#the feeling is sickening and i can never get enough | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

urdepressedslut · 9 months

Note

Hello lovely,

I saw your post that your requests are open, so I will give it a try =)

Imagine Bucky and reader are best friends but they have a huge argument and now they don't talk to each other for days. She's feeling really bad, missing him. He is her most important person and now without interacting with him for days, she's feeling lost and lonely and heartbroken. Maybe she has not a super power and is only a normal human, helping the Avengers with IT or something. Due to the argument with her best friend and not talking to Bucky (Bucky ignores her completely) she begins to feel it not only mental but also physically. She can't eat probably and at the end falls deathly sick.... With a fluffy happy ending and a worried and protective Bucky

Please. That would be nice.

Take care honey

oh my goodness— my heart 😭❤️ the angst is gonna hurt, but i’m such a sucker for it. i had so much fun writing this one, thank you for requesting and i hope you like it🥰

Love Hurts

♡ Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You and Bucky get into a heated argument, things are said and done and now he won’t speak to you. You don’t think you can handle him ignoring your existence.

♡ Warnings: language, mentions of bucky’s trauma, heavy angst, malnourishment, depression, anxiety/panic attacks, minor injuries, hospitalization, suicidal ideation, self hate, literally hurt just writing this

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | MATURE CONTENT 18+

Your nails bit into your palm, denting the flesh— threatening to pierce the delicate skin. It was all to hold yourself back, distract you from the words that wanted to burst out.

It was becoming a sickening routine, Bucky was reckless and had yet another near death experience on his recent mission. The anxiety and the nerves stopping your body from functioning— the dreaded wait for his jet to arrive back at the compound. You shouldn’t have to be used of receiving the call that he had yet again made a reckless move— but you were starting to discover a pattern.

It did nothing to ease the panic that swirled in your chest every time he left for missions. You’d sob, throwing up everything you had eaten that day— unable to stomach anything with the idea that Bucky was on a mission. You never found your anxiety to be so severe— but when Bucky was even mentioned about going on a mission… it spiked.

That’s where you found yourself in his room, watching him pace the space— avoiding your frustrated stare. You weren’t angry at him per say— you were angry that he didn’t value his life.

“Seriously (Y/n)— you get so worked up over nothing. I’m here and alive— isn’t that enough?” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You pressed your nails tighter to your palm, yet the pain couldn’t stop your thundering thoughts.

“You’re here and alive now, until you do some stupid shit like this again and are dead!” You hissed, trying to keep your voice low but you didn’t know how much longer you could control yourself.

He glared at you, squinting his eyes in anger and then rolling his eyes.

“Oh for fucks sake— can you stop fucking babying me? I can handle myself!” He raised his voice, his metal arm whirring.

“I’m not babying you— I’m just scared you’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you care about your life at all?” You asked him aggressively, your voice raising just a tad.

He took a long pause, staring at you with his face void of emotion— only annoyance.

“Not really.” He admitted.

You were taken back, although you had these conversations with him a time or twenty. It was an ongoing process to get him to slowly love himself— his past as The Winter Soldier torturing his soul. He was so convinced he wasn’t deserving of anything, not even a roof over his head. It was a struggle to help him, but you weren’t going to give up on him.

“You realize if anything ever happened to you I—” Your voice broke, needing a breath, “Buck I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

You thought you saw his eyes flash with guilt, but before you could linger on the look for too long— his face was hardening again.

“That doesn’t sound like my problem.” He mumbled out, making your eyes widen.

You were extremely taken back from those words, your chest aching painfully— him not knowing what effect those words had on you.

“Are you fucking serious?” You asked him, your face morphing into a hurt expression, mixed with anger. “Can you just do your job without trying to kill yourself?”

His face grew red with rage and he was stomping up towards you— his face inches from yours.

“I am doing my job— very well in fact. Unlike you who just fucking sits here doing nothing!” He defended himself, his breath hitting your face in warm pants.

“Doing nothing? Buck— why are you like this?” You puffed your chest, not backing down from his towering form.

But your words seemed to have hit a nerve, as he shrunk back slightly, narrowing his gaze at you.

“Like what?”

