite of the mess. This time, however, the kiss is far needier, more hurried, laced with a wanting that you could have never guessed lied buried within him all this time.

Has it been, or is he simply meeting you where he must as per his programming?

Breaking the kiss, Juyeon only allows mere centimeters between your mouths before breathing the request into yours.

"Let me make you feel good."

Letting him take the lead, you melt into the touch of him pushing you up to your feet once more as his fingers go to work at front of your pants. Little time is wasted before the fabric is pooled at your ankles and you are urged to step out of it, when just as quickly, Juyeon takes your hips into his hands to pull you forward and settle atop him with a knee nestled into the cushions of your couch and on either side of his own.

Hovering over his lap, you feel the careful nudge of the tip of his cock as it settles firmly against your entrance but with no real insistence to enter you just yet. Instead, Juyeon's hands as well as his attention is turned upwards to your chest with soft palms grazing the skin and warm, wet lips wrapping around one of your nipples in just the perfect amount of pressure that has your head spinning.

Tongue digging firm circles into the sensitive bud, you almost miss the way one of his arms slithers around the small of your back as if to hold you snug in place against him, but just as quickly it becomes rather evidently all a part of his plan as you finally feel the intrusion of the wide, blunt head of his length prying you open from below and pulling your body down to sink onto him in full.

It's a slow, careful process — and for that you're thankful with no physical preparation done on your end. In ways, you prefer it that way — like this, it feels real, it feels raw. Sometimes sex simply happens without the bells and whistles and without the luxuries of time, or foreplay.

Sometimes, people just need to feel each other.

Teeth digging into your bottom lip to pull back the whine that threatens to escape you — feeling impossibly full of him like this as your hips settle flush in his lap — there's a passing moment where you worry of him being too big with the looming threat of him at the deepest ends of your insides, instead, Juyeon leverages his above-average strength to lift you off of him just at the precipice of too much before gently gliding you along his shaft all over again for friction that is just so fatally exquisite.

Getting a handle of your bearings and shifting your weight to take more of an active role, you roll your hips against his own as Juyeon shifts the grip his arm has on you to instead hook up at the top of your shoulder from behind — better to pull you down hard against him, fill you deeper with himself as you find a rhythm atop him that starts to suit you.

You can't hold back the whimpers, though you'd like to try, and looking down at Juyeon beneath you as you ride him, part of you wants nothing more than to ignore the explicit adoration that shines in his eyes as he watches you like this.

"Good?" he asks quietly, as if not wanting to interrupt when the answer is so obvious, anyway. You nod quickly, Juyeon pulls you down onto his cock harder as if in affirmation of your reply, and you moan out loudly for him as a result. "Want to watch you cum."

"Fuck," you gasp out, as if the mere request enough to get you there already. "I'm close, I'm close don't stop, don't—"

"Harder?" he asks you now, and all you can chant out is breathy 'yes'' in reply.

Juyeon shifts his position from beneath you just slightly, slinking down so to have better leverage of his feet against the floor and you immediately realize why when he meets your comparatively useless fall along his cock with a hard, full drive of himself up into you instead.

The force just about knocks the air out of your lungs, but more than that, the friction has you seeing God.

It takes little more of that — thighs trembling and abdomen clenching in orgasmic promise as you grit your teeth through the most euphoric release you think to have ever experienced in your life up until now. Juyeon's hips never falter, never slow — because why would they? Never at the whims of his own humanity or release, he can fuck you just as hard, just as fast, all of the way through your own orgasm and past the point where other men may lose themselves to the stimulation...

Not him.

Sounds of wet skin pressing hard and fast together ringing heavy in your ears — it's all you, that much you know — how drenched you are around his dick as he still continues to drive into you even after the peak of your orgasm falls off, it's only now that you realize that Juyeon will simply continue fucking you like this unless you ask him to stop — ask him to finish for himself.

Leaning down, you capture his mouth into yours all over again — a bit teethier and ill-coordinated than the previous times but much needed all the same, the man beneath you is happy to meet you in such intimacy, and like this, you whisper your own request against his dry, bitten up lips.

"You can cum, want you to cum."

Meeting the words with a throaty groan, Juyeon cocks his head to the side to kiss at you better before pulling away and speaking against your mouth once more. "Want to feel me fill you up?"

The grip his fingers have on your body stiffens then, one of your own carding through the damp, black strands that stick to his forehead as a result of the goings on now. Juyeon fucks up into you hard and fast again as if chasing an orgasm of his own and as the curve of his cock drags against your g-spot all over again, fingers curling into the hair at his scalp much harder than anticipated as he threatens to take you there all over again, your eyes clench shut at the familiar throb of him as he buries himself deep within your walls for one, last time and with a deep, almost pained groan through gritted tight teeth.

Clenching down around his cock like this you can feel him empty inside of you in waves — gentle pulses of his cum pumping heavy within you.

Then, silence. Nothing more than the quiet, rhythmic sounds of two people attempting to catch their breath in the aftermath of...who knows what, really.

Juyeon sleeps with you again that night, just as he had already done previously. The only difference this time being the way delicate, long fingers fish for yours beneath the sheets.

Four, loud knocks at your front door is not how you wish to be startled into consciousness.

More than that, the distinct sound of a familiar woman's voice sounding out through the otherwise empty halls.

Stomach leaping into your throat, this is bad. Really bad. For a plethora of reasons, but most of all because of what — and who — still resides next to you in a deep and seemingly much needed slumber.

Last night was a lot, for the both of you; your thighs are sore and frankly the remanence of stinging throb that is still harbored between your legs serves as just as much of a reminder as anything of the series of decisions that led you to this very moment.

But you don't have time to mull over the hows and whys, because you have to get up, get dressed, and present somewhat properly before your friend wanders into your bedroom and stumbles upon the aftermath of such a thing herself.

You intercept the situation well enough, however; robe slipped on over your form and sitting her down at the dining room table for a late breakfast — a surprise visit, great, though less sarcastically so under usual circumstances. She brings breakfast and you're at least thankful for that because you are starving after the appetite worked up under last night's activities and you question whether you have the strength in your legs even now to stand at the stove long enough to cook something up for yourself, much less for a guest, as well.

Juyeon is no where to be found still, even an hour after your awakening. For that, you are thankful, though you know it not to last forever. Your home is his home, and he has free roam of it as he should...especially now, especially with the way that things have unfolded between the two of you.

Whatever your relationship is with him now, it is forever changed in some way, shape, or form. Lines have been crossed and while you're certain of his ability to simply carry on as though nothing has ever happened should you ask it of him...

Can you?

Shoveling another slice of fluffy pancake into your mouth as she carries on about what it is that she has been up to since having moved away from the city that the two of you once shared, your mind remains clouded with not only the what of your plans to disclose, but beyond that, the mere fact that you simply must.

And the window to do so draws quickly to a close.

"I have to tell you something," you finally say. The words are quiet, already somewhat beaten down in anticipation for a less than thrilled response from the friend sitting just across the way. She's not particularly judgmental, no, but this? This?

It wasn't all that long ago that you sat on the same side of the moral fence on this particular quandary as her.

"What—" she begins, and while at first you believe her to be inquiring about your words, the direction in which her eyes gaze — fully beyond you and back towards the bedroom door gives away that you have run out of time, entirely.

Shit.

"—Is this?"

Eyes closing slowly in a bout of displeased defeat, you exhale heavily before turning around to inspect the scene: it couldn't be worse if you had tried to set it up as such, either — Juyeon standing just outside of the bedroom and fully in sight of the both of you, freshly washed and nude from the waist up...only a towel held closed by hand at his hip to keep anything shrouded from the eye, at all.

He exits just as quickly, fast on the pickup and most certainly not needed for this.

Turning back to view your friend, the scowl evident on her features — a question of what happened here, how did we get here written all over her, though you can't imagine she'll offer as much in a verbal sense.

"I'm going to ask you this one time," she states calmly, though the displeasure in her tone is beyond evident. You don't want her to ask, because you don't want to tell her the truth, but you will. "Are you...involved with your persocom?"

Silence so heavy you could hear a pin drop, and picking at the skin around your fingernails in nervousness, you pull a shaky inhale into your lungs before delivering precisely the answer that you know she does not want to hear.

"Yes."

"Really?" she bites back, equal parts disappointment and disgust that you can hear all too plainly. "You're having sex with the android that cleans your bathroom? You're got to be fucking kidding me."

"It's not like that," you hurriedly answer with a whine. It sort of is like that, but too much simplicity behind the words, too little nuance, there's so much more to the circumstances and the goings on and everything surrounding...everything, that to say it like that doesn't do it justice: it doesn't do the situation justice, and it most definitely doesn't do Juyeon justice, either. "It wasn't like that for a long time, it was never my intention. I tried— "

She scoffs, cutting you off from the thought. "You tried? Tried what? To not fuck him? How hard could it possibly have been? Surely you're not so lonely and pathetic that you have to resort to settling in for a life with a custom built, glorified sex toy for life."

Hearing someone speak about Juyeon like this does something inexplicable to you in a way that you couldn't have anticipated. Bubbling rage in your gut at referring to him as nothing more than perhaps, quite literally, what he truly is — still, you cannot bear it. Can't bear to hear it, and especially not with such contempt in ones voice.

He is more than that, you know that to be the truth. You live with him, you speak to him, you share a life with him.

Briefly, you think back to all of those people you read posts from early in the days of your meeting, the claims of nearly certain sentience in their persocoms. Hints of life. True life. True free will.

You can't prove it, but you suppose that much like so many other things, some beliefs reside wholly on faith.

It is your truth, and that's all that you need now.

"Do you have feelings for him or something?"

Without missing a beat, you answer her. "Yes."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, give me a break."

"You don't know what it's like, what he's like. Juyeon is so real, thoughtful and kind and full of life and love in a way you couldn't possibly ever understand unless you experience it for yourself. You know just as well that I used to feel the same way about the concept of such a thing, but now that I've lived it..."

"You cannot have feelings for your persocom."

"I care for him," you plead with a defeated shake of your head.

"It's not real, he isn't real," your friend insists, pushing herself back in the dining room chair with obvious intent to leave and hear no more of what goes on here any longer. "You're living in a fantasy land, and I don't want any part of it."

Grabbing her belongings, the woman that you once called your best friend exits your apartment in a flurry — you don't have time to offer any more explanation or understanding, not that you think it would quell the situation at hand, anyway, but the sinking feeling in your chest of not only loss, but guilt once again reminds you of all of the reasons that you may have been right the first time around. That maybe this is wrong, that you are wrong for allowing this to reach this point, at all.

Cleaning up the table full of plates of half eaten food that tell a story of a meeting gone horribly wrong, you consider doing the dishes here and now — and typically, you might, but the nagging feeling in your gut paired with the all too apparent absence of Juyeon calls you elsewhere in the quiet of the walls of your living space.

Knocking gently at the wooden door frame of your bedroom, the door is open, and in spite of it being the middle of the day, the flash of lightning oozing in through the rain drenched window on the opposite end causes it to feel equally gloomy in ambiance as the mood otherwise feels, anyway.

Along the way, Juyeon sits at the edge of the bed, as if in wait of you to come and find him like this. He is dressed now — a simple black t-shirt and loose, black sweatpants — oddly enough, it feels as though he is dressed in anticipation of somewhere to go.

Slowly walking inside, the rain pelts against the window so roughly that you're not sure Juyeon capable of hearing you should you wish to speak to him in a whisper, thus, you seat yourself at the edge of the best beside him with a palm lightly placed over one of his knees.

He heard everything, you know that well enough with the way that sound carries through your tiny living arrangements. Aside from that, you know him capable of feeling — beyond the projection of his sentience that you feel yourself so sure of, how much of his ability to feel even just at a base level; hardware, software, whatever it is that makes him the who and what that he is — Juyeon feels, and immensely so from the way that sadness wears so evidently on his features now.

You can't help but wonder if this isn't the first time he has lived through circumstances such as this. Memories wiped and primed for rebooting with a new person, a new life; all the while dressed and ready once again to take his leave, though why that urge settles within his bones so strongly, he himself can't even be sure.

"Should I go?"

The words, while anticipated, tug painfully at your heart. Lips down turning into a frown, you squeeze his knee beneath your grasp before leaning further against him and pressing your head to his shoulder in comforting embrace.

"No," you answer quietly. "I don't want you to leave."

Shifting slightly, Juyeon turns to face you more, wrapping long, strong arms around you in an embrace that you think to be something of a thank you for not abandoning him once more. Pulling from one another slowly, you reach up to cradle his face into the palms of your hands as you look deeply into his eyes: beautiful, and endlessly dark but glittering and so full of life, all the same — moments like these, like this, you're so certain of what lies beneath.

So much more than what you're told, so much more than what you had bargained for.

This time, you pull him into the kiss.

Rather than the trepidation of uncertainty, laced within these lips now is a sense of knowing, and allowing your hands to fall from his face to instead search for the bottom hem of his shirt, upon finding it, you feel the knowing grin of his lips twist against your own.

And with that, a tug of the fabric upward.

Juyeon slips his shirt off quickly, tossing it to the floor elsewhere along the room and you waste little more time shrugging off the robe that you earlier had no choice in putting on, anyway. Perhaps a wise choice as you're reminded of having worn nothing more under it, he's swift in maneuvering you in a way that suits him as he pulls up from the bed and instead pushes you back along it — following up the length of your body as his hips settle between your legs and lips once again slot against your own.

This time it feels different. Less curiosity, less learning. Now? Simply experiencing him.

Forearm pressed into the mattress beside your head, Juyeon's other hand feathers down the flesh of your torso towards precisely where you want him to be — delicate fingers ghosting over your skin in such a way that the tiny hairs raise in the wake of his touch, everything that Juyeon does is with intent to have you melting beneath him, and not only does it work, but it's far better than you could have ever imagined.

As his middle finger finds its mark between your legs, slipping between your slit and slowly rubbing circles into the sensitive nub of your clit, his lips slip down from yours to kiss along your jaw; down the column of your neck and settling just at the juncture between your shoulder, carefully sucking and nibbling marks into the supple flesh at his mercy.

Back arching into his touch, you want to feel him more and again. It hasn't even been that long since the last time, but with so much promise of what's to come, you find your body reacts in such a way that you barely capable of reigning it in. Every touch of Juyeon's is perfect, both in placement and pressure. Never too hard, nor too soft, always the precise, right amount.

Slipping a finger into you, you can't help but press your hips down and against his hand in a bid to feel more. Juyeon grins into the skin of your neck as you do, the feeling of his teeth that much more evident and bringing about even more of a pulse of your needy walls around the single digit buried inside of you.

"Juyeon," you finally say, though it comes out as much more of a pathetic, desperate whisper than ever intended. At the sound of it, he begins fucking into you slowly with the very same hand, simulating the precise thing that you both know you're about to ask of him now.

"Please," you whimper now, still grinding down against his hand. "Need more..."

Shifting his weight slightly, Juyeon brings his lips up to your ear before answering back in a whisper. "Want to feel full of me again?"

Arousal throbbing hard around his hand, you hear him huff out an amused laugh against your ear. "You know you can have any part of me that you want, all you have to do is ask."

Pulling up quickly and with no interest in losing more time, Juyeon slips his pants off and to the floor only to settle between your legs once again. This time, however, he sits knelt between your thighs as he brings the same hand back to continue prying you open for his cock, and as you look down to survey the scene, you find him lazily palming over himself as he watches himself work you open.

It's a bit more than you had been ready to take in the sight of, dizzyingly intoxicating and lewd with his lips ever so slightly parted in awe of you and the tight grip of his fist around his length pooling precum at the slit.

Slender and perfectly toned body sitting before you like this, perhaps you never stood a chance, after all.

Finally pleased with the work done, Juyeon slips his fingers from your wetness to instead hook around your thigh and press the underside to his chest — with your calf situated at his shoulder, he urges himself closer, angling his length down to press the wide and glistening tip of his cock at your entrance and with every intention of sinking into you just like this; fully splayed wide for his viewing pleasure.

Firm strokes between your folds, you moan out in need and frustration for him, which only brings an upward curl to his lips just that much more.

He's teasing you.

"Ju— ah —"

Protest quickly lost in your throat as you feel Juyeon begin his initial drive into you — carving out space for himself between your tight walls with slow, intense press of his hips forward — with your body open for him like this he feels even bigger inside of you. Fuller of him with less space inside to accommodate for his size, it feels so soon that surely he will be buried fully inside of you, but with a quick glance down through the tightly knit furrow of your eyebrows, you're quick to learn that the position offers far more than you had originally bargained for.

Humming, Juyeon tugs his bottom lip up between his teeth. It would appear that like the typical man, he's facing the mortal fear of desperately trying to fight back to urge to cum, but knowing better, you can only imagine that you feel fucking exquisite around his dick.

"Doing so good," he says after all, jaw nearly hung open as the last remaining signs of his length disappear inside of you. "So full. Pussy is so small, couldn't possibly take more."

Pussy throbbing around him as he says the words, Juyeon groans quietly with the first withdrawal before slowly pushing back inside of you all over again — slightly faster this time, and almost as if he anticipates you to break from under him.

Up until now, your mouth remains shut knowing well enough that should your lips part nothing more that desperate whimpers and whines will spill out, but needing more from him, you have little option presented to you.

"Juyeon," you say first, little more than a pained whisper falling from bitten red lips. Narrow, dark eyes fall to your own in anticipation of what it is that you're going to say, but likely nothing could have prepared him for the request being made of him, next.

"Break me, Juyeon. Make me yours."

Careful, gentle eyes turning nearly menacing, threatening at the words; Juyeon's grip into your thigh harshens suddenly followed by a quick, hard snap of his hips against your own — so rough that it has you shoving up the bed, it's following subsequently by more and more as he settles into a ravishing pace into you, delivering repeated, firm, drives of his cock against your walls and with the angle that he has now, the perfect curve of his length serving as the most immaculate deliverance of friction against your g-spot.

"You look so pretty wrapped around my dick," he manages out through hard fucks into you, eyes dancing their way between your own and the very place that he disappears inside of your needy body. With a firm enough grip of your leg in place and the strength to manage it, his other hand comes down to messily rub wet circles into your clit, and the touch has you crying out just that much more loudly for him, too. "Okay baby, why don't you cum for me? Lemmie make you mine and I'll give you just the reward you deserve."

And it doesn't take long to give him what he wants, either. Between the relentless fullness of his cock inside of you and the filthy words that drop from once seemingly innocent lips, your thighs shake in his grasp and walls tighten that much more around him with the threat of your release as it accompanying yell catches in the dryness of your throat — coil on the verge of snapping, you need something more from him, though you're unsure how to manage it out in time. Grasping desperately out and towards him, he picks up on it quickly — leaning down to meet you face to face as you hurriedly usher the broken words out from your body.

"Cum with me—"

Needing no more instruction, Juyeon settles back into place between your thighs continuing hard against you, and as the coil in your gut snaps with orgasmic release, you force your eyes open to watch the muscles in Juyeon's abdomen tighten just the same; jaw clenched firm and head thrown back momentarily just before his jaw falls slack and the deep, pained groan of release rips through him as he fucks his load fully into you as you cum around him and milk it thoroughly out of his body.

Slowing at the tail end of both of your orgasms, Juyeon's grip on your thigh softens, gently allowing your leg to fall from his shoulder, and while not pulling himself from the wetness of your cunt just yet, as you look up at the sight of him — fucked out and damp with the aftermath of sex that cannot possibly ever be beaten, as he carries on within you in slow, shallow strokes, you suppose that curiosity gets the best of you, yet again.

"Can you...cum again?"

He grins, as if with complete understanding of the filthy implications of such a question.

Gently lowering himself down again, bare chest to bare chest with you once more, Juyeon kisses along your neck once more, along your jaw and meeting at your mouth again. It's gentle, with barely there nips of his teeth at your bottom lip before he offers you an answer to the question.

"So, that's what you like," he whispers into your flesh, tone heavy with desire and the need to meet all of yours. "Make you mine, fill you with my cum over, and over, and over again..."

His hips begin to pick up pace again, firmly pressing the entirety of his still impossibly erect cock between your messy, soaked, walls. "Just want to be unthinkably full of me, don't you? Filthy thing, playing house all this time, wonder how long you've wanted me to make a complete mess of you."

You don't know, you sort of lost track, and you're not entirely interested in revisiting the timeline, either.

Pulling up and out of you abruptly, you're nearly discontented by it until you feel firm, strong hands pulling at your arms and twisting you to turn you over. Falling flat to your stomach, those very same hands gripping hard into your hips from behind and pulling you up to meet his own at just the right angle — you have little time to reconfigure yourself before you feel the blunt prod of his cock reentering you from behind this time...

And it is intoxicatingly electric the way his length pries you open like this.

Wasting little time, Juyeon fucks you hard and fast, slowing only to dip forward and grasp your arms into his hands — a makeshift contraption of you losing your range of motion as you're forced to merely balance on your face and chest with arms pulled harshly behind your back to grant him the leverage to fuck you full of himself just the way that you deserve.

Just the way that you want.

"So wet for me," Juyeon groans between thrusts, the prominent sounds of such evident with every hard meeting of his flesh against yours. "Won't let you lose a drop of my load, is that what you want?"

Barely able to speak, you manage out the most pathetic whimper of affirmation that you possibly can.

"Want to feel me cum inside of you?"

"Y-yes."

"You gotta cum around my dick again then," Juyeon insists, though it doesn't take much with the relentless fullness of him into you from behind, you're already nearly there by the time a hand slinks down between your legs to rub at your pussy all over again. A humiliating few seconds — though you have no concept of time now as it is — before you're crying out and throbbing around him just as requested, and with little more work, Juyeon answers you back with a loud, full groan as you feel his cock pulse and throb with release as he once again fucks you full of the warm, sticky wetness of his cum.

Slowly releasing your arms from his grasp and gently falling forward to lie beside you in the afterglow of all of this, once finished staring at the emptiness of the ceiling and contemplating whether or not there lies a specific place in hell for people just like you, you feel the familiar touch of Juyeon's delicate fingers as they find your own, slotting between and taking your hand firmly into his embrace.

"I think I'm in love with you."

As consciousness takes you once again the next morning, you're at least thankful for the fact that it's not the knocking and yelling of a friend that you no longer are acquainted with that awaits you — instead, Juyeon stands at the edge of the bed with coffee and breakfast made, though not on much of a silver platter on account of your not having one — it's a cutting board, but hey, it's the thought that counts.

Head sweetly cocked to the side, Juyeon looks down at you with fondness that once upon a time you may have shrugged off entirely as nothing more than a part of his programming. Now, with a new understanding not only of him, but perhaps of yourself and life as a whole, you find yourself far more willing to accept things as they are — whatever that is, and simply...in the moment.

Juyeon looks at you with unbridled love and adoration, because he does love you, and he does adore you. No matter the hows or the whys or the wheres that it may come from, this is the truth; this is your truth, and this is Juyeon's truth.

Now that love has slowed down, you're simply grateful for the ability to have caught up to it.

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask (⌒‿⌒) —this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

#juyeon smut #the boyz smut #tbz smut #juyeon x reader #juyeon x you #juyeon x y/n #juyeon scenarios #juyeon imagines #the boyz x reader #the boyz x you #the boyz x y/n #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagine #tbz x reader #tbz x you #tbz x y/n #tbz scenarious #tbz imagines

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 6 months

Text

The Hand That Feeds

Pairing: Ettore (High Life) x f!reader (physical attributes such as large breasts and alternative appearance described) Warnings: DEAD DOVE; DO NOT EAT. Mentions of child neglect, prostitution, substance abuse, death, murder. Dark and obsessive behaviour, attempted sexual assault, sub/dom dynamics, male masturbation, smut. Word count: ~3.7k

Summary: Ettore is used to having to take women by force - it's how he ended up on death row, and now a suicide mission in outer space. However, when a fellow crew member catches his eye and becomes the object of his twisted fantasies, he soon learns that the touch of a woman feels more satisfying when he's made to work for it. Based on this request.

Author's note: For @orcaunionleader. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Ettore screws his eyes shut. Strapped into the seat of the spaceship as it hurtles upwards, plunged suddenly into darkness when the lights fail, he feels trapped. It must have been twenty years, at least, since he has felt so vulnerable.

His earliest memory is sobbing as he is shut in the cupboard, the pitch blackness terrifying and too much to bear, but the sight of what he sees when he bursts out is so much worse.

The man on top of his mother, the noises they’re making, he feels strange, a combination of wanting to watch but also a churning in his tummy that makes him feel unwell. He retreats back into the dark, closing the door and hugs his knees to his chest until it all goes quiet again.

Ettore soon learns it is better to enter a room head first - if he is able to see exactly what is happening then he knows quickly whether it’s safe to come out, or whether he needs to retreat. Not placing his entire body in the way reduces the likelihood of being grabbed, hit, shouted at.

There’s a different man each time, and every time they leave there’s always money on the bedside table of the small studio flat, and his mother is asleep. It’s then that he crawls into bed beside her, cuddling into her warmth, tracing his fingers over the marks that litter her inner elbow creases.

He doesn’t recall his mother ever having hugged him, when she is still like this is the only time he is able to get close to her, and he wraps his arms around her until the rumbling in his stomach gets too much to bear. He is always hungry.

His bare feet crunch against spilled Rice Krispies on the dirty kitchenette floor. Sometimes there is bread to eat, if he picks around the mold, sometimes there isn’t. He sees through the window that there is a place across the road that his mother goes to every few days. She always comes back with glass bottles that clink against each other in the plastic bag, but sometimes there is bread, and less often there are Rice Krispies. He likes those, though he often spills them.

The hunger pangs in his stomach grow so bad he begins to cry. His mother no longer feels warm when he cuddles against her. He is not sure when she last woke up, why she won’t wake up now. Maybe she is just really tired.

He can see the place where she goes to get food from the window, it is not very far, perhaps she’ll wake up by the time he gets back, and so he wanders out of the flat, not closing the door behind him, and walks across the road.

Ettore’s eyes light up the moment he sees the familiar blue box of Rice Krispies, clutching it tightly in both hands. It’s only then that he looks up into the horrified face of the woman standing over him, unable to comprehend why she’s looking at him like that, as she takes in the sight of the malnourished, barefoot child before her, wearing only a t-shirt and a dirty nappy.

There are a flurry of adults around him after that, and he’s taken to live somewhere else. He never sees his mother again. He hears the phrase “non verbal” used a lot, and learns that someone of his age should be able to speak. He doesn’t know how to, and so slowly he is taught how to communicate with words.

Even when Ettore has mastered the power of speech, he prefers not to use it. He finds watching people is far better than talking to them. Most people tend to talk a lot even when they have nothing to say. He prefers the quiet.

There are lots of other children his age at the facility he’s placed in, but slowly they leave, one by one, when adults come to look around. He never leaves though, he supposes it has something to do with the way he has overheard the staff describe his eyes as “haunted” and how strange it is that he has no interest in playing. Grown ups don’t want to share their homes with children that aren’t happy. Ettore doesn’t feel he has much at all to be happy about, when he curls his lips into a smile it feels strange against his face.

As Ettore grows older, he learns of what actually happened to him. His mother had been a heroin addict, she had prostituted herself to fund her habit, and he had been a victim of her extreme neglect. She had died of an overdose and he had laid beside her body for days, until his own hunger had gotten the better of him and he’d wandered into the local corner shop in search of food. He feels nothing upon finding this out, if anything he yearns for the simpler time of huddling against the warmth of his mother as she’d slept off her fix. No one will touch him now, he craves physical contact but doesn’t know how to ask for it.

He’s placed into a foster home when he’s a teenager, though it is a placement that’s short lived. The woman has a daughter, she’s a similar age to Ettore and he longs for her touch. He knows all too well from the way that she squirms under the intensity of his gaze and leaves the room whenever they are alone together that the feeling is not reciprocated.

To Ettore it does not matter. He always waited until his mother was asleep before cuddling her, he reasons that he can simply do the same here. And he does just that; waiting until night falls and the house is quiet, he sneaks into her room, laying down upon the bed beside her.

He breathes in deeply, a delicate floral scent filling his nostrils as he runs the tip of his nose over the softness of her hair. His fingertips creep beneath her pyjama top, and he exhales a shaky breath at how silky smooth her skin feels to touch.

It’s then that she wakes up and lets out a loud scream, he topples from the bed, startled by her outburst and her mother rushes into the room. That is Ettore’s first and only foster care placement, another term is now used to describe him; “maladaptive”.

But he takes away a valuable lesson from the situation - if he wishes to touch a woman then he needs to ensure she stays asleep.

He watches couples with resentment, knowing that no woman will ever kiss or caress him with any semblance of love, not willingly anyway. Women don’t want men that are haunted and maladaptive, but that’s fine with Ettore. If it’s not freely given then he knows precisely how to take it.

Ettore preys upon those that are fumbling with their keys in the lock as they try to return home, women under the influence who spend just a little too long on their phones while trying to get a cab, and the ones that walk hurriedly towards their cars in empty, darkened parking garages.

He moves slowly, carefully, his body only moving in sync with where his head is looking once he’s certain of the target he’s selected. He is unhurried in his movements, and so he goes utterly undetected until it’s too late.

It starts as simply knocking them out and then using their bodies however he sees fit, but it rapidly escalates when he accidentally kills one of them, it happens twice more before he’s finally apprehended.

He doesn’t try to fight it, pleads guilty in court and is sent to prison. Even with good behaviour, his sentence is such that he’ll be elderly before he’s ever free. But any opportunity for eventual freedom is snuffed out when he gets into a scuffle with another prisoner.

Threats of solitary confinement hang heavily over him as he’s dragged away, and something inside of him snaps. He won’t go back to being locked away in the dark, he can’t. So he lashes out, and as he’s stomping upon the guard’s head he is reminded of the crunching of Rice Krispies beneath his feet from when he was a child.

The death penalty doesn’t exist within the United Kingdom’s judicial system, but he knows he’s being served a death sentence when he is given the news that he has been assigned to board a spaceship with other prisoners on a mission to extract alternative energy from a black hole. There is no coming back from that, he’s not foolish enough to believe otherwise, yet he readily accepts it. There is no other alternative for him, truthfully, there never has been.

When the lights eventually flicker back on and they are alerted they can unfasten their seatbelts, Ettore finally opens his eyes, looking at the prisoners that are seated around him. He’s surprised and intrigued to find there are women as well as men on board. He hasn’t encountered a woman since being sent to prison.

The scrubs they are given to wear are baggy and conceal much of their bodies, so to his disappointment he is unable to admire the feminine curves of the women on board - except one. She is shorter than he is, the remnants of a long since faded colour adorns the ends of her hair. Both her arms are full sleeved with tattoos. He wants to tear away her uniform and see what other artwork decorates her flesh. If he were a normal person, he’d strike up a conversation and ask, but Ettore is not one for words, so he simply stares, watching her every movement as a silent storm builds inside of him.

Though she is slenderly built, he can clearly see the way the baggy top half of her clothing curves over the ample swell of her breasts. His eyes linger there whenever he passes her in the corridor, picturing what it would be like to run his hands over them and squeeze their softness.

It’s these thoughts that are the cause of his every visit to The Box, the ship’s masturbatory aid. It’s used gratuitously by all crew mates, as sexual conduct between prisoners is prohibited on board, so he spills over his knuckles every chance he gets, imagining it’s inside of her. Would she claw at his shoulders and slap at him to get away, or simply lay still and take it?

Occasionally he deposits a sample into a plastic cup, taken away by Dibs, a supposed doctor on board who seems to be the main authority figure. She never fully explains what is to be done with his specimens, but once he has taken the reward he’s provided afterwards - usually a sedative - he cannot find it in himself to care.

He has heard whispers that she is conducting fertility experiments on the ship, attempting to artificially inseminate the female inmates. If that’s the case, he is thankful that his involvement is far less invasive than theirs must be, but ultimately it’s not his problem. He keeps to himself, ever watchful of those around him.

At least there is structure and routine; he goes to sleep and wakes up at the same time each day, participates in mandatory exercise regimes, eats regular meals and is assigned maintenance work duty.

Getting to know his own schedule means becoming familiar with other people’s, and that includes her’s. There is a sense of both excitement and comfort in knowing exactly where she is and exactly what she’s doing at all times.

The first time he encounters her coming out of the Box, he’s struck by how beautiful she is, pupils dilated, skin glowing with a light sheen of perspiration, her lips slightly parted as she attempts to calm her breathing. The heady aroma of her arousal lingers faintly as he goes in after her and he has never come harder in his life than he does on that day. He makes a point to go in after her every day after that.

If she were any other woman and these were any other circumstances, he’d have forced himself upon her by now, but they are in a confined space together and there’s no way for him to act upon his urges without there being almost immediate consequences for it. Every day it feels as though a coil inside of him is wound tighter, and every day he is left wondering if that will be the day when it finally snaps and he brings everything crashing down for both of them.

Despite his internalised conflict, she seems utterly unperplexed by him, which is confusing for Ettore. He is used to women regarding him with unease and disgust, so for her to be completely unphased by his presence is disarming. She is a criminal too though, he reasons, and for her to have been served what is effectively a death sentence she must have done something terrible. The thought makes her all the more alluring to him.

He is on cleaning duty today, tasked with scrubbing down the shower tiles. He enters the showers slowly, deliberately, unable to hear water running, so assumes that there’s no one in there.

But then he spots her, her hair wet and sticking to her bare shoulders, the tops of her breasts just about visible. She hasn’t seen him, yet. His eyes roam slowly over the greyscale body art that adorns her arms and thighs, wondering if there's more hidden beneath the towel that clings to her svelte figure.

Absent-mindedly his fingers move over the triangular motif that's tattooed on his right forearm; though the scar is no longer visible he still feels the indentations of teeth. If he closes his eyes he still remembers the way that girl had fought, biting into his flesh as he'd wrapped his arm around her throat. He can never recall their faces, but he remembers the marks they left upon him - each one now covered by the same tattoo - a target so that he never forgets - a slash of a broken bottle against his bicep, acrylic nails gouging into his neck. They're never quite strong enough, though they fight to the end. He wonders if her ink serves the purpose of covering or reminding, what sinister deeds have led her down a path of such finality. He intends to find out.

Her head snaps up to look at him and he sucks in a harsh breath as she makes eye contact with him. She doesn’t scream or shy away, simply returns his unblinking stare and his fingers flex at his sides, mouth running dry as he considers whether he’ll need to silence her or not.

“Like what you see?” She whispers, letting the towel fall slowly away.

Ettore remains unblinking, though he feels shaken to his core on the inside. He drinks in the sight of her bare flesh, her full rounded breasts, the dip of her waist, her curvaceous hips, feeling his cock twitch in his scrubs.

What the fuck is she playing at?

“Fuckin’ cock tease,” he spits out, before turning and walking away to the Box.

He reaches his peak embarrassingly quickly, brow furrowed and jaw slack as sweat rolls down his temples.

Once the feeling of euphoria has worn off it is replaced by anger and confusion. Had she been trying to get him into trouble? Did she actually want him? Was she making a mockery of him?

His mood darkens at the thought and as his mind races after lights out that night, unable to find sleep. He slips out of his bunk and walks slowly, silently, along the corridor towards her cell.

He can see the outline of her body beneath the covers, and is suddenly unsure of what he came here to do. Torn between wanting to lunge for her, grab her by the throat and make her pay for her earlier indiscretion, or simply slip beneath the covers beside her and allow his hands to roam freely, he stands and does nothing, watching her.

“Come inside, if you want,” she calls out quietly to him in the darkness, making him startle, “bunkmates are all sleeping.”

Ettore hesitates, remaining rooted to the spot, unable to believe that a woman is actually inviting him into her space, that she wants to be near him.

“You gonna pussy out again like you did earlier?” She questions playfully.

He feels embarrassment flush his cheeks and allows it to propel him forward, over the threshold, into her space. He won’t let a woman get the better of him.

She shuffles back against the wall, lifting the blanket and patting the space beside her.

He hasn’t laid beside a woman since the night he was kicked out of his foster placement for getting into bed with the host’s teenage daughter, the only other times before that were when he huddled beside his passed out mother.

Ettore swallows thickly, not wanting to show weakness and quickly slips in beside her.

She smells of the ship’s standard issue soap, yet somehow on her flesh it has an utterly different scent, it’s sweet and intoxicating and has him longing to bury his face in the crook of her neck. He inhales deeply, feeling himself grow hard from her proximity and the warmth of her soft skin against his bare torso.

Apparently she feels it too, as she eagerly snakes a hand between them, palming at him through his shorts.

A woman has never touched him like that before, not willingly. Usually he’s the one in control. It feels too much, too fast, bile rises in his throat and he jerks away from her, stalking silently back to his own cell, shame blooming hot and heavy in his chest as he feels tears burn beneath his eyelids.

What the fuck was that?

For the first time in Ettore’s life a woman had wanted to touch him, and he’d freaked out and run away. Does she not realise what he could do to her, what he’s capable of? He is supposed to inspire fear, not lust.

He wants to storm back to her cell and smash her head against the wall. She’s made him feel weak, inferior, yet despite that he can’t shake the feeling of her hand between his legs.

Unable to help himself, he waits for her as she exits the Box the next day, the telltale signs of her having just climaxed etched all over her features as she steps out. Her expression hardens when she sees him, rolling her eyes and side stepping him, until he grabs her wrist, stopping her from going anywhere.

“Let go of me, Ettore,” she says threateningly.

“How d’you know my name?” He asks, pulling her close so he can stare down into her eyes.

She smirks. “You’re not the only one that can skulk around the ship finding things out. Dibs left your file out the last time she had me up on the table, so I snooped. I know your name, your blood type, your sperm count–”

“Do you know what I’m serving time for?” He narrows his eyes as he asks this.

“No, I figure if we’re gonna explore whatever this is,” she gestures between them, “it’s better we don’t know that about each other.”

Ettore scoffs, quirking his lips as he eyes her carefully. “And what is this?”

She shrugs. “I dunno. Clearly you’re not comfortable letting me touch you…yet. So how about you touch me instead?”

He keeps a neutral expression, despite the surprise he feels once again that a woman would willingly let him touch her. “How would that work?”

“You’re about to use the Box, right? Take me in. Touch me while you touch yourself.”

Her words send an aching pulse straight to his balls and he nods, walking into the Box, not checking to see if she’s following. He knows she will be.

“Take it off, take it all off,” he orders quietly, gesturing to her clothes.

She pulls off her top and slips off her bottoms and his gaze rakes appreciatively over her form, only this time his hand slides into his trousers as he does so, his hand wrapping around his steadily hardening length.

Her lips are parted, eyes wide as she stares up at him, her breathing almost matching the intensity of his. Tentatively he leans down, inhaling her scent. The sweetness fills his nostrils and something inside of him snaps.

Pulling his erection free, he moves his fist over it in quick, aggressive strokes, biting at her pulsepoint, before moving his lips downwards towards her tits, pressing his face into their soft warmth, mouthing at them without restraint.

True to her word, she doesn’t touch him, keeping her hands balled into tight fists at her sides, though he can tell she is desperate to reach for him, her breaths erratic as she arches into his touch.

His stomach muscles contract, pressure building at the base of his spine as droplets of pre-cum help to guide his rapid, successive jerks of his cock.

Reaching between her legs, he groans at feeling how wet she is, a combination of her previous orgasm and how aroused she is from what’s currently happening between them.

He buries his face in her chest, sinking two fingers inside of her. There is no scratching, no slapping, no disassociating. She is soft and pliant against him, willing, and as often as he has fantasised about taking her by force, this feels better than anything he has ever experienced previously, better than anything he could have imagined.

As the pressure reaches its apex and he finally climaxes with a groan and a shudder, releasing white hot ropes of his seed across her lower belly, she reaches up with shaky, tentative hands to gently run her fingers through his hair.

“Good boy,” she coos, “did so well for me.”

He sighs, leaning over her, resting his head against the wall behind her. Next time he wants to sink inside of her, to feel what it’s like to be touched, wanted, needed. Because as haunted and maladapted as he is, as he opens his eyes and stares into hers he sees that she is too. Her darkness plays well with his, and in a cold and sterile environment Ettore has finally found the warmth he’s always craved.

#ettore x reader #ettore #ettore x you #ettore x y/n #ettore smut #ettore imagine #ettore high life #ewan mitchell #ettore fan fiction #ettore fanfiction #ettore fan fic #ettore fanfic #high life #high life fan fiction #high life fanfiction #high life fanfic #high life fan fic

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lightlyblooming · 8 months

Text

Caving In

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Summary: Natasha visits Reader's apartment and she gives in.

Words: 956

You wished that you had never opened the door.

Natasha stood on the other side of the threshold, highlighted by the yellow glow of the sparse lights that dotted the hallway. Her red hair rested on her shoulders, not a single strand out of place. Her green eyes were clear and bright.

“So?” Natasha prompted, holding up the plastic bag in her hand. The smell of delicious fried food filled the air. “Are you going to let me in?”

You wanted to say no. You wanted to slam the door in her face. She was a page in your life that you wanted to rip out and throw away. Her hair, her eyes, her body, those lips. They were part of a life that you no longer lived, that you never wanted to revisit.

And yet, you found yourself stepping aside.

She entered your apartment and went straight into the kitchen, her deep and rich perfume washing over you as she passed. You sucked on your teeth, reigned in a sigh, then closed the door.

She knew exactly what she was doing. That scent, the warm presence of it, permeated the wall that you had spent the last few months trying to build. It elicited memories of humid evenings huddled in a rundown barn on the side of a rural road, long nights tangled in the silk sheets of a 5-star hotel, hours crouched on the top of a roof in the pouring rain, long evenings of sitting in the dark stitching up deep painful wounds.

You followed Natasha into the dimly-lit kitchen. She pulled two plates out of one of the cupboards then opened a drawer and rummaged through the cutlery you’d thrown into it. She gathered a knife and two forks.

You hadn’t bothered organizing your kitchen. It was the only part of the apartment you hadn’t renovated yet, though it definitely needed it. You doubted it had been touched since the 1960’s. It had pale blue paint that occasionally flaked into your food or drinks and the most horrendous red tile countertops that were so cracked you could hardly tell where one tile ended and another began.

Natasha was wholly unbothered by it. You didn’t think she would be, considering the state of the places you and her had stayed in, but it still came as a slight shock. She suited a Central Park penthouse better than this.

“I heard you were in Paris,” Natasha said as she transferred the food from the containers onto plates.

You crossed your arms and shrugged. “And?”

“You hate Paris.”

“It’s better than Manhattan.”

Natasha hummed and grabbed the plates. She made her way into the living room and sat on the couch, setting the plates onto the coffee table. “Why did you come back so soon?”

You didn’t bother answering; Natasha already knew the answer. The Avengers only let you drift so far and for so long. They wanted you close in case the sky split open again. At least, that’s what they said. You were certain that Natasha had meddled in that agreement more than she admitted. She was, after all, the one that had convinced Tony Stark that you weren’t a threat to America despite very much being one. She had even managed to have him to give you an apartment and a very healthy allowance on top of it.

“Why are you here?” you asked as Natasha started to eat the fries from her plate.

She had her eyes pinned to you as she ate. You steeled yourself and stared right back.

You knew you would give in. You always did. You always let her in, you always gave way to her desires. If she invited you to a hotel or out to drinks at a dive bar, it would only be a matter of time before you caved and agreed, no matter how hard you fought against it.

You didn’t even know why you tried to resist anymore. At first it was a way to separate your past life from this one, then it was punishment for all you had done. You had caused so much pain, so much suffering. You had dedicated your life to repenting for all you had done. You did whatever the Avengers asked of you, volunteered at soup kitchens, donated what extra money you had.

Now, you had settled into a life sequestered away in your apartment, renovating the same rooms over and over again. When you weren’t stuck painting or decorating or polishing your floors, you were in high-end boutiques and designer stores, spending that very generous allowance on fine clothes and handbags.

Yet not even a fifty-thousand-dollar Hermès bag could ease your pain. Not in the way Natasha did.

Natasha finished her mouthful and patted the couch beside her. “Eat before your food gets cold.”

You opened your mouth, ready to find an excuse, and then she smiled. Her warm, radiant smile. The smile that washed away your worries again and again. The smile that reminded you that the world wasn’t all sharp edges and cold blades. The smile that filled your empty chest with passion.

You let out a breath and allowed your arms to fall to your side. You took in a deep breath, steadied yourself, then settled onto the couch.

“I thought you were supposed to be in Denver,” you said and picked up your plate.

“I leave in the morning,” Natasha said. “I wanted to see you before I left.”

You couldn’t help the smile that sprouted on your lips. You hid it by taking a bite of food, but that did nothing to hide the blush that crept along your cheeks when Natasha placed her hand on your thigh.

#natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #natasha romanoff #avengers #avengers fanfiction #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha x reader #avengers x reader #avengers fic #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff fanfic

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eliibang · 1 year

Note

Request -

Hyunjin getting motion sick while on a road trip with

y/n and the boys and she takes care of him. I want it super fluffy & cutesy cus I’m in the car right now reading and it’s on my mind 🙁🤍

➵ 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐁𝐎𝐘

PAIRING. reader x hwang hyunjin [+stray kids]

TAGS. @eunwhore , @sunboki , @spookysins , @lethallyprotected , @dipjria / comment or dm if you want to be in my tag list !

it’s been a long time since your best friend and his friends had holidays. they worked so hard for the past few months, they deserved a break, a real break. you’ve always been close to minho, your best friend, you spent years being neighbors and it was just an evidence that you’ll forever be friends.

when he introduced you to his friends, you fastly became part of their team, it was just like that. chris was like a dad for them and now, you were considered as their mom. it was funny tho, you got to see another part of minho and you find it cute. but, for you, the cutest was hyunjin.

oh you had no problem to admit it. at first, you were amazed by his beauty like, how can a man look sooo pretty ?? you were shocked, but you knew he was more than that, more than just a pretty face. the kids, as you call them, call him genius and they’re totally right about that.

he can sing, he can dance, he can rap, he can draw, he can cook, he can paint… he is just perfect to your eyes. but that’s all he is. he is not perfect for you, you just find him perfect. he made it clear that he doesn’t want a relationship, and he doesn’t know you know.

how do you know ? you heard him and the boys talking about this in the backyard when you entered their house. they were waiting for you, chatting while drinking soft drinks, and you heard them from the living room. you never knew how the conversation started, and they never knew you were aware of this. but at least, the good thing is that it helped you moved on quickly from the ideas you were making in your mind.

it’s kinda sad, isn’t it ? but it’s more sad when you have to take care of them daily, to take care of him. especially when he is sick.

oh boy must’ve eat something bad cause he is never sick in the car but today, he chooses to be. his face was pale and you were far away from your destination. you went to some cities to explore them, and you were heading to your next destination but as soon as you entered the car, he didn’t felt well. and you got to take care of him cause you were sitting next to each other in the back of the car.

“hyunjin, do you want some water ?” he nodded, his throat too dry to speak. you took a bottle of water from the plastic bag, opened it and gave it to the blondie boy. he took a few sip before giving it back to you.

“i think we should stop the car, he isn’t feeling well.” chris was driving the car, felix by his side and minho by yours. jisung, seungmin, jeongin and changbin were in the other, driving behind you.

chris pushed the button for the warnings and drove on the side to park the car, jisung following him. they all immediately got out of the car, coming to yours as minho opened the door to get out. you stayed inside, putting a towel on his head, that you soaked in water beforehand.

they were all outside, talking about why they parked on the side of the road, getting worried for hyunjin’s condition. “are you okay, hyune?” you asked carefully, but he didn’t answered. “do you want to eat something or drink ?” he shooked his head to give you an answer.

“should we go back home ?” changbin asked and they all started to think about it. “i don’t think so, the road is long it will be harder for him to go back home.” you stated. “i think we should continue and see if we find a hotel or something like that so he can rest a little.”

they all approved and you got back into the car, taking hyunjin’s hand in yours. “we’ll try to find something where we can rest.” you told him and he pressed your hand gently. “thank you” he whispered.

you pulled out the towel to place your hand on his head, trying to feel the temperature, but he looks fine. you still put back the soaked towel in place before leaving the car carefully. “he doesn’t feel well, but he doesn’t talk so i don’t really know what wrong…” you said, worry.

“does he has fever ?” chris asked. “no, i don’t think so. not now, at least.” you pressed yours lips together, looking at the boys one by one. they were all worrying for their friend, their brother. “we should go back home.” changbin said but you disagree. “the road back home will be too long for him, it will get worse. i think we should continue to find an hotel or something.”

you found an hotel quickly, which was a relief. hyunjin fell asleep so you stayed with him in the car, waiting for the others to come back.