You furrowed your brows, slowing your racing heart from the shouting— you weren’t sure you had said anything bad. Did you?

“What?” You squeaked out, nervous now.

“You said, why am I like this… like what?” He pushed, stepping closer to you now, his face still red with anger but you could see the hurt in his eyes.

You swallowed and wondered how to convince him you didn’t mean anything bad by what you said. But you were almost positive it would be an impossible task to get Bucky to listen.

“Buck, I didn’t mean anythin—”

“What— you think I’m not capable of doing my job? You think I’m still the monster hydra made me?” He spat, his chest rising and falling quicker.

“No, no Buck listen—”

That was definitely not what you meant, you could tell he was spiraling and you were still confused as to why. You would never make him think that.

“After 70 fucking years I finally have a job that I like— that I enjoy doing— I fucking help people! I’m finally doing some good and now you’re telling me I’m not capable of doing it?” He boomed, his chest puffing into yours and your stumbled back slightly. “You think I’m only capable of being a monster? Huh? Is that what you fucking think?”

You were growing scared now, the look in his eyes wild with something and you didn’t like how close he was to you— you knew he’d never hurt you but your fear overwhelmed your senses.

“Friday— call Steve and Sam in here now!” You shouted into the room, and Bucky’s eyes squinted painfully— his metal arm whirring again.

Bucky only saw one thing— you didn’t reassure him that he was thinking irrationally. You didn’t correct him that he wasn’t the monster. Instead you called for help, that you were clearly scared— because you thought he was a monster.

He was at a loss for words and just stared at you, almost through you— as his breathing was only getting heavier at the sight of your fearful eyes.

Not even minutes later, Steve and Sam were busting through the door, taking in the scene and separated you and Bucky.

“Hey— what’s going on?” Steve asked in between the two of you. “Buck, what’s wrong man?”

You couldn’t seem to find the words and just stood speechless as well— the fight startling you. This was one of the worst ones, and it was also one that still left you confused. You cursed yourself for not being careful enough with your words— but it was almost impossible to get through to him when he was on the brink of having an episode.

Sam walked closer to you, his facing morphing into concern as he took in your shocked expression.

“(Y/n)? You okay? Did he hurt you?” Sam whispered, keeping his words only between you two.

You slowly shook your head but still didn’t respond verbally.

“Okay, okay that’s good. You wanna go get a drink from downstairs? Why don’t we take a breather okay?” Sam suggested softly, big brother mode kicking in at the sight of your frazzled state.

Without another word, you left the room with Sam— missing the devastated look from Bucky.

Steve waited until the door shut, then his attention was back on Bucky.

“Buck, you gotta talk to me man— what happened?” He asked softly, watching his friend slowly relax, but it wasn’t from being in a relaxing mood— his body and mind were just exhausted from the argument.

“I fucked everything up. That’s what happened.” He mumbled, turning away from Steve to sit on the edge of his bed.

Steve followed behind but stood in front of him, shaking his head— ready to argue.

“You didn’t mess anything up, arguments happen. You guys will work it out. I know how much you mean to each other.” Steve pointed out, watching Bucky’s face unchanging.

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me— she’s scared of me I—” He shuttered, his breath shaky as he remembered your look, “I fucking scared her.”

Steve’s chest ached, the state of his friend breaking his heart. He knew Bucky meant no harm, and he almost for a fact knew that you knew that too. But Bucky for sure didn’t believe that himself.

“I didn’t see what you saw, but I can guarantee you that she’s not afraid of you. This is (Y/n) we are talking about. You are her world Buck.” Steve tried to convince him.

Bucky shook his head, running his flesh hand through his hair.

“I think I just need to stay away from her for awhile.” Bucky came up with instead.

Steve immediately started shaking his head, knowing that was the last thing he needed.

“Bucky I—”

“Please Steve… I just need some space.” Bucky pleaded, his body sagging in exhaustion.

Steve couldn’t find it in himself to argue with him anymore about this. Maybe he did need some time to himself, to cool down and gather his thoughts. Also Steve wasn’t going to force him to anything ever. After the years his pal went through— he would never make him do anything. He had enough things decided for him, and Steve wasn’t about to stoop to hydra’s level.