…

“we only got two rooms for three persons, and there is two rooms for two.” attested jinsung. they started to fight about who’s going to sleep together. “y/n ?” minho turns to you. “mh ?” you got out of your thoughts. “chris is going with felix and seungmin, jisung is going with changbin and jeongin. do you want to sleep alone so i’ll stay with hyunjin ?” you looked at him and then turned to hyunjin. “i think i’ll stay with him, he needs to be taken care of. you guys can go out and do things, it’s your holidays.” “no, we’re not going anywhere without you.” jeongin said and you smiled. “it’s okay guys, go have fun and anything, i’ll stay with him.”

they stayed for a moment, like idiots, standing in front of your door, but they finally left to the grocery store. you waited for hyunjin to wake up, about 15 minutes later, and you walked him to your room. “it looks fine.” you looked around you, the room was clean and smelled good.

he grinned a little, almost falling on the bed. you took off his shoes and his jacket, helping him to go under the blanket. you took another towel, soaked it in water again and put it back on his forehead. he looked up at you with tired eyes and tapped three times on the bed next to him. “c’me here.” he ordered in a soft voice.

you do as he said, sitting next to him. he rolled on his left, placing his head on your thighs, wrapping your legs with arms. you didn’t moved for what looks like eternity, not used to being this close to him. you finally played with his hair, as he fell asleep again.

an hour passed and the boys came back, they knocked at the door and you got out of the bed to open it. “is he okay ?” chris asked immediately before entering first. you nodded, he didn’t throw up or anything, he just looked really tired. “it must be the after effect of work, you guys really worked hard, his body must need some rest. i bet you all need rest.”

they all found their way on the ground to sit down, placing in the middle all the bags with food and drinks. “y/n” hyunjin called you and you went back to his side, going back to the previous position you were in.

the boys looked at you in disbelief, wondering why you guys were that close but you didn’t mind. all you could think about is that hwang hyunjin was sleeping in your arms.

he tried to adjust himself at some point, pulling you closer to him. “you’re such a good friend, y/n.” he said in a murmur, and your heart broke. you swallowed, your throat got dry in a second, trying to fight back the tears from rolling down your face. “the boys brought you some food.” was all you could say.

i’m so sorry for the late reply, i don’t have notifications on and i’ve lost inspiration so i didn’t came on tumblr for a while. thank you for your request tho, i hope you like it !! it inspired me, but i’m sorry for the sad end ahah. (you still can pretend it didn’t happened and that he confessed tho, as you want !!)

#stray kids #bang chan #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #lee felix #han jisung #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #skz #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #skz imagines

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dailyunsolvedmysteries-movedd · 7 months

Text

The Box Lady of Benton

It was October 8th, 1976 and Norman Skoog had spent the day harvesting his “back 40,” acres of corn along Benton County Road 200 South. Around 5pm, while harvesting in a remote spot about a mile-and-a-half from the Skoog home, he made a bizarre discovery. A white cardboard box wrapped in tape and rope sat on the ground roughly nine rows deep in the field, approximately 15 yards off of the gravel road. Norman had nearly ran over the box with his combine. When he got out to investigate the box, he realized it was far too heavy for him to lift alone. He left on his combine to get his father-in-law and his pickup. Together, they loaded the box into the bed of the truck and drove it to the Skoog home.

Curtis Skoog, 16, was first to notice the pungent odor of cheap perfume coming from within the box. Using a pocket knife, he sliced open a section of the box to find a broken vial of perfume lying atop something wrapped in layers of plastic. Concerned what may be inside, Norman phoned police. He told Curtis to return the vial to the box and wait for the Sheriff to arrive.

Sheriff Donal Steely arrived at the Skoog home a short time later to inspect the suspicious package. As he began to cut into the thick sheets of heavy plastic and rope, a new foul smell wafted out of the box. Steely decided he should contact the State Police before proceeding any further. Indiana State Police arrived and opened the box. Beneath the layers of plastic sheeting and rope, they discovered the body of a woman. The body was taken to the local coroners office, and later an autopsy was preformed in Lafayette, Indiana.

It was concluded that the woman’s cause of death was from a small calibre single gunshot wound at the base of her neck fired at close range. The bullet was never recovered. Her death was estimated to have occurred 7-10 days before being found, but it was noted that very little decomposition had occurred.

She was found in the fetal position with her knees pressed firmly against her chest. Her body was bound with rope and her hands were tied under her knees. Her head and face were wrapped in white paper towelling, and two small plastic bags had been tied over her head. Her body had been wrapped in several layers of thick plastic, similar to those used as runners to protect carpet. White clothesline style rope and heavy duty duct tape had been used to tie the plastic around the body and was so tightly bound, it had distorted and bruised the woman’s face.

The woman was white, approximately 5 feet 2 inches tall, weighed around 175 pounds, and was estimated to be around 60 years of age. The woman wore a green 2-piece pants suit that was covered in blood, but otherwise clean. She wore no makeup, shoes, pantyhose, or jewelry and had no identification. She had a few distinguishing facial features, including a large “bump” on the bridge of her nose and “abnormally large ears.”

It was evident the woman had undergone several surgeries. She had undergone a radical mastectomy, and bore a vertical surgical scar on her mid-section which extended from her sternum to her stomach. She had also undergone extensive dental work, though she was in need of more.

Her makeshift “coffin” was a white cardboard box measuring 3-by-2-by-1-foot. The box was a typical moving box, stamped with a factory label reading “wardrobe.” Another part of the box bore a handwritten notation reading “hall closet.” It was learned that the box had been manufactured in Illinois. Inside of the box, the small vial of perfume was found, however it had no label. The box itself had been sealed with tape and the same rope that was used to bind the woman. Investigators believe the box had been left at the location the same day it was found. Heavy rains had blanketed the area the previous day into the early morning hours and the box showed no signs of moisture damage.

Police attempted to use fingerprints to identify the unknown woman, however they never found a match. This led them to the conclusion she had never been arrested, or held a civil service job. A sketch of the woman was released to the public in the hopes of identifying her, however no one came forward to claim her body. Eventually, she was buried in an unmarked grave in Fowler Cemetery.

The investigation continued and several people came forward from states as far away as Alabama believing the unknown woman may be their missing loved one. Unfortunately she was not a match to any of them.

Multiple theories existed, from everything to a “mob-hit,” to a wrong place wrong time scenario. However the most bizarre, and seemingly most accepted theory, is that the box was dropped from a helicopter.

While the area the box was found is extremely rural, it is also a tight knit community of farmers who are outside from sun up to sun down. According to them, they would have noticed someone driving along the gravel road that morning, and while they didn’t spot any suspicious cars, they did see a helicopter fly over the field early that morning. According to three separate witness statements, the helicopter approached from the northeast, swung to the southwest, and hovered near the ground for a few seconds where the box was found.

A second piece of evidence supporting the helicopter theory is that when police searched the area where the box was found, they discovered an irregular circle of exposed black dirt around the dumping site. During harvest, corn stalks litter the ground covering the soil. The powerful updraft created by a helicopter could cause the stalks to scatter leaving the ground exposed and leaving a circular “imprint” like the one discovered at the scene.

#unsolved #unsolved mysteries #crime #cold cases #creepy

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starlessea · 1 year

Text

Let's have a vote

Hey guys! As mentioned, here are some wips I found. Let me know which you'd like to see finished and I can start working on it.

1. Borrowed Time (one shot)

"In a world where every day is a race against death, Daryl meets someone who’s happy to stop running."

Daryl Dixon knew you weren’t going to last long.

He didn’t want to think that way, but he just couldn’t help it. From the moment he set eyes on you, cooped up in the Alexandria infirmary — and hooked to that heavy, metal gas tank which wheeled after you like a wobbly shopping trolley — he thought the world was cruel for even keeping you alive this long.

2. Step on the Gas - Chapter 4

Packing was difficult when you owned nothing but your name.

Whilst the others around you stuffed suitcases into their cars and fumbled with their tents as they tried to collapse them, you held onto a sole plastic bag containing two of Daryl’s shirts — and a glock tucked into your jeans.

You hoped there’d be supplies at the CDC, because there was only so long you could wear the same socks, or continue to share a sleeping bag with the man you hurt so deeply.

Though, since his earlier confession, a lot of weight had been lifted from your shoulders. No longer did they feel stiff with tension — save the formerly dislocated one — and no longer were you scared of treading on Dixon’s toes when your paths crossed. It didn’t feel as though bridges were being burned, rather built. For now at least.

Yet, a heavy atmosphere still hung over the camp. Occasional side-eye glances were thrown at Jim — some filled with pity, others with fear. Freshly dug graves still lingered on everyone’s fingertips, dirty with soil and regret. And Andrea’s face had yet to dry, her blue eyes always tepid and weepy.

But all anyone could do in the meantime was pack away their feelings along with their tents.

You’d exchanged some condolences with Jim earlier, but they sounded insincere since you hadn’t known the man for more than five minutes. He seemed like a good one though — and those were hard to come by. It was a shame.

“Got your head in those clouds again?” a voice asked, and you startled as a hand hovered over your back.

3. (NEW MINI SERIES) Don't Fear the Reaper - Prelude

It was half-light — that time of day that wasn’t really day, but too timid yet to become night. It was shadowy but those shadows were warm; it was humid but there was no rain. It was a time of in-betweens, perhaps, merely a prelude for what would pass. The sky bore hues of lilac and burnt orange, like a new bruise forming over pale flesh

And beneath that sky staggered fleshy figures covered in those very bruises. The undead.

They groaned under that sky, as rumbles of thunder awaiting a lightning strike, and bobbed along the concrete like a decaying sea. But they were unnatural. Strange marionette creatures kept alive by cruel fate, made to act even crueller. If this was nature taking her course, you thought, then she was perverted — and far too bored.

A pair of feet shuffled along a worn out road; one was missing a boot, toes bloody, with a calloused heel. The other leg bent awkwardly, like an abused wire hanger — misshapen but still recognisable. This figure had its head hung down, hair before its face in a knotted spider’s web, but low gurgles escaped it nevertheless. They sounded as water did when it came to a boil, but this time it bubbled a choked mix of saliva and blood.

Grotesque, you thought, and spat at the roadside.

No onlooker would think twice about pulling a weapon. No sane person would hesitate to put it out of its misery. Just like every other undead asshole creeping along this stretch of highway, it was nothing but a stubborn tumbleweed trying to catch a bite.

Except it wasn’t. This one was alive — just barely.

“F-fuck”, you spluttered, but every letter stuck to your tongue.

The pebbles beneath your feet were jagged, slicing at the tender skin, but that was merely a tickle when compared to the thorn in your side. The wound had bled through your shirt, trickled down your pants, and had even made your toes the colour of rust. But there was no point tending to it. A bite was a bite.

4. (UNTITLED WITCHER FANFIC) Chapter 1 - Beware the Blackwater

The Yaruga river lined the southern border of Brugge, seeping into the earth and making it swell into marshlands. The air tasted faintly of salt there, and of smoky saltwater bass being charred over open fires. And in Dillingen too, a fortress stood tall. It was erected close to that river, and it was a wonder how it hadn’t sunk to the depths of the blackwater estuary already. Though, they say that water is the best defence, and perhaps that was why Brugge hadn’t yet fallen. But that was only a matter of time.

When travellers speak of Brugge and Dillingen their stories often find their way to this stone fortress and all of the battles it had hosted. They tell tales of sieges and of arrows raining fire down upon it only to be quelled and snuffed by the damp marsh. Yet, there is scarcely ever a word spared about the village even further down than that - so far south that it had one foot in the blackwater and the other on a fishing pier.

Goddin was an angler village, so small and irrelevant that it couldn’t be traced back to any map. It’s residents were sailors and fishers, their wives and daughters. It was no more, no less. It was a peaceful village overlooked by war and strife - out of pity more than anything - and sustained itself on the very thing keeping it from the mainland, the blackwaters and the fish that lurked there. Rarely was there ever so much as a tavern brawl to rock the boat (since there was only one, and its barmaid was sterner than the most fierce storm) and never had Goddin become a place of interest before now. Yet, on this day, amid the warmest time of the year where the flowers bloomed and the salty air tasted a little sweeter, a witcher stepped foot onto Goddin’s piers.

Geralt hadn’t been paid a lot for this job - less coin than he’d care to admit, really. But a fisherman had travelled all the way to Northern Brugge just to hand him that satchel of gold, scraped together by villagers living in fear. He could smell it. So, after the week’s journey, give or take a few days, Geralt of Rivia arrived at the blackwater shores of Goddin, at what seemed like the edge of the earth - at world’s end.

“Ain’t got no inns ‘ere,” sniffed the angler, wiping his nose on the ratty fabric of his sleeve. “But me an’ the wife will host the both of ya’s.”

Geralt grunted, having almost forgotten the presence beside him.

“Well isn’t that kind,” quipped Jaskier, jabbing the witcher with his boney elbow. “Right, Geralt?” he prompted. But the other man remained silent.

The witcher wasn’t sure how he’d happened upon the bard yet again - like a leeching parasite he just couldn’t bring himself to cut the head off. Perhaps he liked his songs, he thought, but shook his head immediately after. That couldn’t be it.

The angler, growing nervous from the bounty hunter’s demeanour, let out a strained laugh. “Free ‘a charge, of course,” he continued, and Geralt’s ears pricked up. “Least we can do.”

...

There are more, but I'll keep it to this for now. Hope you enjoyed the snippets. Let me know which one you want to see more of.

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 months

Text

Bound, Epilogue

Previous part

Marinette and Tim had been having an average day. A slow, quiet day, if you will. It was the middle of summer, and therefore the bakery was getting less customers than usual – no one wants a hot meal when they’re already being roasted alive by the sun. They had decided to close up shop an hour early, since no one was coming in anyway, and spend a little extra time resting before they went to bed at the completely normal and average time of 5pm.

Alas, they had one more job before they could officially turn the sign in front of the door from Open to Closed: delivering a birthday cake.

How dare that child be born seven years ago. How rude of them. Didn’t they know Marinette and Tim wanted to sleep?

But fine, whatever, they supposed they could do their job.

Frankly, it wasn’t that big of a deal. The house they were taking it to wasn’t even that far away. Neither of them would have minded it at all… if it were not for the walk back.

It had started drizzling. Honestly, they had thought it was a godsend on such a horrible day, but perhaps it had been a literal godsend. A sign.

“So, what’s for dinner?” Tim asked, looping his arm around her shoulders lazily, dragging her into his side so he could hold the delivery bag over their heads like a makeshift umbrella. If they tracked too much rainwater into the bakery, they’d have to clean it up, and they did not want to bother with that.

“I was thinking we should just buy some ice cream and not tell my parents.” Marinette sent him a teasing grin. “You know, one day you’re going to have to learn how to cook.”

“You don’t want that,” he said, his nose wrinkling.

“Mmmmmaybe not. You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

Tim rolled his eyes at her. “No, I’m lucky your parents took one look at me and said ‘I do not care whether you two get married or I have to adopt him myself, that is now my son’.”

“Yeah! Because you’re pretty.”

He snickered. “That is definitely not why.”

“True, I guess.”

He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. If she was agreeing this easily, then she definitely had another idea lined up. And, lo and behold, her eyes were gleaming with mirth.

“It’s because you’re a wet cat of a man.”

“Well, aren’t I lucky you’re a cat person, then,” he said, grinning cheekily.

Clearly, she had not been expecting that one, because her face gained a red tint and she snatched the delivery bag out of his hands to use as a fearsome weapon. Tim only laughed as she swatted him with the plastic bag. In his eyes, it was still worth it.

They were snapped out of their own little world thanks to the screeching of tires.

Their heads snapped to a nearby intersection.

The rain, though relatively light, had been enough to make the roads more slippery than expected, and a car had skidded far too close to hitting an old man. Thankfully, some blond guy had reacted in time to get him out of the way.

Tim and Marinette had, as nosy people often do, tried to get a good look at what was going on as they passed. Nothing interesting, really. The younger of the two was worrying over the man’s health, which seemed fine other than slightly scraped up knees and hands, certainly better than it could have been. The old man was assuring him he was fine and trying to collect all of the things that had fallen out of the blond’s bag when he had half-tackled him out of the way.

It was because Marinette’s head was turned towards the pair that Tim almost missed the horrified expression that stole across her face.

“Fucking – you!” she said, pointing at the old man.

The old man didn’t seem all that abnormal to look at. Stringy, gray and white hair and beard. A myriad of smile lines and age spots. His cane looked as if it had been fashioned out of an actual stick, probably custom-made, which was not surprising considering his height. The most interesting thing about him was the Hawaiian tee, which was remarkably loud.

But the old man seemed to recognize Marinette, too. He didn’t look confused at having been called out, he looked wary.

Marinette tugged the bag out of the old man’s hands and started sifting through it, her expression… well, Tim hadn’t seen that kind of existential terror since they had cut their String. He couldn’t say he had missed seeing it on her face.

“Mari?” he asked, resting a hand on her shoulder gently.

She didn’t even seem to notice. She pulled out a small, black box with a strange red design. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Do you recognize this?” she asked the blond.

Said blond had gone remarkably pale. He shook his head slowly, and Tim thought, vaguely, that he looked kind of unsure.

Marinette didn’t seem to notice. She scowled and shoved the box into the old man’s hands.

His hands closed around it quickly – not in the way people instinctively took things you pushed into their chest, but instead as if he had been expecting to take it back.

“What – what is that?” the blond asked.

Marinette hesitated here, her gaze darting up to meet his. And then she blinked. “Holy shit, aren’t you that guy from the perfume ads?”

The blond blushed and tugged his baseball cap lower over his face, a blush creeping up his neck.

A flicker of movement out of the corner of Tim’s eyes drew his attention away from the pair, and instead to the atrociously bright red of a Hawaiian shirt turning the corner. He hissed a curse and took up the chase.

The old man was surprisingly fast, for someone supposedly in need of a cane. Tim wasn’t a vigilante anymore, but he was by no means out of shape, and yet his feet pounded against the pavement, his eyes constantly flicking around in search of the flashes of too-bright red, always just barely catching sight of it in time to watch it turn a corner.

And then he saw the man disappear into an alleyway. One which, unless Tim remembered wrong, was a dead end.

He wasn’t wrong.

He swung around a pipe to get inside faster, and found the old man at the end of the alley, not the least bit out of breath.

Tim, however, was exhausted. So, forgive him for being slightly rough with the elderly when he grabbed him by the collar, shoving him against the wall. The old man’s smile hadn’t disappeared in the slightest, and Tim’s hands balled tighter in his shirt, frustration eating at him.

Despite the rain, the man wasn’t wet in the slightest.

“Who – what are you?” he hissed.

"Just someone who wants to right a wrong."

"That makes no sense."

The Old Man tipped his head back and laughed. Too far. Slowly, he unraveled before Tim’s eyes, his form spilling away into red fucking string that slipped between his fingers no matter how hard he tried to get a hold on it.

Tim stared at the only thing that remained of the man. A tiny bow tied around his thumb.

He swallowed thickly.

It wasn’t connecting him to anything, so he was probably safe to assume that this was what was left of the original String, and yet the fact that he could suddenly see it did not bode well.

He rushed back the way he’d come.

Marinette and the blond were backed up against a random building, people clamoring for the blond’s attention. Apparently, Marinette was right about him being a minor celebrity – perfume ad guy, Marinette had shown the video to him a while back because apparently he, as a Parisian, had to see it at least once or else he was a ‘fake’.

He was pretty sure the guy’s name was –

“Adrien!” someone squealed. “Can I have an autograph?!”

Adrien looked a little overwhelmed. Understandable, really.

Tim glanced around, and realized they weren’t backed up against just any building.

He clambered up the fire escape and then let himself in via the skylight. A few flights of stairs later, he was fiddling with the lock on the door.

Marinette dragged Adrien inside by the wrist, and Tim slammed the door shut behind them, triple-locking it. Usually, they only bothered with one or two, but considering the crowd… well, it was best to be safe.

Marinette reached up and turned the sign over the door to ‘Closed’.

Adrien sunk to the ground, groaning. He took off his hat so he could run his hands through his already messy hair.

Tim took the moment to look at Marinette’s pinky. She, too, had a tiny bow wrapped around her finger, but she wasn’t bound to anyone. Not to Tim, and certainly not to the random blond guy beside her.

The lack of a Red String of Fate didn’t quite put him at ease. If it wasn’t that that had been 'righted', then what was going on?

“Sorry about that,” Marinette mumbled, sitting beside Adrien.

“Well, you did save me from – I don’t know – a bomb? A tracker? Whatever that guy put in my bag. So I did owe you. Now, I think it’s evened back out.”

Marinette snickered. “I guess that’s fair.”

“We can make you owe us again,” Tim said, walking to tap his knuckles against the glass case containing everything that hadn’t been sold that day. Usually, they’d eat some and donate the rest, but hey, they had company for the foreseeable future. Might as well pawn some food off on him. “What’re you in the mood for?”

Adrien smiled faintly. “Got anything with passionfruit in it?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Awwwwwwww.”

Marinette was watching Adrien out of the corner of her eyes, something inscrutable on her face.

“Mari?”

She jolted to attention, something soft stealing over her face. “I could make some passionfruit macarons, if you’d like that.”

Adrien’s eyes lit up, but he was quick to shake his head. “No, I can’t make you do all that…”

“We’re going to be stuck here for a while,” she said, pointing at the crowd still standing outside the door. “We might as well have something to do.”

Adrien nodded hesitantly. “I guess…”

“Great!” she said, hopping to her feet smoothly.

She held a hand out to help him up.

Adrien smiled as he took it.

#bound #maribat #timari #timinette #timmari #i feel you #gods are trying to be nice for once #they are bad at it #tim drake #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #red robin

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crying-shewrote · 1 year

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anti-hero

I'll make a summary when I'm fully awake and not sleep deprived.

"I wake up screaming from dreaming One day I'll watch as you're leaving 'Cause you got tired of my scheming For the last time"

Taylor swift

pairing: bale!Bruce Wayne x Original Female Character

Word count: 831 words

Chapter 1

“Begin Again"⠀

⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ‿෴🦇෴‿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

My eyes begin to hurt as I continue to strain them. I pull my left sleeve up to look at the time on my Casio watch, 5:23 AM. I didn’t feel safe and certainly couldn’t go to sleep with the possibility of anything happening. We had been on the road for more than ten straight hours with one being a sitting duck on this boat. All because of a fucking letter.

I wrap Martha's blanket around her tighter. Her stuffed pet dog, Luna, is suffocating between her arms and chest. She stirs and moves closer to my own chest. Her thick brown hair is braided into pigtails and is messy from moving so much.

I watch the family in front of us begin to wake their teenagers up because the ferry would arrive in Gotham in twenty minutes. I groan mentally as I remember the small child on me and her hatred of waking up early. Martha had been sleeping when I carried her into the waitng area.

I was about to nudge her when an announcement goes through the speaker, “Ladies and gentlemen, our trip has ended. We hope you enjoy your stay if you’re visiting and if you’re a Gothamite, welcome home.” The loudness of the speakers was enough to ensure anyone who had been sleeping was now wide awake.

“Mommy no!” Marth’as voice is laced with sleepiness. She grabs one end of the blanket and wraps it around her head. Then she moves her legs to be closer to the back of the seat. For nearly an hour she slept with her upper body on me, and her legs dangeling on hard plastic chairs. It’s a miracle she didn’t awake before because of her particularness when it comes to being comfortable.

“Martha, you have to get up.” She shakes her head. Stubborn as her parents. I shake her tiny seven year-old body playfully, “Pumpkin, if you don’t get up you’re going to miss looking at the river.” As if these were the magic words, she rises like a zombie all perked up. “Where mamí, where is it?”

The mother in front of us laughs along with her husband. Clearly, both of them had been watching the entire interaction. Martha is folding her blanket and hands it to me and waits impatiently for me to place it in my duffle bag. My cheecks slightly redden and nod to the couple as we start making our way to outside.

“Wait!" The husband stops us and I step protectively in front of Martha. He points to her, “Is this your first time in Gotham?” My offspring tilts her head in confusion, which I don’t blame her because she can barely rmeember our home address. “Yes," I answer for her.

The middle-aged man hands a quarter to her, “Everybody that comes to Gotham for the first time gets a chance to wish. You take this and throw it at the river.” Two workers start advising that those with cars to head to the deck. I thank the man and Martha shyly says "Thank you too." She starts speeding up as the crowd gathers at the exit.

“Mattie slow down.” I catch up to her and hear her mumbling. We get close to the edge of the deck. She tries to step closer to the rail, I stop her quickly. “Nope!"

“Why not?” I cross my arms, “It’s too close, you could fall.”

Martha’s eyes become glossy and I almost give into her act, “But I have to make a wish mommy!”

“I can throw it for you and you can make your wish.” She shifts her glance from me to the river. After contemplating for a second, she agrees and gives me the coin not before whispering her wish very quietly. “Now you have to kiss it for the wish to come true.

I gasp, “He did not say that.” Martha giggles. I airkiss it and throw it far. Well, I tried to at least. My throw has never been that good. “Let's go munchkin.” I spot our forest green car as we walk. I help her get into her seat after I accomodate my bag in the trunk.

Mattie asks me for some music as people "nicely" ask me to move. I turn to 95.1 and a Shawn Mendes song erupts in the car. The vehicle from behind honks and I step on the gas softly to increase my speed.

Six minutes later, we’re back on the road and I see Gotham for the first time in eight years. I stop by a drive-thru to get breakfast and order chicken bisuits, hashbrown patties, orange juice, and a coffee.

I enter his address on GPS, my brain not remembering that well how to get there. My fingers slightly tremble as I click on the start button.