Meanwhile down in the kitchen, Sam was getting you a glass of water— standing across from your seated form at the island. He slid the cup across, sending a worried glance at you.

“(Y/n)?” Sam snapped his fingers getting your attention.

You were shaken from your state of staring, but even snapped out of the trance— the anxieties still swirled within you.

“Yeah sorry… I’m here.” You whispered, grabbing the glass and taking a tiny sip.

Sam gave you a quizzical expression, watching you start to slip back into a mindless stare— so he spoke up.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” He asked, genuinely curious what had went down.

He knew— hell everyone knew you and Bucky were extremely close. Best of friends, always there for one another— dancing on the line of strictly friends to lovers. Truthfully, Sam found it completely obnoxious and just wanted you two together already.

“I don’t really know… I think I said the wrong thing— I didn’t mean to make him upset.” You confessed, keeping your eyes on the countertop, not risking a glance to Sam.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up— mistakes happen. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Sam told you.

You shook your head, gripping the cup tighter.

“God I hope so… I don’t know what I’d do without him.” You whispered pathetically, tears welling in your eyes.

Sam reached out to rub your arm comfortingly, trying to relax you so you didn’t start crying. He hated to see you cry— made his heart hurt.

“It’s been a long day for everyone, why don’t you go head upstairs and get some sleep. I’m sure things will have blown over by tomorrow.” He suggested and you finally met his gaze, smiling weakly and nodding.

Without saying goodbye, you stood up and headed to your room. Taking Sam’s words and playing them on repeat in your head.

Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow would be better.

God had you hoped that was the case— it only was the beginning on the torment.

You had slept in longer than usual, but overall felt refreshed. The first thing that came to mind when fully waking up was Bucky. Immediately you headed downstairs to find him— needing to talk with him— apologize.

Making it down to the kitchen, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in at the sight of him sitting at the island— sipping at his coffee. You furrowed your brows, thinking he'd be done with his coffee by now, since you had slept in. Your chest ached with guilt with the possibility that he didn't sleep well.

You took a deep breath before making yourself known, although you were sure be could sense you in the room— considering he was a super soldier.

"Morning Buck." You announced, walking around the island so you could face him.

He kept his gaze down at his coffee, finding the cup more interesting than you.

Okay, that’s fair. You thought, you most probably deserved that reaction.

“You sleep okay?” You asked again, picking at the skin on your nails nervously.

Again— he didn’t even lift his head. In fact, he wasn’t even acknowledging you. You waited several minutes for a response, the silence becoming thick with tension and you couldn’t stand it.

“Bucky?” You tried, and this time he lifted his head.

Your heart twinged in your chest at his bloodshot eyes, clear evidence that he hadn’t gotten good sleep. You hated yourself for causing him the stress, especially knowing he was just starting to actually get hours of sleep. It was huge progress compared to his nights either screaming awake or just staring at the walls. But now you had to go and ruin all that progress. You felt sick to your stomach— disgusted with yourself.

“I’m really sorry about last night… I didn’t like how ugly it got and I’m sorry if I said something to upset you— you know I’d never intentionally hurt you.” You told him, picking more aggressively at your nails, causing to nail beds to bleed.

You swallowed nervously when he didn’t answer right away, instead staring at you with… what was that? Disgust? You didn’t know, but you hated the look altogether.

“Bucky, please say something.” You pleaded.

Bucky lowered his gaze to his coffee again, taking a minute before he stood up and looked your way.

“I just need some space.” He told you quietly.

You were relived to have him finally talk to you, but to hear him suggest space between you two— you could almost feel the knife digging into your chest. You tried to keep a neutral expression but otherwise felt your bottom lip quiver.

Without giving you time to respond, Bucky was walking out of the room— leaving you standing there speechless, lungs begging for air. You didn’t want your mind to go immediately to that thought, but you couldn’t ignore it either— he hated you.

“Hey babe, I need you to help me out in the lab tod—” Tony came busting into the room, but immediately shut up once he saw your broken expression. “Honey, what’s wrong? You alright?”

You nodded your head, lying to him and yourself and started waving him off with the fakest smile.