“Make a left on Wellington Street and then proceed to go stragiht for three miles.”

12 miles until I reached my destination. I had about 18 minutes to collect myself.

A/N: ch. 2 will be posted sometime this week. Will try to post every week, which day? idk

#bruce wayne x oc #!bale bruce wayne X oc #christian bale #batman #bruce wayne

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echantedtoon · 5 months

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Blooming Friendships Ch7 A Hero's Home

(Hey everyone. I just wanted to thank everyone who read this far and liked my story enough to read it to it's end. I had a lot of fun writing it and it makes me happy knowing some people loved it enough to read it fully. If you liked this consider checking out my other works. Thanks to everyone for reading this, faving it, or leaving a nice comment. And thank you to GearsForBreakfast for creating such wonderful characters and giving me the opportunity to make this wonderful story. I headcannon Mustache Girl's actual name to be Muriel.)

A drip. A drop. A sprinkle. The water gently pouring down from the dark sky had started a little more than an hour ago, thunder and lightning waking him up every while due to his anxiety acting up to loud booming noises reminding her of some of the cannons and explosions that these mafia guys did on a daily basis. Unfortunately she DIDN'T like the rain too much. Especially being a cat and all that. Water was just not her thing. She still forced herself to take baths and use water for lots of her recipes, and she drank it of course. Gotta keep your self hydrated and healthy after all. But it didn't mean she had to enjoy it of course. Speaking of Mafia. Mafia Town was pretty much a deserted ghost town at the moment, only a few Mafia guys working this time of day as it got dark and the storm still wore on. Her feet patting against the wet pavement while her umbrella and raincoat kept the rain off her. Note to self. Get a pair of rainboots when she finally got out of here. Which would be soon. Three days in fact. After getting fired from her job for 'conspiracy with the kid in the hat alien girl' and missing her opportunity for working on that cruise ship, a miracle happened in the form of a famous director Penguin showing up on her doorstep with the proposition of working for his studios and having her own Cooking Show!! It was a DREAM COME TRUE!! And it was all thanks to that lil alien gal who just happened to mention her to him. ...Maybe it was fate anyways. She didn't feel like a cruise ship on water would've been a good place for her considering her aversion to water, and it ended up sinking anyways. So this was a great chance! A dream she had ever since she was a kitten! She had practically all her belongings all ready to go for the moving team in two days on that weekend to take the train out of town and to Express City where the famous Dead Bird Studios were. Where many a movies and shows were filmed. Soon she'd be out of this terrible place and soon start her own life away from this awful awful town. But for now she just wanted to get back to the comfort of her still soon-not-to-be home and cook up this delicious food she bought from the Mafia Town marketplace. The plastic bag in her hand was starting to get heavy the more she carried it walking along as the sound of raindrops hitting the earth and thunder shook the sky along with the occasional lightning. ...Gosh this just made her glad she didn't have to live here or have her job here anymore further. The Mafia headquarters where she USED to work was all the way on the other side of town and it was always such a long distance away from her home which was on the edge of town and near the train station. Made things easier to do when she moved at least.

She was almost home too. Just had to cross this bridge and walk along this road towards the back of Mafia Town and her home would be the first one you'd come across. She was hungry and could already taste the mouth watering cheesy fish steaks she could whip up. However it was when she was coming to the end of the bridge did she hear something. Being a cat meant she had extraordinary hearing so being able to hear things before she saw them wasn't usually a big deal, but what WAS was the kind of noise it actually was. Sniffles. crying. Small chokes, sobs, and hiccups. And in a young girl's sounding voice too. That's what made her pause. What was...that? Standing there in the rain the cat blinked for a moment shocked at what she was hearing before turning her head about and looking around. No one was on the bridge with her, and surely a grown Mafia Man wouldn't have sounded as young or as high pitched as these sobs were. ..And this was the first time she ever heard such a thing like this when crossing this bridge multiple times. So where as it coming from?...She paused. An ear flicking towards the end of the bridge where she was heading and she slowly turned to it. The sounds were coming from there amongst the rain and thunder and lightning. She stood there silently for the longest time before she slowly started her way forward. Her feet making small PLAP sounds with each step as she approached. The noises getting louder and louder before she reached the end of the bridge and looked over. And blinked again when noticing a small orange-yellow light coming from under the bridge. Was it some kind of troll? She wouldn't doubt it since meeting an alien and a ghost a couple times on her ship. Eventually the curiosity of the sounds got the better of her and she carefully descended down the small hill to look beneath the bridge. And what she saw made her yellow eyes widen. It was a little girl! But not just any little girl. OH NO!! One she definitely recognized all too well in fact.

It was that trouble making no good Mustache Girl as she liked to call herself and sprayed graffiti everywhere. Mostly art of making fun of the Mafia which she didn't mind too much as she wasn't the fondest person either, but what she had DONE to the world in that weird pocket dimension of lava and chaos still sent shivers through her fur. In fact she shivered just from the memory of it. Having been so angry enough she actually joined the crowd in wanting her to "Get Lost!" and return to her normal life of cooking. And she thought she had. In fact...She hasn't seen hide or tail of Mustache Girl since the whole time and space incident nearly a year ago now. In fact she hadn't even given it much of a second though too focused on her own string of bad luck in losing her job, missing her opportunity of her second job, and afraid she might've had to move back to Nyakuza City and settle for just being a plain chef in one of those cheap food vending vans. At least with that plan she would've still got to cook for a living. And focusing on her good luck with the new job and stresses of moving. Her life had been so busy she barely even remembered the girl before her...Well to be far she hadn't known much of her since moving to Mafia Town either and getting a job working at Mafia Headquarters. She'd sometimes she Mustache Girl causing trouble for the Mafia or running past her escaping or sometimes overhearing the Mafia grumble and complain about her a LOT while she was working. But the time incident might've been the first time she ever spoke to her despite chanting "Get lost!" in a crowd and only two times had she really come face to face with her. Then in the crowd and no just standing one or two yards away from the girl. She was huddled knees up to her chest and arms hugging her legs as she buried her face into her legs making those crying sounds she had heard earlier, her blonde hair tied in two ponytails on each side of her head. She learnt what was making that light at least. A small pathetic fire built just a couple feet away from the girl, why you couldn't have even roasted a marshmallow on it if you tried....She blinked and shook her head. About to turn now. Didn't matter. Best not get involved with someone who nearly destroyed the whole world for some hero complex. If she wasn't careful she might've come after her next for used to work for the Mafia. ...And yet. She couldn't get herself to turn around fully. Staring at the crying girl still as she sniffled....And yet. She WAS still just a child after all. What was she doing here all by herself without anyone to look after her? Well, she guessed Mustache Girl must've felt eyes on her because after a moment the sniffling stopped. And in an instant her head was snapped up and towards the direction of the cat. Yellow eyes met other yellow eyes as the two stared at one another for a long moment. Her eyes widening seeing her face. Pink and puffy from crying so much as a few tears still fell down her face. They continued to stare at one another before with a tilt of her head she decided to speak.

"Oh, uh. Sorry if Ah disturbed you any," the cat apologized shrugging her shoulders. "I was curious 'bout the noise is all."

the girl then gained a scowl before wiping at her face. Ok. Guess she wasn't the talkative kind. "W-Who are you?"

"Mah name's Cookie! What's yours?"

"Why should I tell you that? *sniff* You could be a bad guy!"

"Hm. That's a fair enough answer."..Taking a pause Cookie rose a brow and took another look around the cold and rainy place. Under a bridge was no place for a child. "But what's a lil girl like you doing under this drafty old bridge? It's all chilly." And that was putting it lightly.

She frowned more and turned her face away. "It's n-none of YOUR business! Why don't you mind your own business?"

Both were interrupted by a growling noise. Cookie blinked at the noise of a grumbling stomach and the girl shifted embarrassed more away from her. Slowly she held out her paw towards her. "Good gracious. Was that you're stomach a grumblin' away like that? It sounds like you haven't had a good meal in a while." Looked like it too by the looks of her. Mustache Girl's attention was gained back towards Cookie when the cat held up the bag and shook it making the contents rattle inside. "Say. I've got a great idea! I was just headin' home myself and cook up a delicious meal. Why don'tcha come along and I'll make ya something great ta eat?"

The girl stared at the bag for a big smacking her lips...before frowning again and giving her a suspicious look. "Ha! I wasn't born yesterday y'know. How do I know this isn't some kind of trick? Huh? Why would I go with you?" Her stomach growling a second time answered her making Cookie chuckled a bit.

True. Maybe it was a dangerous or even stupid idea, but...She couldn't just leave a little girl like this all cold and hungry and she'd obviously been crying. And despite what had happened...Giving her a hot meal to cheer her up wouldn't hurt a bit would it? "Come on. I'll whip you up a nice hot meal and you can get out of the rain for a bit. Alright?"

She continued to stare at the cat for a long moment before sighing and standing up. "Fine. But don't try anything! I can spot a bad guy a mile away!"

For better or for worst, Cookie lead her the rest of the way back to her home. But not before making sure to safely put out that fire under the bridge and Giving the little girl her umbrella to help keep the rain off her. Sure she hated the rain hitting her raincoat, but she wasn't about to let this poor hungry girl get all soaked and wet. Well...maybe not poor as she did try to destroy the world once, but right now...Cookie had a feeling she was back to being nothing more than another little girl just as much as that little alien and her friend was. And she couldn't just let a little girl be left all by her lonesome here of all places hungry and in the rain. Mustache Girl side eyeing her suspiciously all the way but she couldn't blame her. This was a sudden choice after all. She blamed it on the motherly cat instinct in her for this 'kitten'. It wasn't long before they arrived back at her home soon to be not home and she followed Cookie inside. Blinking and looking around at all the boxes and packed up things around her.

"I do apologize for the mess," Cookie explained closing the door and going to take her raincoat off, "But Ah'm in the middle of moving you see. So things are gonna be a bit unorganized. Why don't you go sit down and warm up while I get to cooking." Cookie paused as she walked past her, and now noticed how dirty and scraped up the child was now that she had a chance to look her over. "....But first I think you'd better do what everyone does before dinner and go wash up."

"Wash up?"

"Yes. Fully. As in a bath."

"You can't tell me what to do!," she pouted crossing her arms, "And you can't make me take a bath!"

"Hmm. Maybe not but I can control whether or not I give you food if you don't."

She continued pouting for a moment before her stomach grumbled again and she groaned. "UGH! FINE!! But this better not be some trick to fool me into lowering my guard! I should warn you I'm highly strong!"

"Dear the only 'highly strong' thing about you is your oder."

"Hey!"

Not paying attention to her protest, Cookie turned around and started walking away. "Follow me. I'll show you where the bathroom is, and I think I have an outfit that'll fit ya. No way you're wearing those dirty clothes."

Cookie had showed her where the bathroom was and had gifted her an old set of pjs for her to use. They were about the same height so even if they don't fit exactly, they should work in a pinch. As the girl went to bath she went back to the kitchen and set to work. Washing her paws, descaling and deboning the fish, chopping it into pieces, throwing a pan on the stove and turning it on, and starting to throw the fish fillets onto the pan. The fish sizzling inside with the oil and spices and herbs she threw in along the way. Her hard work shown in the delicious smells wafting through the air. Having so much experience cooking meant she could do it pretty fast and get dishes done in record time. Infact during that time, Mustache Girl came walking back in hair down all wet from the bath she took following the smell of food. Cookie caught her out of the corner of her eye and smiled her way.

"Ah! You got here just in time! The fillets are almost done, so you can just sit at the table while you wait. Ok Sugah?" She did as she was told slowly walking over to the chairs and table and climbing into one as the cat continued to cook away at the stove made specifically to her hieght. Sizzling sounds coming from the pan. About twenty minutes later Cookie had put two things on plates and decorated with some veggies on the side before grabbing them and with a smile turned and walked on over to the table. "Here we go. Hope you don't mind fish." She placed the plate right in front of her and noticed the blonde mustache he had previously was gone. Must've been a fake one to make her look tougher she guessed.

She looked to it hungrily and smacked her lips seeing it but still weary. "....What is it?"

"Cheesy fish fillet and some mixed veggies. A recipe I picked up in Nyakuza. Might not be everyone's taste but it's one of my favorite dishes." She stared at it for a little while before reaching out to prod it with the fork provided for her. Before finally taking a piece of it and sticking it into her mouth.....Her golden eyes widened to the size of plates. And she greedily began to dig in. Cookie blinked for a moment watching her scarf it down like her last meal before chuckling. Guess living on the streets meant she hadn't eaten a proper meal in a while. "Guess you were hungry. Slow down. You'll choke on your food. If you're really that hungry I'll give you seconds." And she did. After finishing her own plate she offered her own to the girl who eagerly took that one as well but ate it at a slower place. "You certainly do have a healthy appetite. Your mother must have a handful feeding you."

The girl paused for a moment mid bite....before slowly lowering her fork and giving her plate a frown. ".........I don't ...have parents."

Cookie blinked. Smile completely wiped from her face as she did. No ...parents? "Ya don't have any folks?" She shook her head no again to her question. That...would explain a LOT actually. "Then where's your other family? Surely there must've been somebody."

"Yeah.....Used to be. My grandpa before the Mafia came." She glared at her plate and ended her sentence by stabbing her fork down into the fish.

"Well where is he now?" She again paused.....before shaking her head. And Cookie had a good idea of what that could mean. Before the Mafia came huh? If that's the case she must've been on her own since a very young age, and she was still pretty young. GOODNESS GRACIOUS!! How long has this been going on!? "Goodness gracious." She looked to Cookie when the older cat put a paw on her shoulder with a look of pity...And guilt from even thinking bad about her. Doesn't excuse her misdeeds, but she didn't have anyone to guide her in life so no wonder she went a bit wild. "Sugar, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

...After a moment she frowned again. "It's fine. I'm used to it by now. I thought I could get my town back from the Mafia if I tried hard enough, but it didn't work and now everyone hates me."

"Oh sweetie that's not true. I don't hate you. You're just a little girl." She patted her head much to the girl's surprise. Maybe she DID not like her too much before. But she couldn't say that now. "People make mistakes growing up. That's how we learn."

"......Hey. Why are you being so nice to me anyways? Don't you hate me too for the whole...eh...World domination thing happening?"

Well yes maybe she was still salty about that but this was hardly the time to argue. So instead Cookie smiled. "Because you're just a little girl in a bad town. I don't expect you to be perfect, no one is. In fact this town's the reason I'm moving away."

This seemed to catch her attention as she blinked. "You can do that?"

She chuckled. "Of course. If I'm unhappy where I am I can move somewhere that makes me feel better. I did it before." She looked around at some more boxes. "In two days I'll be out of here on a train."

"Oh wow. I....Hadn't thought of that...Maybe somewhere else can use a hero too?"

She chuckled. "Maybe."......She slowly looked back to her. "Hey, Sweetie. If it's not too personal can I ask you something?" She blinked at Cookie but nodded. "Do you have anyone special here or a home?" .....She shook her head no again. "Then why stay here? You can come with me on the train."

"What?," the little girl asked wide eyed.

"Why not? I don't have anyone to ride it with, and I don't think staying here would be good for either of us. You don't have to say yes, and I'll respect you if you say no of course. Just thought I'd extend a friendly offer to a little girl who needs a hand."

They...continued to stare at one another in the silence other than the rain beating down on the roof...before eventually the girl looked down to her plate with a hum. "Eh. I'll think about it. No promises though."

Cookie chuckled before patting her head again and turning to the doorway. "Well you think about it then while I wash those old clothes of yours. You're free to spend the night on the couch, wouldn't want you caught up in the rain. I can't guarantee it's as comfy as a bed but it's probably a lot better than a rock." She stopped in the doorway all of a sudden before turning. "Oh. By the way. I don't think I caught your name. I don't really think it's 'Mustache Girl', so can you tell me what it really is?"

The girl stared at her STUNNED. As if no one had even given her the time of day to even think to ask that of her. After another silent moment she turned her face back to the food. And mumbled out one word no human could hear under her breath but thanks to her good hearing she heard her speak it. "Muriel."

...Cookie smiled. "Well, Muriel. I believe it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

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

"You don't seem too happy to see me, Kiddo. What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

The blonde girl in front of him frowned before crossing her arms and giving the ghost a stern look from her place in front of the ghostly house as the ghost smiled down at her as if any moment he'd pull one of his pranks on her. Which to be fair he had done a few times since Mu's arrival to live with them full time-

It was a long story.

A long story that had been sprung on him by Poppy of all people! Imagine his surprise when he just randomly popped into the ship one day expecting to see his lovely rose and two pecking mischief makers, only to discover the blonde girl alongside them all making herself at home, which he didn't pay attention too at first. That cat sometimes brought along that chaos causing troublemaker to play with his own but then he came back the next week and she was still there. Again not something that he'd pay attention too. So the blonde brat was back to play again. Big deal. It's not a problem. But then something happened that DID catch his attention. He was just sitting there in his old armchair reading a book on 'One Hundred and Ten Ways to Banish Your Enemies Into The Sun' when the typical laughter of children, human children, reached his metaphorical ears. Oh boy. Those two were here to start causing trouble again weren't they? His theory was confirmed when a small subconite sized blur with brown hair ran past his spooky home in the tree.

"PFFFTTT!!"

He didn't look up from his book at the raspberry. "You're a very rude young lady. Y'know that?"

Another blur with curly hair. "Hi, Snatcher!"

He gave a small smile still reading. "Hello, Bow."

A third small blur with a male voice. "'Ello, Mr. Snatcher!"

A small sigh. Moonboy's kid. Timmy sometimes invaded his forest much to his annoyance. "Hey, Kiddo."

A..fourth small blonde blur? "Ya kooky spook!"

He made some kind of choke noise in surprise at the new voice and looked up blinking wildly. Imagine his complete surprise when he found that little blonde troublemaker laughing and playing about the mushrooms with the rest of those children and he could only stare! What- WHY WAS SHE HERE!? He hadn't ever given her permission to come into his forest! And he certainly never gave any of THEM permission to invite her inside as well! The last time she was here she insulted his forest and contractual techniques which resulted in him tossing her (literally) out of his forest. And the last time he saw her (besides the few times on the ship-) was when she nearly ended his existence (again-) along with everyone else on the planet. SHE COULD'VE ENDED THEM ALL!! And yet here she was laughing and rough housing with the other children like a normal everyday thing. WHAT THE PECK WAS GOING ON HERE!? That's the question he asked a certain red head as she walked past, garden hoe over her shoulder. Stopped by her ghastly lover suddenly popping in front of her face startling her into jumping back.

"POPPY!!"

"HOLY PECKIN' MACOB!!," Poppy yelled hand clutching at her chest at the sudden spook. "Cheese n' rice, Snatcher!" She scowled at him. "How many times do ah gotta tell ya t-''

"WHAT. IS. SHE. DOING HERE!?," he interrupted with a growl pointing a clawed hand directly towards the four children.

Poppy followed his gaze just in time to see Bow jumping from a mushroom onto Mu and making the two laughing children to the ground before just as quickly running as Mu gave chase. ..And shrugged. "Playing?," she said casually looking back to the ghost.

Purple claws raked down his face in frustration. "I can see that. I meant WHY is SHE inside MY forest!?''

A dawn of realization finally came over Poppy. "Oh. Right. I didn't tell ya yet." His claws here removed from his face as he frowned at her. Did she forget about giving him a heads up that they were bringing an extra guest? Poppy knew he hated unwanted intruders in his forest! Even if his family invited them in! She knew what that caped kid did! He told her about how she nearly wiped everyone back into dust with those dumb hourglasses!! He was expecting an apology. He was not expecting what came out of her mouth next. "I took her in. Mu's living with us now."

He stared at her blankly. "......W H A T!?"

The yell was loud enough to make the children and some minions stop and look at the two adults, but Poppy just placed her free hand on her hip used to his personality by now. "Would you keep it down? You'll wake the dead more than what ya already are!"

"That's not the point, Red!," he hissed through fangs claws balling into fists. If he was still human his face would've become red in anger. "May I ask you WHY you all of a sudden decided to become oh so generous to the one who nearly wiped me off the face of the earth!?"

Poppy's irritation also grew. "Fine. I guess you have a right to know. But if ya insist on wonderin' why, it's cuz Cookie can't look after 'er in the long run." She stated matter of factly scowling back.

"What?!,'' his angry looked turned into one of disbelief and he threw his arms out towards her. "What's wrong with the cat!?"

"If you haven't noticed Cookie's not exactly a spring chicken anymore, Snatcher," she pointed out noting the cat's older age compared to the lot of them. "An' it's somethin' she was worried about." She shrugged at the ghost's dumbstruck expression. "We jus' happened to discuss one day and one thing lead to another and well-" Her free hand motioned towards the children who had resumed playing. "Mu's staying with us now."

"...." He frowned again. "And you didn't think to tell me about this!?"

"I tried! But ya left before I could even try talking to you twice!"

"Why though!? Don't you know what she's DONE to us-"

"Because I ain't gonna abandon a little girl on the streets when she's already suffered!," Poppy practical yelled back at his face making Snatcher flinch back when a hand firmly poked him in his chest fluff. "She's just a lil girl!"

"Poppy..." He frowned. Ok. Clearly anger wasn't getting through to Poppy. Maybe a more calm approach. "A little brat who stole those time pieces and tried to destroy the entire planet. Not half. Not a quarter. The ENTIRE planet. Which included my forest. If she had succeeded in that little plan..." A small growl escaped his lips as his grip on her hand lightly tightened. "I would've never been able to bring you back since that was before we even met again. He would've destroyed you too! She's ruthless and unforgivable! WE don't need a wannabe hero!"

Poppy stared at him for a good moment before frowning again narrowing her eyes. "Are you even hearing yourself?" He blinked. "Do you know who she sounds like?"

"Who?"

"You."

"ME!?," he squawked staring at her, "How is she anything like me!? We aren't the same!?"

"Oh really? You're angry about her nearly wiping the planet into nothin'." She pulled her hand away and poked his 'nose' watching as he looked cross eyed at her hand. "May I remind you of a certain ghost who's entire job is STEALING souls!! And get this. You do it to anyone who just walks in here regardless if they do anythin' or not!" He felt a small bead of ectoplasm sweat form on his forehead when the red head hummed and tapped her chin. "How many souls did you say you collected again? A few hundred? Maybe a few thousand even? And what was it that you made Hattie do in her contracts? Climb a dangerously tall well through a cursed swamp. Sent her to check up on Vanessa, who by the way, could easily freeze her- " Her arms were thrown into the air her garden hoe dropping down with a thud. "HOW is that any different or better than almost wiping the world out once? And may I remind you that Mu almost wiped out the world, she never actually went through anything like that unlike someone who actually did!''

"S-So what if I stole a few hundred-thousand souls!?,'' he huffed but still felt the ectoplasm run down his face, "She's the one who stole the magic things responsible for giving her those powers."

"SO DID YOU! Or did you forget how I unfroze? It wasn't the microwave that heated me back up, ya purple pool noodle!"

"She stole more than me!"

"Well you both stole them for the same reason!"

"HA!!" He scowled again now looking at her with a brow. "Oh really?," he challenged crossing his arms, "I suppose she has an evil ex with ice powers too! If that's the case I gotta know how she still has her body! I'd love to have been able to keep mine!"

Poppy flinched for a moment wide eyed, before a deep scowl speared her featured. "You know sometimes you can be the biggest PECKING jerk on the entire peckin' planet! You should have some sympathy for her considerin' what she went through!!"

"That blonde caped crusader of chaos went through NOTHING even remotely close to me!! If you think-"

"SHUT UP, PHILIP!!"

Silence rang out. Silence that was followed by the Snatcher snapping his jaws shut and leaped back a few feet from the tyranitcal yell that brought forth by the angry red head. Poppy was..Poppy was heaving now. Breathing through her crunched up nose, fists balled like she wanted to hit something, and her face seething red that was enough to freeze even Vanessa if she had looked at her. Her angry burst sending crows chirping and spiders into hiding. Subconites and dwellers stopping what they were doing to stare at the two of them. She-...Po-Poppy had used his name. His DEAD name. The one she used only when she was emotional. Whether it be out of sadness, happiness,...or raw anger. Which was now. The ghost flinched hard when a hand whirled out to hit against his chest and the shove was enough to make him yelp and shoot backwards a few decent feet.