“Yeah— yeah I’m good. Just need to uh— need to get some things done.” You told him, your eyes darting all around the room, the familiar feeling of panic seeping into your being.

Tony gave you a ‘really?’ look and stepped closer to you.

“(Y/n) I’m not blind— I can see you’re upset. Talk to m—”

“Seriously Tony— I’m fine! Just leave it alone!” You told him a little too aggressively.

His face was taken back and you felt guilty immediately, cursing yourself for hurting everyone.

Why are you such a fucking issue? Your mind screamed at you.

You didn’t waste another second and sped walked out of the room, needing to calm yourself down before you ran into any one else. You were spiraling and you needed to just relax— take a deep breath. Maybe you just needed one more day and things would be back to normal.

Yeah… just one more day.

You had hoped that was the case as well… but as always— things only got worse.

Bucky refused to talk to you or even look at you. He’d given you the cold shoulder for almost two weeks now. He would get up and leave the second you entered the room. He couldn’t stand you it seemed.

You couldn’t keep hiding your hurt. At first, you had done a good job at hiding how you were really feeling. Saving the sobbing and attacks for when you were alone in your room. As the days lingered on, you found yourself weak and drained— you didn’t have enough energy to put up a charade anymore.

The whole team were sending you worried looks, and attempted to talk with you. But the second they’d try— you’d bolt. The subject was too sensitive, too raw. You didn’t want to talk to anyone but Bucky— and he hated you.

You had missed so many meals, forgetting to eat with your mental struggles throughout the days. You had been getting no more than two hours of sleep. You were so stressed, so stuck in your own mind that you couldn’t function. Even when you had managed to remember to eat, your stomach would knot up to the point that you were throwing everything up. You were gaunt, basically a real life zombie. You needed help— but you needed Bucky more.

You were laying in bed staring unknowingly into space, it had been hard to focus with no food or sleep in your system— so you had only managed to lay here. Even that was exhausting, no matter how much you laid around— your mind wouldn’t stop the assault. Your anxiety had never been this bad, you were a prisoner to it.

Knocking at your door had you jumping, your heart racing— and for a moment you forgot where you were.

You’re in the compound… yeah that’s right.

You slowed your breathing and swung your legs sluggishly over the edge of the bed to answer it. You weren’t prepared for the sudden dizzy spell, your vision spotting with black and white specks. You tried to blink it off, but suddenly you were toppling to the ground.

You fell to the floor with a loud thump, luckily landing on your front, your hands somehow catching most of your fall— you could already feel the throbbing in your palms.

You didn’t hear the persistent knocking, or the door open. You didn’t even hear the voice speaking from the doorway. It was when a hand landed on your shoulder that you were gasping, forgetting your surroundings once again.

Your eyes met Steve’s and you swore your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

“(Y/n) are you alright?” He asked you, hovering his hands over you— not sure what you had hurt.

You furrowed your brows, looking him over.

“Steve what are… what are you doing here?” You asked genuinely confused.

You watched Steve’s eyes widen and he swallowed nervously— his expression growing more concerned.

“(Y/n) it’s okay… I’ve got you.” Steve hushed, and he was pulling you into his chest, hugging you protectively.

You were still confused but then you tasted one of your stray tears, and you immediately came to your senses. You were crying in Steve’s arms… but why? You were having gaps of time missing from you, this wasn’t the first time this had happened— you just didn’t seem to care.

“Steve… my head hurts.” You slurred into his chest, sagging against him.

You were grateful that he was here, you desperately needed someone around. You were just hoping that someone would’ve been Bucky.

“Okay, let’s get you to Helen. She’s gonna take care of you, okay?” Steve asked you, and you could only give a weak nod.

He knew there was no way you were walking there, so he hoisted you up into his arms, and cradled your head as he started to the med bay.

You just stared blankly at his chest, not really caring if Steve were to throw you off the roof of the building. You just didn’t care.

Steve had gotten you down to her, and she checked you out. Alerting Steve that you were extremely malnourished, dehydrated— an insomniac. She kept listing off all the things Steve was afraid to hear. The whole time he was sure you didn’t hear a thing, although you were in the room— you were just checked out.