"How DARE you say that about a child!!," she raged like a bull temper flaring making him shrink back dumbstruck. If it was anyone else, they would've been added to his collection of souls now, but this was different. "You don't know her situation! Would ya'll like ta know!?" She shouted and he didn't answer. "Imagine THIS if ya will! A person just goin' 'bout their day ta day lives an' then all of a sudden someone comes along and takes EVERYTHING from ya and changes your home forever! And no matter how hard ya try there's nothin' ya can do about it cuz it's beyond your control! ARE YA TELLIN' ME YA WOULDN'T TRY TA MAKE EVERYTHIN' RIGHT IF YA HAD A CHANCE!?" She shouted at the shrinking spook, daring him, challenging him to say the opposite. "ARE YOU SAYIN' YA WOULDN'T PASS UP THE CHANCE TA USE SOMETHING TO FIX SOMETHING WRONG IN YA LIFE EVEN IF IT MEANT STEALING IF YA WAS DESPERATE ENOUGH!? OH WAIT- YA DID DIDN'T YA!?" Her hands came back to pat her body and look at herself as if making sure she was still there. "That's how I'm still here isn't it?! Or was it a magic toaster oven ya used ta wake me up, Philip!? She was stranded all alone without any family thanks to some evil person who destroyed her home! Now who does that sound like!?"

He floated there in shock, not saying anything and just staring at Poppy who panted from her earlier burst chest heaving. The both of them stared at each other for a long time before Poppy just huffed and turned her head away.

"She's....scared, Philip. And I don't blame the poor thing." She slowly turned and bent down retrieving the gardening tool from the ground and placing it back over her shoulder. "Just cuz ya don't know her that doesn't mean she hasn't been through somethin'...Maybe ya shouldn't forget that either."

And that's how she left him. Shrunk in on himself and dumbstruck for hours. He wasn't even sure how or when, but somehow he managed to get back into his armchair and slump into it staring into space and letting new thoughts rebound around his head at what Poppy said. ..Before shaking his head and facepalming himself with a tired sigh. Great. HOW did he keep getting himself into these things? He was getting too old for this- FINE! After much consideration and hard thought- And yelling in frustration and pulling at his chest fluff- He'd let Poppy take care of the child and allow her access to his forest but that doesn't mean he would like it! Or her! He was only doing this to get Poppy off his back and to appease her anger though, not because he felt sorry for the brat! It seemed to have worked for the most part, because when he showed up days later with a few packets of seeds (which he totally didn't steal-) and told her Mu could come into the forest WITH SUPERVISION, she seemed to let all the anger held for him disappear and accepted his form of apology.

"Alright. But ya gotta be nice to 'er."

He rolled his yellow eyes. "Ugh. Fine."

"And you gotta promise me you won't try to take her soul or make her do ridiculous contracts! Or try to trick her into doing something!"

"Yes, yes. No manipulations, soul stealing, or contracts. Got it."

"And you have to start talking to her more."

"WHAT!? But I already promised so much!"

"M' not saying ya got to talk to her all the time, but enough to where she'll be used ta seeing you around. You can at least do that much."

"But-...RRRR!! FINE! Whatever! I'll...talk."

"Good boy."

"*sigh* This'll be more annoying then the time I tossed her into mud.'

"....You did WHAT?!"

"....Oops."

He ...did try talking to her, after Poppy's yelling session about finding out he literally tossed her out of his forest at one time. To his surprise she wasn't scared of him. Like...at all. The blonde gal scowled at him with the same energy of Poppy's called him names like the 'Kooky spook', purple pool noodle, and the bad guy. ...Yeah, they definitely told her about him and everything else. He didn't have to ask. His questions were answered when she told him one day-

"I don't care if ya was wronged! It's still a bad guy things to do taking souls!"

Although he wasn't sure who told her. Most likely Poppy perhaps in order to hopefully get the two closer to an understanding. Ugh. Like that'd happen. He felt irritated every time she was near him with her attitude and scowls and the few arguments they had-....Why was this feeling so familiar to him? Oh well. He did get her back. He promised he wouldn't do anything to harm her, but that doesn't mean he couldn't get back at her in other ways! Hiding her cape. Keeping her things away. Moving around her things. Hiding a small beetle in her bedsheets. Oh it wasn't as satisfying as he would've liked, but seeing her get irritated and unable to do anything was good enough. Ah. It was good to be a ghost. Poppy was irritated with him as well but he could argue that he did this to the other kids too so it wasn't like she was the only one experiencing it, which he did, but his direction he had towards Mu was obvious his recent target. Although there was one thing that also irritated him. It was inevitable that Mu would eventually meet Hazelle and Moonjumper. She had already met Timmy a couple times and was fascinated by his powers, she was REALLY fascinated by Hazelle's magic when she showed off a couple of her tricks, which did irritate him. HEY!! He was cool as well! He could do plenty of things! He was a Undead King! How much more impressive could you get!? But he was REALLY on edge when Moonjumper showed up one night out of the blue. Luckily he had been there at the same time he showed up and was right there when he came to 'visit' his kids-...His contractors again! His surprise wasn't lost on Mu who stared wide eyed at this glitching, floating ghost with wide eyes. Meanwhile he was greeted with a growl and snarl by the other ghost upon letting his prescence known. He still hadn't forgotten anything this FOOL tried to pull on HIS people.

His growl made Moonjumper freeze. "What are you doing here?", Snatcher demanded.

"Calm down, Old Boy," Moonjumper waved him off with a frown, much to his other half's annoyance. "I'm simply here to visit the dear children whom I love dearly. Is that so wrong?"

"Yes. You never come here for anything simple."

"Well you would be right about that." Moonjumper's red eyes gazed past down him and at Mu who flinched wide eyed under his smile. "I heard from a little bird-" Either Hazelle or Timmy he means. "-that there was a new little one amongst the stars here." His head tilted at the small blonde gal as she stared back at him and flinched at the unnatural twitching of his next as it moved in his glitching fashion, the chains clanking with his floating a bit closer. "So...I took it upon myself if it happened to be true."

Mu flinched and on instinct dove behind the nearest person to hide away from this scary new comer, which just so happened to be the other ghost in this situation. Snatcher blinked and looked down at his tail where he found her hiding behind the dark purple ghost with a face he was all too familiar with. Fear. Her eyes wide with the gold pupils shrinking to the size of pins, her hands clinging onto his tail, half peeking out from behind him at the other ghost. That's the expression he saw time and time again from his victims and the one he wanted from her from the first times he was stuck with her, but seeing her give that expression to Moonboy while choosing to hide behind him was...different. And then he remembered a very important detail that he let fly over his head up until now. Mu didn't sign any contracts with him. Not the kind that Poppy or the other children had. The ones that prevented Moonjumper from trying to pull the same stunt he pulled on Poppy and succeeding. Which meant that if any of those red strings decided to loop themselves around the brat's body, there wouldn't be anything stopping Moonjumper from whisking her away to the Horizon. In an instant his fluff bristled and bunched up, his eyes narrowed, and an unholy growl came from the depths of his throat that made Moonjumper instantly freeze. Red eyes snapping from the child up to the other half of him as he leaned over Moonjumper and snarled.

"Get. OUT. Of. This. Ship. NOW!!" Moonjumper had froze staring up at Snatcher whether it be out of fear or defiance he didn't know or care. He felt angrier that he had to repeat himself hissing. "GET OUT!!" He bellowed voice reverberating off the walls and echoing around the room with the power of a thousand thunderstorms. It was enough to make him disappear. Vanish into thin air scattering blocks in his way. Letting silence resettle once again in the ship's face. After a tense moment Snatcher untensed, letting out a disgruntled snort at the nerve of Moonjumper coming here 'oh so innocently' like that. Like Peck he'd let that happen. After all this was HIS territory...He slowly rose a brow back down to his tail tip which was still being death gripped by the blonde tot and after a moment wriggled it a bit. "Hey. You can seriously let go now."

Instead of listening she just gripped onto him tighter pressing her forehead into his tail making him sigh and reluctantly reach a hand down to pat her head. Guess he'd humor the brat just this once. And maybe it was because of that that the two of them would slowly start talking more. A little good morning there or a question about his forest here. Ok. SO WHAT!? So what if he maybe brought extra food for her along with the others? So he didn't want her to starve. Poppy would've bothered him for it anyways. So what if he maybe sewed a few outfits together for her? It's an eyesore to see her walking around in old rags. So what if he stopped complaining as much about her in his forest along with the others and stopped playing so many pranks on her? He got bored of it anyways! And complaining strains his throat! ...Nevermind he doesn't have a throat. It's easier to live with her if he treated her like the others- NOT THAT HE LIKED HER!! And he totally did NOT cackle to high heavens when she told him about her exploits against the mafia-

A wild evil sounding cackle rang out through the forest from the Snatcher's treehouse. In front of him was a proud blonde child looking pleased with herself hands on her hips as he cackled away.

"W-Wait. Tell me the part where you put all of his smashed bits in the bottle again!," his evil smile spread across his face wider. His distaste for those men ran about as deep as hers, especially with a certain red suit wearing mafia who flirted with a certain redhead.

"Well that wasn't my plan at first really," Mu confessed rolling her wrist, "All assaults need a good plan after all! I wanted to strangle 'em at first. Watch them choke and beg for mercy!" She proclaimed holding a fist up...before rolling her eyes, and letting her shoulders drop with a shrug. "But strangling would've been too kind. So then I came up with the idea of mushing them up in a jar and giving them a taste of their own medicine!"

Poppy's face was one of slacked jawed shock at what this teeny child just said but Snatcher looked more intrigued a clawed hand coming to rub his chin with a hum of interest. "Placing your enemies somehow still conscious remains in a jar huh? That sounds....devious. But quite messy. Not sure if I would want to have all that gunk entangled on me."

Mu shrugged. "Eh. I didn't have to get my hands dirty. It was easy to do after Hattie made him explode during their big battle."

"She did what? Really? AHAHAHAHAHA!! I knew she must've had some unspoken side to her! So tell me! How did you two pull it off?! She used that umbrella's laser beam didn't she?"

"PHILIP!! Don't encourage her!"

"WWWhhhaaaaatttt? You're the one who said I should be more encouraging."

"NOT 'BOUT THAT STUFF!!"

Safe to say that the both of them got another long talking too from Poppy, but..Despite the kid becoming not (totally so-) closer to him, there was still one thought that made him uncomfortable. And that thought started with a capable M for Moonboy. Moonjumper saw her, Mu was obviously scared of him, and the trick he pulled to gain Poppy still hung fresh in his mind. The advantage of taking anyone of importance was a too sweet deal even for Moonjumper to ignore and that thought still didn't sit right with him. Always made him growl and curl his claws at the thought. There was an obvious way to keep her safe, but he was very reluctant to do it. But everyday he put it off, the more the thoughts swirled, and the more the chance of Moonjumper snatching her away from him-...THEM was present. Until the boiling point tipped and he couldn't hold it anymore, which was exactly the reason why he was here now. Staring at her, having gotten her away from the others with one of his little teleportation tricks. He smiled at her despite her frowning face and raised brow with her arms crossed.

"I was just about to win against that cheeky minion of yours!," she complained stomping her foot, "What was so important you had to pull me out of that tree?!"

"Despite the fact Poppy would've killed me for letting you climb that thing?,'' he deadpanned, "I have some important investments to take part in! I've been thinking about this for quite some time and I've decided to expand my business endeavors! And lucky you gets to be the first one to experience this once in a dead-line opportunity!"

Before Mu could ask what the peck he meant by that, his hand reached up and snapped his claws, a single contract and quill appeared from no where. She blinked watching the paper unfurl itself and the feathered quill extend itself out to her. A...contract?? Narrowing her eyes, the girl directed her golden orbs suspiciously upwards to the ghost who gave nothing but a smile.

"A contract? Really? So you're actually going through with that part? I thought you'd actually make this more stupendous."

He surprisingly didn't get angry about that part and shrugged. "I'm more interested in making your stay here actually permanent. You could be highly useful to me and it's not everyday I stumble across someone who I actually make an investment like this in. Just sign on the dotted line and you won't ever have to worry about a home again!"

She blinked again, then looked at Snatcher, before taking a good at the new contract. The paper looked old and slightly torn around the edges here and there. At the very top of the paper was a fancy drawing of the creature before her with the face and his arms outstretched, beneath that was some very fancy writing that read "CONTRACT" in fancy bold capital cursive letters. The Rest was also in fancy cursive but lucking she could read it pretty well reading. It read as followed:

CONTRACT

SERVE THE DEAD WITH WHAT THE AGREEMENT STATES

You have been chosen by the benevolent and merciful the Snatcher. The terms and services will include your life long servitude and loyalty to said ruler The Snatcher. You have been lost but you are lucky enough to have been selected as few mortals to help the eternal after life and anything the Snatcher requests within reason of the servants morals and abilities. The following territories of the forest shall be available for the signer to visit willingly as they please.

-The Subcon Forest

-The Employer's Home (with special permission)

-The Subcon Village

-The Hat Brat's Time Piece Vault (you know why)

These parts shall NOT be available for any reason and will not be negotiated unless the employer says otherwise.

-The Haunted Manor

-The Frozen Bridge

-The Subcon Swamp

-The Subcon Well

-The Frozen Territory

-Any place my employer has said is off limits

By signing this the signer shall be paid for their service and loyalty with immortality (non ageing), protection from the Snatcher and those under him, a home, and anything the signer requests within reason. Binding by contract means your soul shall remain bound to the contract which cannot be broken by any means except by will of the employer, a.k.a the Snatcher. And in return the signer shall do ask the Snatcher asks with they're full cooperation and be given full custody of the signer. If the Snatcher at any point terminates the contract the signer's soul shall be released from his care and they shall live a normal rest of their life. By agreeing you shall also be safe from other supernatural entities and their influences whatever they may be, including influences from the employer and other minions. Also by signing this the signer agrees to willing do this and become a certified minion of The Snatcher. If you have complaints, suggestions, or other, the signer must report them to their employer immediately. As a down payment for all provided by the Snatcher, he shall be given the contract with your soul will be bound to for eternity unless decided otherwise, but the servant will be allowed free of will, full freedom, favors the employee asks of The Snatcher, with full control of their mind, body, and their soul in their body. Room and board, immortality, food, and any other living necessities shall also be provided by the Snatcher as stated.

SIGNED

And then there was a small line where her name would go.

Again she looked between him and the contract before narrowing her eyes at him again. "Alright. What's the catch here?"

Ugh. Did she seriously still think he was trying to trick her? He sighed. "It's not an enslavement deal and it isn't a work contract either. Don't get that mixed up with what it actually is." He placed a hand to his chest. "I'm simply offering you a deal that greatly benefits you and keeps that Moonshined idiot from taking what I consider to be mine. You even get to keep your free soul and will! Ain't you lucky?"

She deadpanned looked at him. "....This is a lowkey adoption thing ain't it?"

The noise he made sounded like something between a deflating balloon's wheeze and turkey choking underwater. "WHAT!? N-NO!! This isn't any kind of adoption!" Her brow rose further. "I'm just offering you a job for one of the best employers in the world!" He insisted. "I'd be a pecking fool to pass up on having someone who's determined enough to almost bring the world to it's knees working for me! HA! I could use someone like that to help me take down Vanessa-"

"Ok, ok. Yeesh! I'll sign it if it gets you to shut up."

He paused for a moment blinking. "....Wait. Really? That easy huh?"

She rolled her eyes grabbing the piece of paper from the air with the pen. "Yeah. They told me you'd pull this sooner or later. Why don't you just say you want to adopt people? Makes it less complicated!"

"FOR THE LAST TIME IT'S NOT L-LIKE THAT!!"

Uh huh. Sure. She really believed him and may have found amusement in that pout- Scowl of his! Once she did sign the pen disappeared in a small puff of smoke and she jumped, her grip on the contract loosening enough for the giant ghost to snatch it from her. At the same time a giant burst of energy throbbed hard within the very core of her body. Temporarily knocking the wind outta her. She gasped and fell to her hands and knees at the sudden tight feeling within her. Her body emitting a small purple light in the dead center of her chest before as soon it came it left and Mu stayed laying down gasping and blinking at the sudden sensation that came and left. Leaving goosebumps across the her flesh and shaking like a leaf again. Coughing and eventually snapping up to him. He smiled reading over the contract before it disappeared in a puff of flames too.

"Oi! What the peck was THAT about ya kooky purple onion!?", she demanded sitting up and pointed her hand accusingly at him. Ah...Someone's picked up some nicknames from Poppy.

He waved a hand away. "Relax. You're unharmed. It was just the bond ceiling between us and the magic forming a strong protective shield around your soul so no one, not even Moonboy, can harm you. Don't worry. You're perfectly fine. Although you might feel winded for a bit."

"It would've been nice to know that beforehand!"

She huffed before standing up and dusting herself off from the black dirt. Her annoyance was worth it though, he was satisfied and relieved. Moonjumper being a threat was taken cared off and this way Poppy wouldn't have to worry about her anymore than the other two-....Yeah. He could make this work with the four of them around. Of course he'll have to make a few adjustments as soon as possible, but nothing he couldn't manage-

"So do I get to call ya the 'dead-beat' dad now?"

"Absolutely pecking NOT!"

#a hat in time #blooming friendships #ahit moonjumper #ahit snatcher #ahit florist #ahit hat kid #ahit bow kid #ahit mustache girl #ahit timmy #hazelle #subconites #ahit cooking cat

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sociologyonthemove · 5 years

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A Littered Trail by Annabel Rawsthorne

This paper will provide a descriptive account of my walking study through the student accommodation area of Cardiff; Cathays. Having spent three years familiarising myself with the area I’ve increasingly noticed the key factor that stands out above all else in this environment; the litter. Puwar (2019) conducted a walk with the key focus of litter. Within her study she points the finger at students claiming “Whilst the walls of the university extend across the city and into our neighbourhood so does the litter and rubbish”. Granted, students are publicised as careless and polluting humans (Lewis 2018). However, can we simply state the litter is due purely to students or, additionally, those non student residents? With Cathays as my urban laboratory I equipped myself with a camera in attempt to understand and break down how students interact with their surrounding environment.

My home, in the centre of the student hub of Cathays, is where I will begin and end my circular walk. The bright blue sky, which has been hidden for the last few days, matches my positive mood. I step out of my home onto Wyeverene road, the street I’ve walked down almost every day of my university career. However, today is not like those days, I will be paying attention to aspects I usually wouldn’t acknowledge, becoming more aware of my surroundings. As I begin my walk I notice the peace and tranquillity that exists between the 4am stagger home and the 9am hustle to make the first lecture. It’s not often I manage to leave the house in this five-hour window and I hadn’t appreciated Cathays could be so quiet. However, this tranquillity comes to a swift end when the stench of the weekend hits me, with the stale smell of alcohol lingering in the air along with Wales’ victory of the six nations. The remains of cider cans are sprinkled along the street like glitter as they catch the sun almost continuing the weekend celebrations. Not long after I begin my walk I notice a recyclable bin bag on the street (0:39) and I begin to think, how is it a person makes the effort to ensure paper and plastic are disposed of in the correct coloured bag but then results to being littered so carelessly in the street? Alongside it an abandoned black umbrella which provides no use on this bright day, however would have been critical at the time it failed its owner, leaving them to the elements. With the sun gleaming in my eyes I continue to walk, I notice a bin bag that perhaps has come under attack by the abnormally large seagulls we breed here in Cardiff, with household rubbish such as egg boxes covering the side walk (2:25).

As the consistent trail of litter guides me up Wyeverne Road I begin to develop a sense of shame in the way Cardiff students are living up to the stereotype labelled to us. As Puwar (2019) states “walking is full of litter”, this statement is beginning to make sense to me, as I walk a piece of litter is never far from where my foot falls. I reach Salisbury road and the remains of take away boxes become more frequent after being discarded in people’s drunken states. As I begin to think with all my senses, I can almost taste the curry sauce from the polystyrene boxes as the smell becomes so dominate below me, which at this early hour turns my stomach (Bates and Rhys-Taylor 2017). Crossing the road, I come to two large blue bins (4:27), however rubbish seems to surround them, almost guarding them. What sense does this make that these large bins sit empty but yet around them lies rubbish? Turning on the Rhymney Street my first acknowledgement is the sudden rise in accumulation of litter. It seems storm Gareth and bin day make a lethal combination. People must be starting their day, as I begin to pass more students walking towards the city, as I get half way down Rhymney Street (5:20) I reach a pile of rubbish which I assume had been blown from the 90 mph winds we had experienced over the last week. One element I found amusing was the juxtaposed litter consuming the area around a pristine BMW, with a slight smile on my face from the contrast I continue focusing on my surroundings. The mass litter is spiralling out of control on this student dense road with no sense of care from residents (5:38). Even the small brown food waste bins remain outside, almost a week after the day of bin collection displaying how disorganised and careless students really are (7:23). The smell of fermented food which remain decomposing at the bottom of each bin dominates its surroundings, a waft of rotting banana hits me but then floats away as quickly as it came. I pick up my pace in an attempt to escape the smell.

Further down from the sea of brown food waste bins lays the remains of a desk, dismantled outside a house, the bin men have clearly declined collecting it as they so often do in Cathays. This begins to present an argument that the issue of litter is not only due to students but related to multi structural issues. A desk (7:46); a necessity at university, how is the owner coping without it? With each piece of litter I pass, endless questions pop into my head about the life of each object and their past owner. Looking forward at my route all I can see is the endless scattering of rubbish, almost like a treasure hunt; I continue to follow the trail (8:12). As I walk I notice a dark green ‘Travis Perkins’ bag lying on the floor, next to it, its trusty sidekick; a full bin bag (8:41). I begin to see patterns, where one abnormal piece of litter lies, more accumulate around it. Students clearly determine that if someone else has left an unwanted item then it sends the all clear for others to do the same. As I follow the road I enter a more residential area and the rubbish seems to subside suggesting it is the students at the core of this field of garbage (9:44). While acknowledging the lack of litter in this area I approach a house under construction, with a mass amount of rubbish both outside and inside the metal fence surrounding the home (10:45). A literal ‘dumping ground’ as people have thrown their unwanted wrappers over the fence, I notice a can of red bull propped up by the brick, I wonder whether it was once owned by the builder or student as both are always in desperate need of energy.

When weaving in and out of the scaffolding, I come into contact with an older male, who I assume is a local resident in this area. When trying to pass the narrow section simultaneously, we both stand aside in order to let the other go past before he politely says “go on”. I move through replying “thank you” (10:51). It’s nice to see residents don’t seem to hate students as much as displayed in the media, despite consuming their neighbourhood and as seen; destroying their landscape. When I reach Woodville road my first interaction is the loud noise of a lorry, maybe doing its morning deliveries to Sainsbury Local. When the vehicle comes in to view it is in fact a bin lorry (11:35). The loud engine ploughs through the road and I question why it is leaving Cathays when so much rubbish remains? However, it is known that rubbish disposal is a key issue in student areas (Munro and Livingston 2012). Again, displaying the wider multi structural issues, highlighting the complexities of this problem within the student environment. Turning right I instantly notice the minimal rubbish on the roads, perhaps those with shops make an extra effort to ensure their shop face is clear of debris or maybe we’ve left the student nest.

As I walk along the main road the absence of rubbish continues until I come across a pair of black bin bags stuffed with litter in the centre of the main pavement and on the left a bright red umbrella as well as a travel case for an animal (0:14). Why have these peculiar things ended up here? I think back to other places in the UK I have been and I realise how bizarre the rubbish around Cardiff really can be. The sound of cars rushing by the main road, splashing through puddles and the smell of melted cheese from the pizza parlours consume me. I feel my tummy grumble as I remember I haven’t even had breakfast yet! Behind a blue fence I notice a pile of what looks like abandoned clothes, what I would state as rubbish. However, I remember the big problem of homelessness we have here in Cardiff and think how these clothes may actually be an individual’s only possession and is certainly not rubbish to them (0:45). It’s interesting to think how people define rubbish and the way this definition differs from person to person. I have been walking through these streets mindlessly defining objects as rubbish. But what actually classifies something as rubbish? This is determined by the individual observing and differs throughout culture and time.

When I reach Flora Street the return of the brown food waste bins signify that I have just re-entered the student’s territory (3:57). I come across an obstruction on my route; a large amount of cardboard that has turned soft, meaning it has been outside for a number of days absorbing all the rainfall (5:18). I slowly reroute around it without too much thought, but why is it we automatically revert our route when I could have simply walked through the mushing remains of cardboard with little problems? Linking back onto Woodville road and I notice yet another bin bag (5:48). But this one is clinging to the front wheel of a car, almost imitating a clamp as it wedges itself between the curb and the wheel. Further along the road one house appears to have a junk yard as their front garden (7:38). The smell of rotting food once again filling the air around me. Their food waste bin emptied onto their gravel and bin bags dotted around, beautiful daffodils trying to break through the rubbish to shed some light. It is clear students occupy this property due to a lack of pride in their surroundings. It is unlikely they would treat their home away from university like this, is it a statement of intent, to live in these conditions?