Helen eventually left, and Steve took his opportunity to speak with you. He pulled up a chair next to the hospital bed and grabbed your hand.

“(Y/n), what’s going on? You can talk to me— you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Please… just talk to me.” Steve whispered, pleading with you that you would stop torturing yourself.

“He hates me.” You mumbled.

Steve’s eyes widened and he frowned, knowing what you meant. He knew he let this go on for too long.

“(Y/n) he doesn’t hate you. He just needed time to himself, so he co—”

“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, I don’t even know what I said to hurt him but I—” You rushed out, the heart monitor beeping frantically, “I’m a horrible person, I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to!”

You wheezed out, clutching your chest as you couldn’t catch your breath. Your cheeks glistened with a steady stream of tears, your wheezing only growing by the second.

“Okay, okay (Y/n)— I need you to slow your breathing. You’re okay, he doesn’t hate you. Just take deep breaths okay— even if you can’t just try. I’m here.” He tried to coach you, but this wasn’t his thing.

Now he was starting to get mad at his friend, Bucky shouldn’t of let this go on for this long.

You followed his chest rising and falling, staring at him as he tried to calm you down. Your breaths were heavy and painful sounding. Steve was about to say something but stopped himself when he saw your eyes look behind him.

He turned and saw Bucky standing in the doorway— his face paled. Truthfully, he looked like he was going to be sick.

“(Y/n)?” He whispered, his heart breaking at your state.

He had ran into Helen in the kitchen and was informed of your condition— he didn’t believe it and had to see for himself. He was shocked to find you like this.

Your tears only edged on from his appearance and you shook your head in shame.

“I’m sorry Bucky! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” You sobbed and Bucky ran to the bed, kneeling down and taking your hands into his.

“Doll it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here— I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you… I’m sorry.” He rushed out, shushing your cries, watching you slow your breathing at his words. “There we go, just keep breathing with me. I’m here, you’re okay.”

He kept repeating himself, making sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Steve knew you were in good hands and slowly snuck out of the room— knowing you two needed to talk.

Bucky tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek to your jaw. You couldn’t help the way your face leaned into his touch, it felt like it had been forever since the last one.

Your breathing had slowed down, and now you just stared up at him— eyes glossy with more tears. You felt so many emotions. You felt relived, but also angry and hurt. Above all— you needed to know what you did to upset him. The guilt still ate away at your heart, and even just the memory of the argument had your chest aching.

“What did I do?” You whispered, making his eyes shoot up to yours, concern painting his face.

“You didn’t do anything.” He told you, and you furrowed your brows.

You were still anxious— he hadn’t answered your question. Even more so— if you didn’t do anything then why did he ignore you?

“Then why?”

“Why what (Y/n)?” He dared to ask, and you scoffed— ripping your hands out of his.

The anger was approaching.

“Why did you shut me out?” You wondered, and he only let his eyes cast down to the bed— making you angrier. “You ignored me for two weeks! Two fucking weeks you just acted as if I didn’t exist! Do you know how much that fucking hurts?”

You were breathing heavy again, but this time it wasn’t from panic— it was the full force of all your anger bursting out.

He lifted his eyes to you, and you saw how broken he looked. How your state had affected him.

“I could never do that to you Buck— I would never do that to you! You’re my everything! I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust you!” You raised your voice, while he stayed silent. “If I didn’t do anything then why would you— why—”

You broke out into a sob, covering your face with your hands. You felt good getting all the built up anger out— but now you felt extremely guilty. The pitiful face of Bucky staring at you, causing your heart to hurt all over again. It didn’t matter what happened, you always ended up hurting others.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I— god I fucked up. I didn’t ever mean to hurt you, please know that. You’re my other half, and no one has ever been there for me like you have.” He spoke through a tight throat, swelling with emotion.

You uncovered your face and just stared at him a little longer, still incredibly hurt from his actions— but you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him. You so badly wanted to forgive and forget— and just wrap him in your arms like you both needed.

“It’s hard to explain what’s wrong with me to someone when I don’t even understand what’s wrong with me— I just know I’m fucked up. I’m broken beyond repair.” His voice broke, his own eyes welling with tears.