Finally, as I reach the beginning of Wyeverne road, the home stretch, I feel the crunch of shattered glass at the sole of my shoe (8:58). The scratch like nails down a chalk board making me shiver and clench my jaw. A shelf of a fridge has been shattered outside the house. I can’t help but wonder why only a shelf has been binned? What happened to the rest of the fridge? Just a few steps forward and a group of coat hangers lay coatless on the floor. As I’ve walked my eyes have been opened and I’ve noticed my surroundings of disregarded objects in a much deeper sense than before, confirming how Smith and Hall say “gain understanding of the everyday experiences” (2017, p40).

I have come to the end of my walk and I can identify the areas where students reside by simply looking at the surrounding rubbish. It is clear those whom are permanent residents take more pride in their neighbourhood and ensure their streets are clean. Whereas the students are aware they are simply here for term time over a three-year period therefore bare little responsibility or pride for the area. University students are associated with being intelligent individuals however the abundance of litter shows the lack of intelligence. It is clear these students don’t think about their actions and assume once they let go of litter it is no longer their responsibility. However, this rubbish will not simply disappear. This is a popular topic in the media, educating society on how this rubbish will last hundreds if not thousands of years, but yet people are happy to let it go wherever the wind blows.

Using the method of video was very beneficial as it enabled me to continue my analysis. Reflecting on the walk, I begin to answer the questions I presented myself. One key development is applying the use of broken window theory which states if a broken window is left unrepaired it displays how little the neighbourhood care, therefore, the deviance is tolerated and therefore more likely to reproduce (Kelling and Wilson 1982). This is evident in Cathays, as the discarded rubbish polluting the streets has been left untouched by other residents, thus resulting in others partaking in the deviant act. This answers the question of whether this rubbish is due to students, it can be said with confidence that all residents play their part in normalising this behaviour of littering.

References

Bates, C. and Rhys-Taylor, A. 2017. In: Bates, C. and Rhys-Taylor, A. eds. Walking Through Social Research. London: Routledge, pp. 1-11.

Kelling, G.L. and Wilson, J.Q., 1982. Broken windows. Atlantic monthly, 249(3), pp.29-38.

Lewis, A. 2018. Filthy scenes as university students leave piles of rotting rubbish and abandoned cars in streets before summer break. The Mirror. [online] Available at: https://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/filthy-scenes-university-students-leave-12850760 (Accessed on the 8th April 2019)

Munro, M. and Livingston, M., 2012. Student impacts on urban neighbourhoods: policy approaches, discourses and dilemmas. Urban Studies, 49(8), pp.1679-1694.

Puwar, N. 2019. Walking through Litter. Life Writing Projects. [online] Available at: http://reframe.sussex.ac.uk/lifewritingprojects/place/nirmal-puwar/ (Accessed on the 19th March 2019)

Smith, R.J. and Hall, T., 2017. Seeing the need: Urban outreach as sensory walking. In Walking through social research (pp. 39-53). Routledge.

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kastrupfoldager02 · 2 years

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lazysimp · 3 years

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Quiet Ones /// Tamaki x Fem Reader (18+)

✧Click HERE to read Male version ✧

Rating: Explicit

Summary: When your boyfriend invites you to his house for the first time you work hard to make a good impression. You make sure to dress nice, leave early, and even bring dinner. But when a driver splashes you with their car all of your carefully laid plans go out the window along with your self-control.

TLDR: Reader wants to fuck and their wish is granted

Word count: 9k+

Warnings/tags: Tentacle sex, Electroshock, Virgin Amajiki, Explicit Sexual Content, Teasing, Masturbation, Begging, Oral sex (receiving and giving), She/Her pronouns, All characters are adults,18+ Only

masterlist┃AO3

“Can I have the eel poke bowls to go please?” You ask the store attendant as you check your phone. Half-past six, that should give you ten minutes to get to his place before it would start snowing.

“That will be 1,200 yen,” The attendant pushes out the metal tray for you to drop your money. You grab the to-go bag with excitement, after four months of dating you're finally going to see his apartment. You thank the attendant and shove open the door to enter a bitter cold street. The restaurant was only a few minutes’ walk from his building.

You hold the bag of food close to your chest; he should have gotten off patrol over an hour ago. You were a little disappointed you wouldn’t get to see him in his hero uniform, but this would give you the chance to see him in some casual clothes.

You still couldn’t believe that he had invited you to come over and spend the holidays with him. His face had been bright red when he asked, you wanted to wrap your arms around him so badly at that moment but managed to resist the urge.

When you first started to date Amajiki, Nejire had pulled you aside for what you thought would be the classic shovel talk but instead she had given you a different kind of warning.

“Amajiki has the heart of a kitten, he gets flustered very easily. When you two are alone together he will be too nervous to tell you that things are going too fast and he may go further than he wants to please you. Try letting him be the one to initiate touch, that way you know for sure you aren’t pushing him too far.”

You shutter as you remember her words. You never wanted to push Amajiki into a situation he would be uncomfortable, you wanted to be someone he felt safe with, so you put your needs on the back burner. There was only one small problem with that.

You are so fucking horny.

At first, you were able to suppress your desires, simply ignoring them whenever they arose, but after months of sexual frustration you were ready to jump him. Being around Amajiki was the greatest joy and the most frustrating deprivation you had ever experienced.

You made sure to plug in your vibrator when you left your house so when you leave tonight you will be able to release some of the frustration you will inevitably build up. The little machine was the only thing keeping you sane at this point.

You bring in your arms closer to your body as the temperature continues to drop. You round the corner and could make out the entrance to his apartment building, the doorman waiting outside the entrance. A loud honk behind you made you spin on your feet, only to have a wave of freezing cold water cover your entire body.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” You screech. Wiping the water away from your eyes you could barely make out the black car speeding down the street, its wheels wading through the water gathered by the side of the road.

“Asshole!” You curse fruitlessly, as the car disappeared from your sight. You look down at your now soaked clothes in disgust. There is no way you could let him see you like this. You reach into your coat pocket and click on his name. You peek inside the bag of food while the phone dialed and let out a sigh of relief, the plastic bag managed to keep out the flood of water.

“Bunny?” His worried voice answers after a few seconds, “Is everything ok, are you here?”

“I’m fine,” You quickly reassure. “I just ran into a little problem so I will be a little late.” So much for surprising him with dinner you thought to yourself.

“Problem, what happened, do I need to come get you?” He asked in rapid-fire. You could hear him stand as he spoke.

“No, I’m alright. Some asshole splashed me with his c-car,” You stutter as the cold sinks through your coat, too cold to care that he heard you curse.

“What! Your clothes got wet in this weather?” The sound of his breathing quickened.

“Amajiki, it's ok really,” You coo, not wanting him to worry. “I’m just going to head to my place quick and change.” Your grip on the phone loosens as your fingers begin to prickle from the cold. Damn, you needed to get out of this weather.

“Where are you?” He asked as his door opened.

“I’m just outside your place, but you don’t have to worry it will only take me a few minutes to get back to my apartment and I don’t want to be an inconvenience to you.” The words spill out of your mouth as you try to convince him to stay in his home. The phone line was silent. You took it as a sign to keep going.

“Really, everything is fine, there is no need for you to worry I know you must be tired after your shift and the last thing I want to do is cause you any-“ Your speech ends as you could make out his unmistakable profile standing in the entrance.

He turns his head in the other direction before swinging over to find you standing in the middle of the sidewalk looking like a soaked squirrel. You had spent hours getting ready to look nice for your first holiday with your boyfriend. If you could hunt down that driver and put their head on a stake you would.

“Bunny,” He gasps before running over to you, encasing your body into his warm arms. You snuggle your nose into his scarf. Wait, damn it, you push your hands against his chest to move him away from you.

“I don’t want you getting w-wet too,” You shiver, wanting nothing more than to shove yourself back into his warm embrace.

He ignored your complaint and engulfs you in his arms once more. “Don’t worry about me, I’m not the one soaking wet.” He places a soft kiss on your forehead, “let’s get you warmed up.”

You could think of a great way to get you warmed up. You pinch your arm, bad horny brain, get it together, he was just innocently holding you because he cared about your safety, he did not want to fuck you. He starts to guide you to the entrance of the building, keeping you huddled close to him.

You shuffle your feet along with his steps, your legs tingling from the cold making it hard to balance. He paused, “Are you ok, you are walking funny?”

You wanted him to make you walk funny, you snicker to yourself. “I’m fine, my feet are just a little cold.” He gives you a look of horror before he bends down and sweeps you into his arms. “Wait, Tamaki, it's not that big of a deal.” You insist, wiggling in his arms.

He shook his head, “It’s not safe for you to walk when you can’t feel your feet.” He pulled you in closer to his chest, “Plus sharing b-body heat is one of the quickest ways to warm someone up quickly.”

Well, who were you to argue with that logic? You could hardly complain if he wanted to hold you in his arms, you would happily take any touch he wanted to give. Relaxing in his arms you look up at his face, his skin ethereal under the moonlight, he reminded you of a Fairy King. God, you were the luckiest woman in the world, how you managed to get him to fall for you will remain one of the world's greatest mysteries.

You bury your face in his neck as he carries you through the ground floor up to his apartment. The blast of warm air against your frozen skin stung but you could care less, your boyfriend was carrying you like a princess back to his castle to ravish, you mean, cuddle you.

As he reaches the door to his apartment you get ready to get back on the ground so he could unlock the door, but you feel something slide out from under your knees. You look down to see a small purple tentacle meander its way to the lock, the key in its grasp.

You stare at the tentacle as it unlocks the door. You couldn’t tear away your gaze even as he steps into the apartment and places the key on a hook. It was one thing to know your boyfriend could grow tentacles, but it was a whole other thing to see it in person. Too soon the small tentacle slowly shrinks back in on itself disappearing back under to the fingers holding your legs.

“Sorry, I know it’s weird,” His weak voice whispered.

You look up and see his face aflame, his eyes looking to the ground. You immediately wrap his chin with your cold hands and gently lift his eyes to yours. “Amajiki I was staring because that was one of the most amazing things I have ever seen in my life. You are extraordinary, nothing about you is weird, it’s just different and I happen to love different.”

His purple eyes grew wide at your confession, his chin wobbling under your grip. You lift your head and give him a small kiss on the tip of his nose. “Now, do you have any clothes I can borrow?”

He looks down to see your wet clothes and shaking hands, “Why didn’t you remind me sooner, you’re freezing!” He made a beeline to his bedroom and softly sets you on his bed. You drop the bag of food on his nightstand and watch as he ruffles through his drawers, yanking out an assortment of sweats and t-shirts.

“We need to get you out of those clothes,” He said as he drops the pile next to you.

“We need to do what?” You squeak, unsure if you had heard him right. You must have fallen outside and were in a coma because there is no way your Amajiki could have just said something like that.

“Your clothes are soaking wet; they are only making you colder,” He explained. You nod, relieved you weren’t in a coma, your boyfriend was just being thoughtful.

Your numb fingers fumble with the zipper on your coat, pulling down on the metal tab to try and get it down, but the damn thing wouldn’t budge. You bite down on your lip and pull down harder, but it was no use the zipper had snagged on something.

Warm, long fingers covered yours, “Here, let me do it.”

You nod and move your hands away, watching as his fingers expertly freed the zipper in seconds. He wasn’t finished helping though. His hands ventured up to your shoulders where he grabbed the material and pushed it down your arms. He let the jacket sit at your waist as he drops down to his knees to start untying your shoes.

You sat still; happy to bathe in the attention he was giving you. As he worked on getting your shoes off you took the opportunity to get a close look at his face. His soft pink lips were pressed tight together in concentration as he wiggled to boot off your foot. You couldn't help but smile as you watch him now move to get your soaked socks off. No one had ever taken care of you like this, where each touch was filled with care.

Once your feet were free he stood back up and grabbed the bottom of your shirt. You held your breath; would he really do it? The soft wet material started to peel off your skin as he lifted his hands with your shirt in tow. You lift your arms over your head and try to keep your face neutral, not wanting to scare him off with your excitement.

With the cold shirt off you wrap your arms around your chest and rubbed your arms. You tilt your head as you look at Amajiki who stood still in front of you, your shirt still in his hands. He glanced down only to flush bright red, “I’m sorry,” he looked away as he realized what he had done. You wanted to slap yourself, of course this would be too much for him.

“What are you apologizing for? I wouldn’t have been able to get those off without your help.” You gave a small laugh, trying to reassure him. “You are like my own personal hero! ” His blush radiated to the tips of his ears at your words. You don’t think your poor heart can handle much more of his cuteness.

“I’m going to go start the shower, you are still shivering.” With that he turned around and entered the small room attached to his. You put your face into your hands and sat like that for a few minutes, trying to process everything that had just happened. This was by far the furthest he had ever gone before. Sure, he had done it to take care of you, but progress was progress.

“The shower is running, you can use anything you want in there,” His eyes were staring straight ahead, not looking directly at you.

“Oh, thank you.” You stand up, using one of the sweatshirts to cover your chest not wanting to overwhelm him more than necessary. “I grabbed you some dinner, I know how hungry you get after your patrol. Feel free to eat while I’m in the shower, I’ll be sure to hurry.”

“N-no need to rush,” His hand went to rest on the back of his neck.

You tap on his nose, surprising him enough to look at you for the first time since he returned, “Sure there is, I want to spend time with my boyfriend.” You tease, giggling as his blush returns with a vengeance.

“I’ll just be in the other room if you need anything,” His voice cracked as he grabbed the food off the nightstand and made a quiet retreat. You drop the sweatshirt back to the bed and unclasp your bra. Despite wanting to get back to him as soon as possible your hands did need to warm up before you did anything else, their angry tingle was relentless.

You slip out of your pants before stepping into the steam-filled room. You let out a sigh as you felt the warm steam on your skin; it was the perfect temperature. You stick your hands under the stream of water and gasp, it hurt so good. The skin protested as it began to slowly regain feeling. After a few minutes, the pain finally retreated so you got to work warming the rest of your body.

You open his body wash and squeeze the bottle to smell, a sweet soft olive fragrance filled your nose. It smelled just like him. You squeeze a giant glob onto your hand and lather yourself with the gel, wanting to have his scent on you.

After finishing washing your body you turn off the shower and wrap the fluffy towel Amajiki had laid out around your chest. You grab a few of his shirts and lift each to your nose until you found one with his smell still engraved in the fabric. You drop the towel to the floor, not bothering to dry off the rest of the way and put on the soft t-shirt. Your panties had been soaked from the asshole so commando it is. You slip on a pair of his baggy sweats; the soft material caressed your legs like you wanted his hands to.

Stepping out of his room you peek into the living room to see the empty poke bowl sitting on the small Kotatsu Amijiki had bought for winter. He was resting on the couch, a blanket wrapped around his body and a small mound of pillows at his back. The tv was on his Netflix profile and he was scrolling through the vast collection of movies.

“You look comfortable,” You tease as you sit down next to him. His room was still cold to your wet skin, but you didn’t mind, it was worth it being able to be next to him again.

His sleepy eyes warmed when they met yours. He opened his arms, opening the blanket burrito he had expertly crafted around him. “C-Come here Bunny, you still look a little cold.” He gently ordered. You didn’t need to be told twice, you dived towards his arms, resting your head on his warm chest.

He closed his arms back around you, encasing you in a warm cocoon. “Is there anything, in particular, you want to watch?” He asked quietly in your ear as his hand started to trail up and down your back.

You nod, “Something funny.” You loved to hear him laugh. It was one of the prettiest sounds you had ever heard. It was quiet and came from the back of his throat. They only ever lasted a few seconds before he would grow shy.

He scrolled through the array of movies until he landed on a classic. With the movie chosen he dropped the remote to his side and laid his free arm around your shoulder, resting his hand on the back of your neck. You let out a sigh and snuggle in deeper, wanting to melt into him.

He gently massaged the back of your neck as the movie played, alternating between soft gentle strokes and deep rubs with his strong fingers. You felt like a puddle as his touch worked the sore muscles.

“You smell like me Bunny,” He whispered. “I like that.”

A wave of heat rushed through your body, your boyfriend was such a tease, and he didn’t even know it. Well, if he was allowed to touch your neck surely you could touch him, right? That seemed like a fair exchange. With the movie long forgotten you slide your hand down his stomach, feeling the hard bumps of his abs along the way. It should be illegal for someone to be this perfect.

You could hear him suck in a breath as you slip your hand under his shirt. You freeze and look up at his face to watch for any sign he wanted you to stop but his stomach relaxed into your touch. You spread out your fingers covering the lower half of his abdomen and then watched as his eyes fluttered closed as he let out a sigh.

Feeling more daring you drag your hand lower to the waist of his sweats. The soft hair from his happy trail tickled the tips of your fingers as you teased his sensitive skin. He let out a small gasp as he suddenly grabbed your wrist. You jerk your head up to meet his wide eyes.

“Can you give me a minute; I think I need to go to the bathroom,” He starts to wiggle his body to escape your hold. You look down and catch a glimpse of his pants. The grey sweats had a small wet spot on top of a large bulge. Oh, that explains it.

“Amajiki, are you hard?” You ask boldly, your mind mush after seeing his bulge. He leaned to the left, good to know.

He let out a choked gasp, his face grew to a deep burgundy as he stuttered for words. “I just need to get to the bathroom.” He finally answered, completely avoiding your question. His wiggling grew more frantic, but you wrapped your arms around his torso and smiled.

“Do you want me to take care of that for you?”

His mouth dropped open in shock, “What! B-Bunny you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” You tease. “It's obvious that you like what I was doing, and to be honest I liked doing it.”

You could see the gears in his mind jam as he processes what you just said. “You want to t-touch me?” He doesn’t look at you as he asks.

“It would make me happy to touch you Amajiki, but only if you want me to.” You try not to pressure him, Nejire's words still in the back of your mind.

He stares at you, his black eyes dilated as the cogs start to turn once more. “Are you sure you want to do something like that with me?”

You nod your head eagerly, “I want to touch you so bad.” Your entire body is filled with warmth at the thought of bringing Amajiki pleasure. Watching him come apart from your touch would be one of the greatest achievements of your life.

“Well i-if you’re sure,” He mumbled. “Then it would make me really happy to have you do that.” He rested his body back on the couch and you settled back into place, your body flush with his side.

“If it's too much just tell me to stop,” You rest your hand on this soft cheek. “I promise I won’t be mad or disappointed.” His canines bite into his lower lip as he nods silently. You smile as your hand returns to his stomach to circle around his belly button.

He tenses his stomach, your eyes shoot up to his face, panicked he has regretted his decision. Instead, you hear a small laugh. “Sorry,” He smiled. “I’m a bit ticklish there.”

You relax your shoulders and smirk, that information will be fun for later. Now that you least had his attention you journey your hand further down to his straining bulge. A low groan leaves his lips as your hand slips under the elastic, he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

You drop your head to his chest, your eyes never leaving his as you drop a kiss on his covered nipple, the delicate bud hardening beneath the thin shirt. With your free hand you drag up his shirt, giving you free access to roam his abdomen, the soft muscle twitching under your touch.

You felt powerful, you had one of the strongest heroes of your generation trembling from your touch. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock as you suck his nipple into your mouth. He let out a choked sob at the contact.

You could barely wrap your hand around his girth as you grip the base. You slowly drag your hand up his shaft, circling the tip with your palm to wet it with his pre-cum. You lift your palm slowly, your fingers dragging along his tip until only your fingertips were touching him.

“Bunny,” He cries. “More please.”

You release his nipple from your mouth, his t-shirt soaked with your saliva. The material clung to the tightened bud, lewdly outlining the strained tip. Your hand on his cock didn’t stop stroking him.

“What do you want me to do baby?” You purr into his ear, his face a beautiful shade of pink.

“P-please Bunny I need more.” He begs, his dick pulsating in your hand. More precum leaked from his slit, making your stokes even easier as you tease his cock.

You drag your tongue up the side of his neck, “More of what?” You ask innocently.

“Oh no,” He shuttered, his hips thrusting into your hand. “Please Bunny can you hold me harder, I-I’m so close.” He reaches down and tries to wrap his hand around yours. You gently swat it away, there was no way you were going to let him steal this from you.

“Well, when you ask so nicely, who am I to refuse.” You smile as you release him from your hold. He lets out a weak sob at the loss of your touch. You silence him with a sloppy kiss in between his pecs. You slide down his slim frame, peppering small kisses as you make your journey.

Finally, you rested in between his legs. You peek up at his shocked face as he slowly comes to a realization of what you had planned. You grab the wait of his pants and pull down, freeing his straining cock from its prison.

You froze for a few seconds. It was one thing to feel his cock with your hands but seeing how large it was up close made you second guess your plan.

“B-Bunny,” A soft voice whispered. “Is it ok?” His voice held the same tone as when he showed you his quirk.

You smile, taking his length into your hands, “Yeah baby, everything is fine. You are just so big it surprised me.” You should have known; it was always the quiet ones.

“Now just relax baby,” You mumble against his cock, “Let me take care of you.”

Without giving him warning you glide your tongue up the length of his shaft, tracing one of the larger veins until you reach the tip. His head was covered by the thin skin of his foreskin. You lap at the small sit leaking pre-cum. Gently sucking on the tip as his back arched off the couch.

“Bunny, No one has ever. Oh god.” He cries. His hands digging into the pillows next to him.

You open your mouth wider, now taking his head fully into your mouth. You could feel his foreskin retract as you sucked on his length, letting your tongue tease the underside of his head. You use your hands to stroke him where your mouth couldn’t reach, their glide slickened with your saliva.

You couldn’t stop the moans being torn from your throat as you watched Amajiki slowly fall apart around your mouth. Tiny words of praise left his mouth as he looked down at you with awe. Your face flushed at his praise.

He reaches down and digs his fingers into the root of your hair, his hips now thrusting upwards into your mouth. Greedy boy. As he thrusts into your mouth you use your other hand to slide down his length and gently take the weight of his balls into your hand.

With a cry he pulls up on your hair, lifting your mouth free. You wipe the drool leaking down your chin with the back of your hand,” Is there a problem?” You ask in a hoarse voice.

“I was going to cum.” He pants, his chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath.

You tilt your head in confusion, “I know, that’s the whole point.”

He covered his face with his hands, “But it would have gotten in your mouth.” The red from his face spread down to dust his chest. It was adorable.

You lean down and kiss where his thigh met his hip, “I know, I want to taste you baby.”

He lowered his hand and looked down at you between his thighs, “You want to taste me?”

“Amajiki I want to do everything with you,” You hum. “Will you let me finish you off now baby, it would make me really happy.” You make sure not to move until he gives his approval, watching his face for any signs he wanted to stop.

He sucked in a deep breath and then nodded his head. “Will you make me cum?” His small voice asks, waiting for your approval.

Euphoria rushed through your body, “Yeah Amajiki, I’ll make you cum.” You encase him in your mouth once more, on a mission to get him to fall apart. His long fingers returning to hold the root of your hair. He held on like you were his anchor.

His deep black pupils dilated as he watched you take him into your mouth. A needy whine leaves his throat, “It’s too much, oh god, I can’t watch.”

You watched as he looked away from you to stare at the ceiling. You let out a huff of displeasure and relax your throat. If he wanted to look away, you would just have to give him something to look at. With a deep breath you slide your head down his length until he touches the back of your throat. The soft purple hair at his base teased the tip of your nose. Tears gathered at the sides of your eyes, but it was worth it when two panic-filled eyes met yours.

“Wait, Oh fuck.” He growls. “Bunny I’m cumming.” His fingers painfully tightened in your hair, but you didn’t care. His dick throbbed before his bitter taste fills your mouth. You watched with wonder as his entire body convulsed, his face full of ecstasy as you milked his cock for every drop of cum. His abs contracted with each burst; the slick muscles glistened in the soft lighting. You had never seen anything more beautiful than Amajiki shaking in pleasure from your touch.

“Bunny please, it's too much, please I can’t think.” He begs as his high slows down. With reluctance you let his cock slip from your mouth, the thick length glistening with a mix of his cum and your saliva. The sight filled you with need.

You crawl up his body and rest against his chest. You could hear his rapid heartbeat against your ear. When you looked up to meet his eyes they were glazed over, the poor boy was so tired. You press a soft kiss to his lips, not bothering to deepen this kiss. After being on patrol for twelve hours and then dealing with you he needed to rest.

He wrapped his arms around you, his body still shivering from the aftereffects of the orgasm you wrenched from him. Then his entire body tensed.

“Wait, you didn’t get to,” You raise your finger to his lips to silence him.

“I’m fine baby, you get some rest you earned it.” You run your hands through his hair, massaging the tender tissue.

“But-“He argued.

“Sh, why don’t we go lay down in your bed, I’m tired.” You lie, you could run a marathon you were so wound up.

“Ok,” He agreed weakly, his voice sleepy.

You wiggled out of his arms and turned off the tv. Amajiki stood on weak legs and walked with you to his room, his body leaning on yours as you made the short walk.