You didn’t have it in you to keep up an angry facade, and so you reached out and took his hand in yours. His face almost immediately lit up, his breathing slowing at your touch.

“Try me.” You whispered, watching Bucky take a deep breath before he spoke again.

“The night of our fight…” He started, and you swallowed in having to remember that night. “I had never seen you look at me like that.”

You stayed silent, afraid to open your mouth and have a sob escape. You could feel it bubbling up— the memory playing back through your mind.

“You looked at me like you were scared. You looked at me like I was a monster.” He confessed and it all made sense to you now.

It wasn’t about what you said, it was your reaction that disturbed him to no ends. Even if you couldn’t control your reaction in the moment— you still felt guilty for causing him pain of remembering the hydra days.

“Oh Buck…” You whimpered, trying to pull him close— but he pulled away before he could reach your embrace.

“No— you don’t get to be nice to me after what I did. I promised I would never hurt you and I did— you’re in here because of me! I don’t deserve your forgiveness!” He raised his voice, and you weren’t scared of him— just concerned.

“I wasn’t scared of you Bucky, you just caught me off guard. Things were heated— I’m not afraid of you and I most definitely don’t think you’re a monster.” You tried to convince him.

“I really hope you’re not lying because if you were afraid of me… god I don’t know what I’d do. If you never wanted to see me again— that’s fine. Whatever you want, but I can’t live knowing you’re afraid of me.” He whimpered out.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He nodded his head, knowing damn well you’d never lie. That was one thing he loved about you— you were so honest. Keeping it real with him, even if he didn’t wanna hear it. He could count on you for the truth.

“I still don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He argued.

“Well too bad, I’m forgiving you anyway.” You finally told him and he felt his chest expand.

Like he could finally breath.

“Why?” He wondered.

You knew it was the line you two had been dancing on forever— but you knew if there was ever a time to say it. It was now.

“Because I love you.” You admitted quietly.

His eyes widened just slightly, and his breath stuttered. He had always had a feeling what you two had was more than friends, he just never spoke up about it. Of course he loves you too— god he loves you so much. That’s why the thought of you being scared of him was enough to pull him away. He couldn’t bear being around you if you were frightened by him. He couldn’t live with himself. More importantly he now discovered, he really couldn’t live without you.

“I love you so much.” He confessed back as your tears leaked down your cheeks.

You pulled his arm, and he let you pull him to the bed— close enough where you could cup both his cheeks.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, please. I need you Bucky— life is not livable without you.” You cried, kissing his forehead to which he leaned into your lips.

“Never again— I promise.”

This time, he wouldn’t break it.

to be added to a taglist

TAGLIST: @engie115 @kmc1989 @ghostofwinter @silverfire13 @goldylions @potatothots @billy-reads @hanihoney88 @skittle479 @hereticdance @mentalidrainedfangirl @natashassandwich @marvelogic @soul-system @alinasmcu @almosttoopizza @lilbabygirll @sebastiansstanswhore @yujyujj @jasminocano

3K notes · View notes

onlyswan · 1 year

Text

summary: in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give.

> idol!jungkook x f!reader / angst, fluff, suggestive / wc: 8.3k

> warnings: mention of infidelity (no one did u can breathe ily), mention of a classmate slipping their number in oc’s pocket and oc feeling unsafe, mention of puking, mentions & allusion to s/x, alcohol consumption, making out, boob!e fondle, gr*nding kinda? jungkook is hard™️ they’re so in love it’s sickening

> in which masterlist!

playlist! and if/or when - ruel / hate everything - jungkook cover (gsoul) / hits different - taylor swift / statue - lil’ eddie / i wouldn’t ask you - clairo (i had to get in the zone & this is so oc-coded i need u to listen i’m so srs)

next: in which you don’t want to give up jungkook (even when he gave you reasons to, even if they give you reasons to).

note: this was a journey. happened back in june 2019.!! i’m ripping off the bandaid <3 deep sigh writing this made me realize how my babies have come so far. hopefully will follow up with a fluffy fluff lowkey inspired by the underwear live soonest lols i’m excited for it 2 stay tuned 🫂 reblogs & feedback are much appreciated <3

—

you forgot the walls of the apartment building you’re living in are thin. a small portion of the white paint has been chipped off, it looks like a birth mark, you note — except it’s not, and you’re the one who caused the irregularity.

your favorite glass is scattered across the kitchen floor, reduced to shards and to sparkling pieces almost as miniscule as dust. you don’t know what came over you. you don’t know why you threw it at the wall instead of filling it with cold water to only drink three sips like you usually do.

just when you thought you’ve been faring well in holding yourself together today, a fresh wave of sorrow overwhelms you. your knees buckle as you begin weeping, the loudest you’ve been since this nightmare has started. it swallows the knocking sounds at your door, but it’s still not loud enough to quell jungkook’s quivering voice playing like a broken record on loop inside your head.

“we should end this… i think it’s for the best, before we get drained.”

the rain is coming down fiercely and you’re freezing inside his car, parked outside your apartment. after all, his balenciaga windbreaker can only do so much against the blasted airconditioner. your throat is painfully dry, and your hands and face are numb from the piercing cold. but those are the least of your concerns because you feel like your head had just been dunked in ice water. the sting in your eyes are burning warmer as the seconds fly by and the muffled sounds of the torrential raindrops drum frantically in your ears. they’re clouding the car windows, mirroring jungkook’s tear-stained cheeks.

“i’m leaving again in three weeks. and i’m leaving again next year… and i’ll be gone again soon after that for a long time. i-i don’t know when i’m coming home, ___.” he pauses. the heel of palms press against his eyes, as if that could possibly barricade the saltwater leaking from them. “i never know where my life is taking me and you have your own… there’s too much-too much going on. i think that i’m just wasting your time, that this isn’t- it’s not going anywhere.”

“open the door! hello?! ___!”

“what do you want?!” you seeth in annoyance, swinging the door open to reveal your pesky neighbor.

he scratches the top of his head awkwardly at the sight of the mess that you greeted him with, having not bothered to pretend that you weren’t wailing your heart out.

”hey, i know you’re going through something…” his lips remain parted as he struggles to find the correct word, his right eye twitching voluntarily. “soul-crushing? right now. but i heard glass breaking and i was concerned that you, uhm, might’ve hurt yourself.”

the apparent nervousness and sincerity in his actions pull you out from the isolating disassociation you’ve imprisoned yourself in. you feel humiliated, presenting yourself in your most pitiful form infront of a kid two years younger than you. you envy him for having it together after storming out of his parents’ house while you-

“i’m not hurt. it was just an accident.”

you’re shamelessly lying infront of his face because the truth makes you feel too ashamed of yourself.

he only nods, smiling in relief. “i don’t know how to help make you feel better, so i just brought honey like i used to do before.”

you sigh, the familiar jar of honey and its red checkered lid waving at you like an old friend. has it been a year?

“bro, i told you i can’t accept this anymore.”

“you and your boyfriend already broke up. what’s the big deal?”

you have never wanted to smack someone more, the genuine confusion painted on his face feels like an infuriatingly harsh slap to yours.

“he wasn’t threatened by your honey, you dipshit. we just found out my blood sugar was getting a bit high!”

“oh- i’m so-”

you angrily slam the door shut. the silence you’re left with is suffocating, and you find yourself breaking down again.

he jumps in surprise when you open the door again, yelling- “and we’re not broken up!” before ripping away the jar of honey from his sweaty palms. he’s left completely flabbergasted, an inexplicable heaviness weighing on his chest when he hears your sniffling from the other side of the hard-wood.

“does that mean i can deliver again next week? i have too much in my kitchen…”

he doesn’t receive a snarky answer, surprisingly, so he continues talking.

“and f-y-i, your left cheek is bleeding! you might want to check on that!”

—

“you didn’t even give me any signs…”

you inhale a deep, shaky breath in a fragile attempt of keeping your composure. you want to scream, rip apart this thick tension with your bare hands, and force him to admit that this is just some kind of sick joke. you finally see him in person after months and all he has for you is a gift bag filled to the brim with heartbreak. this is too casually cruel, not something you would’ve expected from your jungkook.