You didn’t bother to turn on the light when you entered his bedroom, you just walked until your knees hit the edge of his bed. You both plop down onto the soft sheets. He curls around your back, making you into a snug little spoon.

“Thank you, Bunny.” His mouth opens in a large yawn, “That felt really good. Just give me a few minutes and I can take care of you.” He pulls you in even close to him.

You lift his hand to your mouth and kiss his soft palm, “You’re welcome baby, sleep you need it, don’t worry about-“ You are interrupted with a soft snore. You shift your shoulder down and peek over to see Amajiki out like a light. You cover your mouth to silence your laughter, poor boy must have been exhausted, dealing with FatGum and the media all day really must have taken a toll.

You settle back to your side, thankful he was like a portable furnace, his body heat making the need for a blanket obsolete. You close your eyes and try to force yourself to sleep but the throbbing need that filled your body refused to calm down.

You slow your breathing, in and out, over and over again. Mind over matter you could do this, you did not need to get off. So what you had never in your life had this much need. You were not going to be selfish and wake up your very tired boyfriend just to get off. You have waited three months; you could wait until you get home to take care of this. Though when you finally leave here tomorrow you will have to stop by the store to buy more batteries, you’re so wound up it will take you hours to wind down.

You listen to his slow calm breathing in your ear. His entire body was lax against you. Soft sounds escaped his parted lips tormenting you. Why did his sleep sounds have to sound so sexy; it wasn’t fair. Were the sex gods punishing you for being so horny, taunting you with what could be to make you wallow in horny misery?

“Bunny,” A deep voice groaned into your ear, “I want you on my cock so bad.” You whip your head around, ready to rip your top off and jump on top of Amajiki only to see his eyes still closed.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” He was a dirty talker in his sleep, wonderful. You shove your hands in between your thighs and press up, hoping the contact would be enough. It wasn’t. His smell, his touch, his voice all filled your mind making calming down impossible. There was no way you were going to be able to sleep like this, it was impossible.

You raised the white flag, you had to take care of this problem before you did something you regret. Sneaking out of his hold you slitter down the bed, careful not to cause a dip before you plop to the floor. You peep over the side of the bed and watch for a sign that he noticed your absence. After a few seconds of nothing you were in the clear. Perfect, this would only take a few minutes and then you will be back in his arms and able to actually sleep.

You shove your hands out in front of you to use as a buffer as you walk blindly to the bathroom. Your fingertips made contact with the smooth wall, you use it to guide you to the door. Turning the knob as slow as you could you inch open the door. You turn sideways and sidestep into the dark bathroom.

Mission complete you flip on the light and turn on the shower to let the water heat up. You step out of his clothes and then stand under the heated stream of water. You let out a small moan as the warm water hit your skin still sensitive from the cold.

You needed to get this over quickly so you could return to his arms. After letting the water completely cover you, you take the showerhead off the stand. It wasn’t the most elegant way to get off but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Biting the bullet, you brace your back against the wall of the shower and spread open your legs. You shove your hand into your mouth as the pulsating water makes contact with your clit.

Closing your eyes, you could feel the warmth of pleasure begin to slowly build up. You were so wound up from earlier it wouldn’t take much to set you off at this point. Trusting yourself not to make a sound you move your hand from your mouth down to begin circling one of your nipples. Its soft peak stiffened inter the stimulation allowing you to pinch the bud between your fingers. You have to hold your breath to silence the moans that want to leave your throat.

In the back of your mind your thoughts begin to travel down a dangerous road. What would happen if Amajiki did catch you? You imagine how his eyes would widen in shock at the sight of your exposed pussy. Would he leave, too embarrassed to do anything? Or would he finally make the first move?

Maybe he would drag one of his long fingers through your slit, gathering your juices on his finger before bringing it to his mouth, savoring the flavor of your cunt. His want for you clouding his thoughts, filling him with lust for you.

A small whimper escaped your lips, you weren’t going to last. Abandoning your nipple you reach down and spread yourself open, desperate for more. You needed release so badly it hurt, and you were so close, just a few more seconds, “Amaji-“

A wave of cool air assaults your body. You look up and see two wide eyes staring directly at your exposed skin.

“Bunny?” Amajiki whispered, his eyes never leaving you.

You stood frozen, unable to move as your mind raced for an explanation. “Um, this, this isn’t what It looks like.” You say weakly, letting the showerhead slip from your hold.

“I heard you whimper, I thought you were in pain, so I ran in to check on you.” He takes a step closer to you, the showerhead spraying him with water. “I expected to find you in pain, but instead I find you playing with yourself in my shower.”

“I was just clean-“

“No, don’t lie to me. I’m not stupid. I told you when I woke up I would take care of you, but if you needed me that much why didn’t you just wake me up? It's like you always avoid letting me touch you. D-do you not like my touch?” His face crumpled as he spoke.

“No,” You yell in shock. How could you have messed up this bad, “I just didn’t want to push you too far, I know this is your first relationship and you may not have felt comfortable saying no. I was just trying to make sure you were always comfortable.”

“Not push me? Not feel comfortable? Bunny what are you talking about.” He steps even closer, his body now directly in the stream of water.

You shove your body harder against the wall, feeling more exposed than just your nakedness. “Nejire just made it clear that I needed to be careful not to cross any boundaries because you can get easily overwhelmed and I could make you do something you may not want to do.” You cross your arms over your chest wanting some kind of shield up.

Pure confusion filled his face, he tilted his head and stared at you for a few seconds as your words rang around in his head. “Wait so all this time you haven’t been touching me because you were trying to protect me from, you?”

“Yeah,” You agree weakly. “I wanted to do things with you so bad, but after my talk with Nejire I realized that I could hurt you so I held back. I never wanted to make you feel unwanted.” Your eyes started to feel heavy, Why did you always mess everything up?

“Bunny, don’t cry.” Amajiki gripped onto each of your wrists and lifted your hands to his face. “I’m not mad, I’m relieved.” He laughed, “All this time I was worried you weren’t attracted to me. So imagine my surprise when tonight you touch me like that. It blew my mind, and then I fell asleep.” He blushed, “When I woke up I thought you were crying in the shower and that I had messed up everything.”

He released your wrist and gently wrapped one hand around the column of your throat, feeling your pulse with his fingers, “I came in here ready for you to break up with me only to find you playing with yourself while moaning my name.”

Your heart began pounding against your chest. Amajiki had never talked like this before, well unless you counted in his sleep.

“Seeing you play with yourself as with my name on your lips was the sexiest thing I have ever seen in my life. Well, that and your lips around my cock.”

You choke at his words, what in the hell happened to your shy boyfriend?

“I can’t get that sight out of my mind, even in my dreams I see you.” His hand trailed down your body to your exposed chest. “You’re so beautiful Bunny,” His fingers circle the mound of your breast. “Perfect in every way, and all mine.”

He bent down, his mouth latching onto the sensitive skin of your throat. He sucked deep, drawing in your skin into his mouth. He stills for a few seconds letting your blood pool before releasing the now bruised skin.

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” He pushed your head to face the other side and repeated the marking. Covering your neck in his marks. “I’ve waited so long to be touched by you Bunny, but I didn’t want to scare you off either.”

His circling fingers close in on your nipples, teasing the outside of your bud before pinching them in between his fingers, “The things I wanted to do to you weren’t normal. A good girl like you would run away screaming from the fantasies I had.”

Your breathing froze, “Fantasies?”

One long purple tentacle grew from his pointer finger, its suction cup latched onto your nipple. Its pull strong as it sucked your nipple in pulses as if he was using his mouth on you.

“I’ve wanted to play with you just like this, have you cry out my name in pleasure over and over again until you were too tired to do anything but fall asleep with my cock still inside you.” More tentacles sprouted from his finger and latched onto your other nipple.

“That’s not too crazy,” You say breathlessly.

“I guess you’re right, but that’s not all I wanted to do. I want to use my quirk to fill each one of your holes, leave you a sobbing mess unable to do anything but beg for more.”

You manage to use your last working brain cell to respond, “Then what’s stopping you?”

His mouth twists into a predatory grin. He releases your nipples from his hold as he sank to his knees. “Well, first I need to make sure my Bunny is ready, after all, I am quite ‘big’.” He wraps his hand around the meat of your thigh and lifts it over his shoulder, making you rest your hands on his shoulder for balance.

His tentacles wrap around each leg stabilizing your footing, making you completely dependent on him. You could feel his warm breath on your sex, as he leans in, inspecting your pussy.

“So wet, all for me.” He stuck out his tongue, licking a long-wet streak up your inner thigh, lapping up the juices that had soaked them. His tentacles tighten around your leg, you know the small suction cups will leave hickeys all over, but you didn’t care. You liked the idea of him covering your body with his mark, claiming you as his.

When his tongue was done cleaning your thighs, he turned his attention to your soaking cunt. He sucked one lip into his mouth, cleaning off your essence before turning to the next one to repeat the action.

“You taste so good on my tongue Bunny, I just want to devour you,” He growls as tentacles latch onto your lips, spreading you wide open for his view.

His face disappeared as his hot, wet tongue dragged up your sex. He groaned into your pussy, the vibrations sending tingling pleasure through your entire body. His lips enclose your clit, laying sloppy kisses on the sensitive bud. Your back arches off the shower wall and you dig your fingers into his hair to try and anchor yourself.

He pulls his head back to look up at you, “Now Bunny, I’ve never done this before, so you’re going to have to tell me what you like.”

He expected you to think? “Amajiki, please.”

He smirked, “What do you want me to do baby?”

You probably deserved that. You reach down and grab hold of one of his tentacles exploring your body. You drag it down to your sex and take the narrow tip between your fingers. You blush as you see him watching every move with interest.

You rub the tentacle along the side of your clit, its smooth texture much better than the roughness of your fingers, “I like being touched on this side.” You make lazy circles around your bud, “This movement is nice too, just don’t go too fast.”

He nods his focus like he was studying for an exam, he gently swats away your hand, but his tentacle stays, repeating the actions you just showed him. You let out a loud whine as an immediate rush of pleasure goes through your body, he was a quick learner.

His tentacle ventures lower circling your entrance as his lips return to your clit. Their soft texture is a stark contrast to his rough tongue. He sucked your bud deep into his mouth at the same time his tentacle breached your entrance.

Wanton moans are ripped from your throat as the tip of his tongue traces the side of your pearl. Your mind could barely process the pleasure being wrenched from your body; all you could do was hold on for the ride. His tentacle grows larger inside you, forcing your hole to stretch to accommodate its girth. He was getting you ready to take him.

With a pop he releases the suction on your clit, “You taste so good bunny, how have we never done this before?”

“Tease,” You growl, wanting nothing more than to finally have your release. He looks up at you with mock shock.

“If you wanted more Bunny you could have just asked.” Taking advantage of your surprised state at his words a tentacle slowly slips into your ass.

“Hey,” You yelp at the Intrusion. The tentacle pauses, giving you time to adjust to its invasion before it starts to thicken inside you.

“I told you I wanted to fill every hole, didn’t I? Now please sit still and let me finish my meal, I am absolutely famished.”

His touch was relentless, the tentacle inside your pussy curled up to tease that spot inside you just right as his tongue returned to your clit. It was too much; you were too full. Your vision began to fill with stars and your head grew light.

“Cum on my tongue Bunny,” He begged as he gently bit down on your clit. That was all it took. Every muscle in your body tenses as the rope inside you snapped. Your foot loses its grip on the ground but Amajiki tentacles simply hold you in the air as wave after wave of brutal pleasure crashes into you.

His tongue mercilessly teases the side of your clit not letting up as you convulse in his hold. Unable to move you could only trust in his hold and let him work you up to another high before you could come down from the first.

You try to reach down and grab his hair to pry him away from your pussy, but his tentacles wrap around your wrists and lifts them above your head, leaving you defenseless as he feasts. The tentacles inside you thicken once more, filling you to the brim.

“Please, baby, it’s too much, I can’t,” Your pleas fell on deaf ears as your body begins to tense once more. A silent scream leaves your lips as the world around you burst. Your entire body was exploding, tingling with pleasure. You gasp for air as the euphoria finally dissipates. Your vision is still clouded with bursts of white light.

Small aftershocks make your body twitch as Amajiki finally abandons your clit. Your body goes lax. You slowly fall back to earth, cradled in his warm hold. Amajiki stands to his full height and looks down at your limp body. His mouth and chin glistened, wet with your cum.

“Let's take this somewhere else.” His tentacles lift you effortlessly and carry you back to his bed. Both of your bodies dripping wet, but you didn’t care.

As he lowered you onto the bed, the slick tentacle in your pussy shrank in size before sliding out of you, leaving you feeling empty. You whine at the loss, wanting him back inside you.

“Sh,” He licked up your throat. “Relax, I’m going to take good care of my Bunny.” He wrapped your legs around his hips and pulled you in close until your ass rested in his lap. His hands pushed on your knees, opening your legs even wider, the position gave him the perfect view.

He presses his lips to your cheek, “I’m going to fill you now Bunny, Let me know if I hurt you ok?” He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes staring into yours as he grabbed his cock to nudge your entrance. You don’t look away from his face as his thick cock slowly sinks inside you. You hiss in a breath at the slight burn from being stretched open. He pauses halfway allowing you time to adjust to his size.

“Oh fuck Bunny.” Amajiki growls, “You’re so tight and hot around me.” His hips lifted, slowly dragging his dick out of you before shallowly thrusting back, each thrust deeper than the last until he finally filled you completely.

You wrap your arms around his shoulder, giving you leverage to lift your hips in time with his thrusts. His soft hair ticked your forehead as small water droplets drop off the ends of the strands, dripping onto your face.

The tentacle in your ass came to life, as his cock would fill you, it would leave, making sure you were always full.

Holy fuck.

It was too much you could feel heat already start to gather in your stomach. A feeling of dread washed over you, it was too strong. You push your hands against his chest to shove him away, there was no way you could survive this. You were already too sensitive.

You let out a sob, “Please baby, It’s too much.”

He brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, “Just a little bit longer Bunny, Be a good girl for me a little bit longer.”

Damn, he didn't play fair. How could you say no when he put it like that. You bury your head in his shoulder and try to remember to breathe. His thrust grew even stronger, his hips pounding into you, shaking the bed from their power.

“Ah-ha,” You yelp. He takes advantage of your open mouth, a long purple tentacle slips into your mouth, silencing your cries. You wrap your lips around the invading tentacle as it thrusts in your mouth, giving you only a few seconds to breathe each time.

Your vision grew hazy, the lack of oxygen making your brain grow fuzzy. Your mind began to shut down, unable to process everything happening to you. The only thing keeping you stuck on earth was his touch. He was everywhere. There was no part of you that he had not touched.

“That’s it Bunny, You look so beautiful taking my cock.” He moaned, his thrusts growing slower and deeper.

Fuck you were close, but any touch on your abused clit would torture, there was no way he was going to be able to push you over the threshold. You were in limbo, unable to jump over the final hurdle.

You look at him with panic in your eyes, this is impossible.

“The dinner you brought was fantastic, I think we should put it to good use.” His black eyes glowed with excitement before a sharp shock jolted through your body.

What in the hell was that?

The sharp shock jolted through your body again, its range narrowing before the tentacles inside you started to tingle. You tried to think back to what he ate, he always ate takoyaki while on patrol, maybe some clams, and, oh no. The poke bowl, you fed him eel.

“There we go it took me a few tries to get the hang of it there,” The tingle in your pussy grew stronger, the feeling like static inside you. The electric shocks were enough, your vision began to grow white as the strongest orgasm of the night ripped through your body.

You tighten your legs around his waist as you lose yourself to the brutal waves of pleasure that rose through you, each one stronger than the last. Aamjiki didn't stop the small shocks, they overloaded your mind, milking the orgasm from your body. Every cell in your body was overcome with pleasure, unable to do anything but feel as you slowly started to return to the world.

Your vision regions focus just in time to watch as Amajiki’s face contorts in pleasure, his dick pulsing as he shoots hot cum deep inside you. His soft moans fill your ears as he shatters. With the little energy you had left you stroke his soft hair as he fell down slowly from his high. His entire body trembling above you.

You both lay still like that for a few minutes, the only sound in the room was your breathing. The entire world around you was still, as if you were the last people on earth. With a groan Amajiki is the first to move, withdrawing his tentacles until only his cock connects you to him.

He rolled off the top of you onto his side before pulling you against his chest. Your body was still trembling as you recovered. You could feel his release begin to leak out, that is a problem for tomorrow.

He presses soft kisses to your neck, tracing with his lips the marks his quirk has left covering your body.

“You are so precious,” He mumbles against your skin.

You turn your body to face him, you trace up the column of his neck, “Finding you was the best thing that ever happened to me.” You say the words effortlessly needing him to know how much you care.

His face flushes a beautiful shade of pink. It seems his shyness had finally returned. You snuggle into his chest, his body heat eliminating the need for a blanket. You were radiating happiness, your body after months of want was finally satisfied, well for now at least.

“Bunny, I don’t ever want to be without you again,” Amajiki said in a weak voice, “I think you should move in.”

You snap your head up to look at him, ”You want me to move in?”

He nods his head weakly, “I was going to ask you tomorrow, but after tonight I couldn't wait.” He looks down nervously, unsure how you were going to react, after all you had only been with him three months.

Your eyes fill with tears, “You want me to move in.” You repeat, shocked that he was asking.

“Y-You don't have to if you don't want to, I just liked the idea of falling asleep with you in my arms every night.” His eyes were full of uncertainty as he waited for you to answer.

You tried to think of any reason this was a bad idea, but after tonight you had no doubts, you wanted this man in your life.

“Yes, I want to move in with you.” You throw your arms around his shoulders and pull him into a kiss. This was the best gift you had ever received.

He pulls away from your kiss, “Are you sure, because I don't want you to feel pressured-”

You kiss him again, “Yes I’m sure, Nothing would make me happier than being able to spend more time with you.”

A stunning smile spread across his face, he leaned in close and kissed your forehead. “I love you Bunny.”

Your eyes grew wet, “I love you too.”

There is no sight more beautiful than Amajiki's face when you said those three little words to him. You decided at that moment you would spend the rest of your life making sure he would make that face every day.

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Interesting Encounters

Corpse Husband *& Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Paranoia and Fear of Invasion of Privacy

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Corpse has an interesting run-in with his regular delivery girl, having the chance to talk to her for the first time despite her having been delivering to his door for months. It’s a big step in overcoming his anxiety and paranoia when talking to strangers.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! Hope you come across the final product of your request and give it a read and if so I hope you like it! Sorry for the wait, I hope it was worth it though! Love, Vy ❤

It’s a regular Monday morning, close to 10AM and Corpse’s face is practically glued to the sound editing app he’s downloaded, playing around with some cool effects to add to his voice in the background of the new song he’s been working on. He hasn’t been able to sleep a wink thanks to the immense excitement, not that he would’ve been able to regardless, but the tune and the lines have been stuck in his head all throughout the weekend and he knows they’ll be bothering him until he turns them into something other people will be able to listen and give an opinion on as well. So far he’s done plenty of work but there’s plenty more to go until it’s done. He’s at that point he usually needs feedback and wants to ask for it but would rather not to avoid either too harsh judgement or fake praise.

He slides the headset off, deciding to take a break for the sake of his sanity before he drives himself to insanity with the intensity of his focus on this new piece. His brain just so conveniently sends him a reminder that his groceries are probably waiting for him outside the door. He has, as of the last half a year or so, had someone deliver his groceries to him to avoid trips to the grocery store with both the whole pandemic situation and the growth of following which translates to growth of the risk of him getting recognized. That’s the main reason - and maybe the only one - as to why he doesn’t interact with the people who deliver to him either. He always gives his delivery person the instruction to leave whatever he’s ordered at the doorstep and if it’s not takeout to not even ring the doorbell.

That being said, the deliverer of his groceries doesn’t ring the doorbell to give him the kind reminder to be responsible, but luckily he hasn’t forgotten to collect them yet in the six months he’s been practicing this delivery technique.

Going to the front door and looking out of the peephole, he confirms there are several full plastic bags waiting to be picked up on the mat. With the person who brought them not in sight, Corpse unlocks the door and steps out to bring in the groceries for the week. Taking them to the kitchen, he unpacks the goods in the three bags. At first glance he would’ve been fooled, seeing as how it seems that all he has ordered is there. But, each Monday, he receives exactly four bags of groceries. One is missing. He rolls his eyes thinking he didn’t see it outside and left it there while he was hurriedly collecting the rest so he gets up to go grab it real quick.

While in the meantime...

Y/N looks through the remainder of bags in her minivan, making a route in her head for what roads and shortcuts she can take to deliver the last of the groceries to the respective homes they need to be taken to. Upon looking through them, however, she sees a bag labeled ‘MM’ that she uses short for ‘Mystery Man’, aka the guy who never opens the door to greet her whenever she delivers him anything. She works for several delivery services such as takeout, groceries, clothes even and has delivered to that apartment hundreds of times but has never met the resident, giving her the right to call him Mystery Man, aka ‘MM’.

“Ah, shit.“ She mumbles under her breath, realizing she failed to grab the fourth bag when on her way up to MM’s apartment.

Coming to terms with the fact that she’ll have to lose another five minutes going back up to his floor, she grabs the bag and takes off running back inside the building and up the stairs, deciding it would be quicker than taking the elevator.

Just as she arrives to the floor, heading straight for the door, it opens, freezing her in her tracks as her eyebrows shoot up. At the doorstep stands a guy with an eye patch who looks more surprised and maybe even a little terrified than her. Taking in that Mystery Man is not such a mystery anymore, she returns to her professionalism, remaining at a distance and outstretching the hand holding the bag towards him.

“Sorry, forgot to drop this one off as well, I’m a bit all over the place today.“ She says in her most professional voice.

Corpse too regains his composure and takes the handed bag from Y/N gloved hand. Before he can think twice about it he says, “Thanks, uh...”

“Y/N.“ She says, “I’ve delivered to you countless times, it’s funny you don’t know my name but it’s to be expected since I’ve never seen you. This would be a good time to tell me your name so I don’t have to call you Mystery Man anymore.“ She laughs, cutting her own laughter off barely a second later when she realizes what she’s said, “Oh, fucking shit...”

Corpse chuckles, clear amusement in the sound, “Mystery Man? Interesting, interesting. If I ever become a superhero I’ll make sure to pick that name.” He fails to even pay mind to the fact that he’s spoken a lot more than he’d usually feel comfortable with.

Y/N laughs a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck, “Yeah, sorry about that. I promise to come up with a better one if you’re not willing to tell me your real one. Like....Pirate, for example?” she suggests, raising her shoulders.

He can’t help but let out a laugh, “You’d be surprised, but my name is not so far from your mark. It’s, um....” He’s not looking forward to the judgmental look or the questions he might receive in response to his statement but he succumbs to the expected disappointment, “My name’s Corpse.”

Surprisingly, she just smiles - a smile he cannot see due to the surgical mask she’s wearing but the crinkle at the corners of her eyes gives it away. “Cool! Well, I better get going then.”

Just as she turns to head for the elevator this time, seeing as she’s still out of breath from the run up the stairs, Corpse gets an idea he’d probably not be too fond of if he gave himself time to think it over. Which is exactly why he didn’t.

“Hey!“ He calls after her, gaining her attention immediately, causing her to turn around, “You got a minute? I need a little help with something...“

Y/N’s eyebrows raise a little, a moment before she shrugs her shoulders, “Meh, I’m already behind schedule, what’s an extra minute gonna do?” And just like that, they strut their way back towards his apartment.

He can’t help but chuckle, taking the opportunity to crack a joke, “This is how people often get killed. You don’t just walk into a stranger’s apartment like that.”

She scoffs as she passes the threshold, “Believe it or not, you can learn a lot about a person based on the groceries they buy. And trust me buddy, you’re not a murderer.” Earning herself a laugh and a nod with that remark, she continues, “You do appear to be an artist with all the cheap food you’re buying though.”

Corpse laughs yet again, a hint of nervousness is sensed in his laugh this time around though, “Yeah, well, I don’t know if you’re still gonna call me an artist when you hear this song I’ve been working on. Not even out of the box yet.”

Y/N stops in her tracks, “Well, well, well, aren’t I honored to be one of the lucky people hearing this before its release.”

“The first hearing it before its release.“ He corrects her with a pointed look, not missing the excitement that arose in her eyes.

“Let’s hear it then!“

Of all the friendship stories that exist, no one can say this ain’t a unique one.

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danniburgh · 3 years

Text

Boca del Diablo (Javier Peña x f!reader)

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: I was wrong but I was doing it right; and we would steal each other’s grief, we were thin but we were thick as thieves; you gotta hold me down, ‘cause I might slip away, slip into the past.

Word count: +5.7k

Warnings: ANGST, you guys this is AWFULLY SAD, so, beware. mentions of alcohol and drinking.

A/N: oh god, okay; this is technically a ficsong, based and inspired by Mouth of the Devil by Mother Mother. also, the first time i heard that song i knew it was SO made for Javier Peña, i couldn’t just not write something based on it... I JUST COULDNT. im not sorry. also also i wanna thank my forbidden kitties @ezrasbirdie and @starlightmornings for proofreading and telling me it makes sense, love you so much guys. Jesus Christ Superstar i really should stop hurting javi huh.

Masterlist // Read on ao3 // ko-fi

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓

gif: @javierpcna

The first thing Javier did when he arrived to Laredo was tour his house around; he walked around the living room, looking at all the pictures his dad had hung onto the walks, he took his time to admire all the faces and the expressions and the situations; he took the time to reminisce about moments of his life he hadn’t given himself the time before to reminisce. He walked the narrow hallways of the house he grew up in.

It was like meeting the house again, even if after leaving he had visited, even if he knew exactly what was in what corner, even if he still remembered that stash of cigarettes he had hidden under a wooden panel in the floor when he was seventeen; he was familiarizing himself again with it; like the prodigal son coming back to a place he had forgotten because he need to forget it.

He discovered that day, after not living in that place for over thirteen years, that it was timeless.

It was as if the house itself was a spot in time that hadn’t moved; as if the place it was built on was rooted down so far into the ground that not even distance or time changed it.

The second thing Javier did when he arrived to Laredo was sleep.

He told Chucho he wouldn’t eat the dinner he had made and that he preferred to eat it for lunch the next day and just shut himself into his old room and slept for twelve hours.

When Javier woke up, he didn’t feel rested, but his mind had stopped reeling from all those excruciatingly exhaustive thoughts he had been carrying with him since he packed up the close to ten years he spent in Colombia into three suitcases and spent three hours inside a plane and two hours driving down from the airport.

In the twelve hours he slept, he didn’t dream at all, and for he was grateful to be so tired that his brain just had shut down for half a day; he didn’t need the constant reminders of what his life decisions had turned into. He didn’t need to dream about the pain he saw, tamed, and caused.

Javier didn’t want to go out of the house at all; because he knew there would be people that asked him about his doings like he was some kind of hero; they would ask him details about the things he did in what they called South America, details he wasn’t ready to even remember, as he wasn’t even ready to correct them; that it wasn’t South America, that it was just Colombia. As if he didn’t want to ruin their perceptions of him; when in reality he didn’t even want to be perceived.

The first time Javier went out of the house he drove to a convenience store that was there since before he was born; another proof that everything in that town he so wanted to get out of and leave behind him as a kid was timeless and immovable.

That time he forgo the cigarettes, as he was decided to try to quit smoking once again; and as he was walking out of the store with a plastic bag full of crap he shouldn’t eat and stuff he didn’t really need, across the street he saw you.

Javier just stood there, like a newly put statue, he watched you hop into a truck he was sure wasn’t yours or your dad’s and as the truck drove away with you in your pretty short sundress inside, he knew, once again, that he was completely and utterly screwed.

He had frozen in place because in that time, in the two minutes it took you to leave, the only thing that invaded his mind was what he did to you.

The second time Javier went out of the house, he had decided to visit some of his old friends that still lived in Laredo; the ones that, unlike him, had stayed there for reasons he, at the short age of twenty, didn’t really understand, but years later, at what he considered the middle of his life, comprehended at last.

None of them asked about Colombia; and, while he was grateful, he was sure it was because one of them told the others not to.

It was as if the subject of him working there had become a taboo; something that they spoke about and debated amongst themselves when he wasn’t there, and he preferred it that way.

Javier was enjoying the time he spent remembering stuff that hadn’t gotten people killed; he liked the feeling of nostalgia that sharing old stories and old experiences with friends made him heel; until someone mentioned you.

He learned then that what had gone down between you and him had also become a taboo; something only his and your generations and the parents of your mutual friends knew about but never said a thing, something that, as in most small towns happened, was a topic that someone brought up when they saw you walk by, or Lorraine, or his dad.

He had even escaped being the prompter of his own fall out being discussed by people on the narrow streets of downtown Laredo.

Javier also learned then that you were a month away from getting married.

The first emotion Javier felt when he heard the words “she's getting married on the fifteenth” was rage; not at you or at your husband to be, but at himself. Because he knew that if he had played his cards right, he would be the one you were sharing your life with.

The second emotion Javier felt was a profound, almost abysmal regret. Because if he had stayed put for thirty-six months he would've been the one you would’ve married. Because if he had stopped his unhealthy, obsessive desire to leave everything he knew and looked at you with all the love he felt for you, he wouldn’t have done what he did. But it was way too late to realize it.

The third emotion Javier felt was sadness. Because even when he had made sense of what he did and convinced himself he was doing the right thing, even when he was doing it wrong, the outcome had been the opposite of what he wanted.

He ruined his life trying to get a better one.

Javier had one too many beers that night and excused himself from the reunion; as he drove away he pulled over because there was an overwhelming question dragging itself from his brain to his chest and settled there like a rusty nail perforating his skin: when was the last time he had thought about you?

There was a difference that he noticed there; as he sat inside his truck in the middle of the country road with the crickets replying to the others and a few car noises at the distance; one thing was wondering about what was of you, asking himself in the little idle times he had in his job if you were doing fine, if you were mad at him, if you were happy, and another, polarizing, totally opposite thing was thinking about you and the years you spent together.

He avoided it.

Thinking about you consoling him with your body when words weren't enough, you understanding him to the deep ends of his persona, you, knowing him exactly as he was, as young as he was, complete as he wasn’t. You meeting him in vulnerability, in nudity, in cynicism, even meeting him in drinking and getting drunk with him every other weekend just to laugh about nothing and fuck like bunnies.

You and the perfect aura and the immaculate energy you exude at all times and that when he was inside you, he felt you share with him.

He avoided it because he knew that he didn’t deserve to get any of it back; but Jesus how much he wanted it.

So Javier decided, inside his semi-alcoholized head, that he had to do what he didn’t do when he had the chance.

He turned the truck back on and gave an U turn that he knew would get him fined if someone had seen him and drove back to where he came from.

He drove by muscle memory. Even after sixteen years he still knew the way and could drive with his eyes closed if he felt brave enough.

But he wasn’t feeling brave or encouraged or self assured; everything he was feeling as he drove was a heavy, disorienting need to fix what he broke.

Or try to.

He got into the driveway and started honking like a crazy man inside the afternoon traffic of the city; someone had to come out at some point.

And you did.

Javier couldn’t identify the emotions he felt when he saw you opening the door of your house or what he felt when he noticed your expression as you recognized the truck and him inside it. He couldn’t name the exact feeling of his chest tugging when you stood there, on your porch, dead on your feet, a hand covering your mouth when he got out of the truck.

He saw you see him; your face paled as he walked up to you, your eyes widened open, he felt like an apparition and guessed he was; nothing but an unwanted sight of a past he was sure you wanted to forget.

He noticed the simple and complex emotions your eyes poured out as he tried to say hi to you with a hand wave.

And even then, half drunk, standing on your porch after who knows how many years, he knew it was something that was supposed to happen.

“What… what are you doing here?” was the first question you asked him, Javier didn’t even have a response to it.

“If I say the truth you wouldn’t want to listen to me.” he said. He saw you shaking your head slightly and looked at you with clinical eyes.

It was as if the time hadn’t passed through you; you were still as beautiful as he remembered you. As terrifyingly gorgeous as the first time he saw you when he crashed your nineteenth party with his friends from college; as inexplicably stunning as a twenty-two year old guy could make sense of.

“What do you want?” was the second question you asked him, and Javier wanted so many things he didn’t know which one to say first.

He looked at you with that expression you had on your face the first and the last time you said goodbye to each other.

“Can we talk?” he replied, you looked at him and bit your lower lip and Javier had to close his eyes because he wanted to do that himself.

“Sure.” you muttered, Javier nodded a few times as he opened his eyes and you had crossed your arms tight on your chest.

“Can we go somewhere else?” he asked, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his jeans.

You stood quiet again as he guessed you were pondering your reply, and he felt like he was asking you to go out with him two weeks after your birthday party.

“Where?” was the third question you asked him “I’m kinda busy.”

“Just for a drive, please.” Javier heard himself begging, but didn’t really care for it.

“I–I don’t th–”

“Please,” he cut you off, “I just… fuck, I just need to talk to you.” he sighed out.

Javier couldn’t stand the look you were giving him, he couldn’t bear the feeling that your eyes on him were giving him because he had a specific memory of you looking at him with a shine in your eyes he didn’t see anymore as you stood in front of him and he was hating it.

“Okay,” you murmured, “let me go get my bag.”

He nodded, and you turned around and walked back inside. You didn’t close the front door and from where he was standing, he could see some parts of the house and some chat inside he couldn’t make out.

He wasn’t half drunk anymore; the weight of the emotions he was feeling were enough to sober him up. But he knew, as he stood there waiting for you, with the most pressing feeling he had felt in decades, hitching his breath and cutting his flow of air, that it was most probably that he wouldn’t get what he wanted. And that was scraping at the well-manicured mask he had built for himself.

You walked out of the house with your bag hanging from your shoulder and gave him a brief glance as you walked to his truck. He let out a heavy sigh and jogged a bit to catch up.

Javier didn’t know where he was driving to. He just didn’t think you would say yes, so he didn’t bother to think of a place to take you; he knew you’d appreciate going somewhere without many people. As you were less than a month away from your wedding and Laredo was a place where if the wrong person saw you walking around with your ex, bad shit could happen.

The truck’s engine roaring was the only thing that made any noise. You were sitting on the opposite side of the seat, all but glued to the window, avoiding to look at him; he understood it; he didn’t even know why you had said yes in the first time.

Javier was still thinking of a place to stop the truck, and as you stirred on the seat, he saw a familiar deviation with an old, tattered, fainted wooden sign on the edge pointing to the right that read Boca del Diablo, leading to a narrow dirt path surrounded by semi-overgrown wild plants.

He turned there and saw you stiffen on your side of the seat out of the corner of his eyes; he wanted to ask you if you remembered the place but instead you glared at him.

“What are we doing here, Javier?” you asked. He wouldn’t admit even to himself that he felt his stomach turn around itself when he heard his name being pronounced by you.

“You remember this place?” he asked anyway as he drove to where the dirt path became a wide opening that led to the edge of a cliff.

“What is it to remember?” you muttered in response, Javier pulled over and turned to you.

“Well, this was our place.” he shrugged slightly and turned off the ignition.

“No, this wasn’t our place,” you murmured, looking back at him, “it was a place where every single couple in Laredo came to make out.”

Javier huffed and nodded a couple of times, he noticed the way you were looking at him and, even in the darkness of the open country and the inside of the truck, he could see the way your brow was furrowing slightly, he wished to know what you were thinking.

“We made it ours.” he whispered back.

“Javier,” you sighed out, he knew you were getting exasperated “fucking in the back of your truck hardly was making a place ours.”

Your words made something inside him sting. He wondered if his actions had made you shift the meaning of your memories; he wouldn’t find it hard to believe.

“Why are you here?” you asked him, Javier was looking for your eyes but he found them outside, on the walnut tree you and him used as shade when you came there before the sunset.

“It made sense,” he replied. You scoffed and turned to face him, Javier saw your eyes water in front of him and took a deep breath “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Right.” Javier saw you take a deep breath and swallow your tears. He wanted to hug you but instead gripped the steering wheel with a hand.

“You’re getting married.” he said, not as a question, but matter-of-factly.

“Yeah.”

“Can I ask why?” you bit your lip with a smirk on your face and Javier felt his chest compress.

“You really wanna know?” your voice was low and soft but it weighed on him like an anvil. He nodded. “I finally found someone brave enough to stay.” you replied with a shrug.

“I stayed.” Javier let out before he could stop himself and you glared at him with a frown.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his lids with the heel of his hand; he knew he was bad with the kind of conversations he wanted to have with you, and he knew you knew as well. But he still wanted to ask you so many things he didn’t even know he was curious about.

He knew exactly the moment he had fucked his and your lives, but he hadn’t stayed to look at the aftermath.

“You stayed,” you retorted “but you didn’t wait.”

“I know.”

“Why?” you asked him, now chasing for his eyes, Javier shook his head a couple of times and you shifted on the seat so you could face him with your body as well “why you didn’t wait?” you asked in a whisper.

“I don’t know.” he replied in a low voice and frowned when your reaction was to laugh.

As you looked around the truck’s cabin with that cynic smile of yours adorning your face, Javier saw a single tear rolling through your cheek that you didn’t bother to wipe off.

“You don’t know?” you let out a sob that sounded like a laugh, “you don't know why you threw away seven years of our lives?” he shook his head, and you opened your mouth in feigned amusement “seven years, Javier, unbelievable.”

“I tried to figure it out but I just couldn’t,” he murmured at you when you threw your head back and sniffed “it made sense at the time.”

“That’s bullshit.” you shrugged.

“It is.”

“I…” Javier started, he tried to find the correct words to phrase what he wanted to say “I know that what I did wasn’t good or an–”

“Wasn’t good?” you cut him off “that’s not really how I would phrase it, Javier.”

“I know, I’m trying, okay?”

“It doesn’t look like it,” you whispered again and rolled your eyes at the tears Javier could see flooding your eyes “you didn’t wait for me, you didn’t even try!”

“I did! I swear I did, but I wa–”

“Everyone knew us, Javier,” you cut him off again and he sighed “everybody in town thought that we would be that couple that stayed together forever,” you snarled as two thick tears made their way from your eyes to your cheeks and he had to refrain himself from leaning and brush them off “I thought that too.”

“Please,” he sighed. You shook your head slowly.

“And now, after what? twenty years? you com–”

“Sixteen.” he interrupted.

“What?”

“After sixteen years, it’s been sixteen years.” he muttered.

“Right, sixteen,” you huffed again and licked your lips. Javier remembered that little gesture as a sign of nervousness when you were barely an adult, “after all that time, you come back to break into my life,” you raised your hands in question, Javier chewed the inside of his cheek “for what? why?”

“Today Matt told me you were getting married,” he said, you rolled your eyes at him and Javier shifted slightly closer to you on the seat “I just knew I needed to see you first,” he saw you see through him and he felt once again like an apparition “I just realized I never stopped thinking about you.”

“Stop it,” you raised a finger to him, Javier stiffened up “don’t do that,” you shook your head at him “because when you should’ve thought about me, and about us, you didn’t,” Javier nodded his chin a few times “you don’t get to do that to me,” you sniffed and he closed his eyes when your voice started shaking “not after everything, not after you promised me you’d wait and then finding someone else.”

“I didn’t find her,” Javier opened his eyes as he said it, you rolled your eyes at him again, “I wasn’t even looking for someone else.”

“You’re lying,” you shook your head again, Javier mirrored the action, “don’t lie to me, that’s the only thing I’m asking, don’t lie.”

“You know I don’t like lying, I’m not.” he whispered, you let out a sob.

“Then what the fuck happened? huh?” you shifted closer “I asked for one thing, I asked you to wait, you knew I left town to do what I wanted, what happened that made you run to Lorraine?”

Javier moved closer to you and threw every sense of courtesy and respect out of the window; he grabbed you by the shoulders and pressed you against him. You didn’t try to fight him and he took it as a good sign, but you didn’t hug him back.

Your head rested on his collarbone and he could smell the softness of your shampoo, and wondered in the back of your head if you used the same strawberry conditioner he liked so much.

“Y’know,” you said, shifting your head so you could breathe “Lorraine and I talked when I came back,” Javier hummed in surprise but felt his body shiver at the thought of you and Lorraine sharing the only thing you two had in common with each other; him, “we tried to make sense of what happened but never actually could… what happened?”

“I wish I knew.” he whispered against your hair and felt you shiver, you buried your face in his chest.

“It’s not fair that you don’t know,” you muttered out, your voice being muffled by his shirt and his skin and him and he gripped you tighter “it’s not fair because I’ve been asking myself that question all this time.”

“I tried to make sense out of it,” he broke the brief silence that formed around you, his words like a knife that was sharp enough to mull but not cut, “I thought I was doing the right thing, even if I was doing it wrong.”

You separated from him suddenly and he immediately missed the warmth of your body on him; it was as if he had never stopped holding you.

“Help me understand this,” you murmured, “I left town to do something you knew I wanted to do for so long,” you recounted in a low, deep voice, Javier nodded, “I left with the promise that you would wait here, that it was my turn of doing something I wanted and that you would be here waiting for me, it was only three years, you told me you’d wait,” he nodded his head again, trying to shove away the need of breaking down as you did “but as soon as I crossed the state line you ran to Lorraine,” you said, Javier opened his mouth but you raised your hand to him before he could pronounce a word; he hated that your version was like that, he hated it, “you started dating her saying nothing to me, and I had to find out, because my dad saw you kissing her inside this same truck,” Javier saw you close your eyes in pain as another pair of charged tears fell from them “and he called me to tell me to never come back, and you’re telling me it was the right thing?” you shook your head and Javier felt his throat close at the sight of your face quirked in pain from an old wound he just reopened “what was I to you tha–”

“Everything,” he cut you off, you sighed “you were everything to me,” he cleared his throat and begged his brain for some reason and sense so he could explain to you and give you what he thought you needed to know “and you didn’t deserve me making you responsible for my own well being.”

He saw you frown as you wiped away the tears you had shed.

“That doesn’t make sense, Javier.”

“Think about it, miel,” he tried to explain, barely noticing he had slipped the old nickname he had given you when the first time he kissed you and whispered that your lips were as sweet as honey, he brushed it off and looked at you and your unsure eyes and your bouncy leg and he was regretting everything he had done in his life up to that point until he saw you tilt your head, asking him silently to continue “we were young and stupid and we were both vulnerable,” he reminisced and you nodded ever so slightly “when we met we had lost a lot and I instantly became dependent on you and you know it,” you nodded again, another tear rolling out, he raised his hand and brushed it off, his hand stayed on your cheek, cupping your face, “the only reason I was living and breathing for was you and I knew you didn’t deserve to be the reason I was alive,” he leaned closer “you didn’t deserve to be anything else than my girlfriend.”

You let out a soft sob and looked at him with dovey, dampened eyes, his own were watering as well.

“I’ve always regretted the way I dealt with things, and I’ve always wondered what would be of us if I talked to you instead.” he whispered and then you leaned to rest your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his middle.

Javier almost cradled you. He wrapped his arms around you too as you tried to drown your sobs and he felt the cold sting of a tear making its way out of his eye.

“You ran away.” you whispered, he nodded.

“I did,” he agreed and barely heard you asking why “everything fell on me out of the blue,” he shrugged with you still resting on his shoulder and his hand started gently rubbing your back “Lorraine almost forced me to propose, your dad was so mad at me he stopped doing business with my dad,” he explained, you hummed in affirmation “so my dad was mad at me too,” he scoffed, “and I couldn’t face you,” he whispered, gripping you tighter to him “I knew that you would throw everything on my face and I wouldn’t recover from that, so I just left everything behind.”

“What a fucking coward.” you whispered, Javier huffed a soft laugh.

“Yeah.” he blinked a few times. You sighed and Javier felt the warm breath that came out of your mouth clashing with his skin, making him think about all the times he had you between his arms inside that same truck in different circumstances. He yearned for those times to come back, he wished for a second chance he knew he wouldn’t get as soon as you pronounced:

“I’m supposed to be making the seating chart.”

Javier’s breath hitched when he heard it, and he scoffed at himself because in the back of his mind, deep inside himself, he held a glimpse of hope that maybe if you talked to each other, things would change. But it was a childish thought and of course… You weren’t ruining your own life again.

“You’re still getting married?” he asked.

Javier felt you undo the grip you had around him and you pushed yourself away from him.

“Don’t do this.” you shook your head. Javier saw you shift further away from him; you opened the door and jumped out of the truck and into the empty space that was the viewpoint of Boca del Diablo, he did the same; opened the door and got out of the truck to the cold air of the night and jogged around the truck to stand next to you as you threw your head back and looked at the dark, star-filled sky.

His logical side was screaming at him to stop, he knew he wasn’t being fair to you; he knew perfectly that you wouldn’t say yes; but he wanted to try so hard, he wanted to do whatever it was in his power to have you again.

He saw you there, standing in the middle of a darkish, barely moonlight illuminated, dry dirt viewpoint at the edge of a cliff he had taken you so many times when you were together, and all the feelings he had made sure to shove and hide deep inside himself came bubbling up. He never stopped loving you, and he had lost you once already, he didn’t want to lose you again even if he didn’t have you anymore.

“Miel,” he started next to you, he heard you let out a soft no “miel, is he good to you?” he asked.

You turned to see him and Javier saw the confusion in your face, he stepped closer and reached for your hand.

“As good as he can be.” you whispered in reply.

“What if…” he gripped your hand, you shook your head slowly “what if I told yo–”

“No.” you said before he could finish, Javier tugged you closer to him.

“Come with me.” he let out, softly, almost imperceptible even to his own ear.

“No.” you whined out after a sob.

“Please.” he heard himself beg again.

“Don’t, Javier please don’t do this.” you cried out again. He looked at you, the moonlight making your eyes shine with all the previously shed and yet to slide out tears.

“Miel,” he said, it was like his own judgement was blinded by the feelings he had been neglecting to process over the last sixteen years of his life; he knew he was talking but he wasn’t thinking about his own words, “I promise there was neve–”

“Javier, don’t.” you whispered, thick tears rolling out of your eyes that he brushed with his free hand.

“There was never anyone that could love me like you did…” he let out, you shook your head and he cupped your face.

“Stop it.” your voice was so thin he could barely hear it.

“...and I tried, miel, god knows I tried to find someone like you…” you opened your eyes to him and looked at him deeply.

“Please, stop.” you whispered again.

“...I was with so many women…” he whispered and leaned into you, you sighed and Javier could feel the warmth of your breath against his mouth “...so many of them and I couldn’t feel anything…” he felt another tear escaping from his eye and you reached to him, you didn’t brush it but your touch made his skin burn “...not one of them made me feel what you did, miel…” he pressed his forehead against yours “not a single one.”

“Why are you telling me this?” you whispered out, Javier tried to calm his racing heart as he fought himself from kissing you.

“Because no one was enough, miel, no one was you.” his voice was soft and he sighed slightly, you closed your eyes as a sob died inside your chest. Javier brushed his thumb on the skin of your cheek and you, out of the sudden, closed the distance with him.

Javier hummed in surprise but his lips acted by themselves. You tasted the same as the first and last time he had kissed you; sweet as honey.

You ate his lips gently, still whimpering and still crying, you brushed your tongue with this lower lip and he opened his mouth to let you in; he was willing to give you everything you wanted. He wanted to give you everything you asked for.

With the same sharpness you started the kiss you finished it.

Javier wanted to chase your mouth and keep kissing you until his lips went numb but you stepped back from him and shook your head as you licked your lower lip; he sighed once again with the wet flesh of his lip still tingling.

“You know that I can’t, right?” you asked, holding back his hand, he stood there, watching you look at him, “you know I won't risk my entire life just because the man I’ve been loving for twenty years came back, right?”

Javier dropped his gaze to the door and attempted to say that he knew; that he understood, that he wished you to be happy and that he only wanted to try because he loved you. He wanted to say that he was happy to know you still loved him after all those years and that he knew you had the right to decide what to do with your life. But he could only nod.

“I grew out of my pain, Javi,” you whispered, gripping his hand, he lifted his head to look at you, you were giving him a smile he thought he would never see again; small, soft, yours, “it doesn't hurt me anymore; you did what you did for yourself and I understood,” he nodded again, “now I’m doing what i need to do for myself.”

“Does he make you happy?” he asked in a mumble, you scoffed at him.

“Mostly.” you replied, Javier tugged you against him again and held you inside his arms.

“Good.” he whispered, burying his head inside the crook of your neck, he felt your hands roaming gently up and down his back and he wished you could touch him like that for the rest of his life.

“I’m gonna get married, Javier,” you said, he shook his head, “yeah, and I’m gonna move to San Antonio, too.”

“No.” he let out, his voice small, he felt you shake.

“Yes,” you sniffed, he held you tighter “and I’m gonna try to be happy,” you said before a sob came out of you, Javier felt your heartbeat against his nose and wished to feel it for the rest of his life, “even when I know I’m gonna forever feel sad that you’re not the one I wake up next to every morning.” you whispered.

“We can still do that.” he mumbled against your skin, he felt you shaking your head and he held you closer to him.

“I’m not gonna do that to him,” you replied, Javier sighed “because I love him too, he doesn’t deserve that.”

Javier lifted himself from where he was hidden in your body and looked at you; he slid his hands from your waist to your arms and your face and cupped it with both hands.

“What about you and me?” he let out; he heard himself and hated how broken his voice was. He felt the way your breath hitched as he finished asking and he saw you close your eyes.

“We don’t deserve each other anymore, Javi.”

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