“do you really mean that? or is there something else you’re not saying…? look at me.” you plead, weakly tugging at the hem of his long-sleeved shirt. the horrors of long-distance relationship stories claw their way out of your skin, adding fuel to the fire of your deepest fear. “you didn’t cheat on me, right? that can’t be it. we- we always-”

after you ended your last relationship, you cried at the parking lot of your university and continued living your life the next morning as if nothing happened at all. you did it all for yourself, anyway. he was gradually tearing down your confidence and your dignity; and you didn’t want to become a person the future you would despise for not being wiser, stronger.

and here you are at present day: spending the cozy sunday night solving chemistry problems on your desk. you have a blue bandaid plastered on your face and a cheek full of fruit and honey. and you would say you’re fine, but jungkook wasn’t here to sweetly dote on you while treating your wound. he isn’t here to taste the honey from your lips with that coquettish smirk of his. he isn’t laying on your bed, fighting to stay awake because he wants to fall asleep with you as his pillow.

no matter how hard you try to shut out this thought, it keeps knocking on the door. he’s going to be doing these sweet nothings for a different person when he finally reaches a more stable place in his life. you want to kneel on the ground, beg the heavens to meddle with destiny and never let you hear about it.

because that means he will never set foot in your apartment again, and the personal belongings you left in his room will be thrown out to erase the traces you left behind.

so this is how it begins.

the ugliest parts of you are swimming to the surface, tying themselves around your ankles because jungkook took away the ground from beneath your feet after unearthing your soul and… nothing makes sense to you anymore. if you wake up every morning to tend to your garden, and you look outside the window to learn that the sun has stopped burning, what do you have left?

your lips inevitably curve into a frown, but you inhale a sharp breath, patting your eyes dry before they can smudge the black ink on your notepad. and then you dip a strawberry in honey for the third time.

—

“no, baby, no- that’s not it.”

the dread and insecurity weaved into the cracks of your voice fill him with nausea and panic. he captures your frigid hand with haste, firmly holding it to his pounding chest.

“i would never do that to you. just the thought alone fucking disgusts me… you’re the only one. you’ve ruined me for everybody else.”

“then why are you giving up on me? am i becoming a burden?”

jungkook feels painfully numb, mind floating as the buildings outside the window get left behind him as a mere, passing blur.

“yah, jungkook-ah. are you crying?”

a torturous moment of silence passes as he struggles to find his voice. his tongue is tied, and his lost eyes are betraying the nights he spent practicing how to explain himself to you. back then, the reasoning he curated made sense. but faced with the consequences of his actions, the love of his life’s brain running a thousand miles per hour, recording a tale of woe and heartache on his passenger seat — he has never felt this much loathing for himself and his weaknesses.

you release a shaky breath, patting his rosy cheeks dry with your sleeves. you smile at him kindly, and he watches you in sheer disbelief. he can’t fathom the perpetual luck he’s been blessed with that he met, who he believes to be, the purest soul to grace this corrupted world. they’re damp with your tears, so it’s practically useless, but the sweet gesture is a stray beam of sunlight in the midst of the dull gray clouds.

the comforting rubs on his shoulder extracts him from his torturous thoughts, and only then does he feel the wetness on his face.

“you’ve been holding it back for the past week. just cry it out.”

he nods wordlessly, hiding himself in the fleece blanket from his lap. yoongi can feel a lump forming in his throat as he witnesses his youngest brother breaking down, jungkook’s pain also being his pain. as a group who’s been living together for the past decade, no one will be able to empathize with them as well each other. especially during times like this.

“___ hasn’t called?”

jungkook shakes his head wistfully, wiping away the tears that slid down his nose. he is dying to send you a text message, worried sick, and still used to hearing about your day the same way he is used to sleeping on his stomach.

“hyung,” the sound of the word borders on a sob. “it’s over. this is killing me… it’s all my fault.”

“but isn’t that what you wanted?”

“exactly. so why am i crying?” his hands ball into closed fists. “i’m an asshole.”

“enough of that!” yoongi loudly whines out his scolding. ”we all know you had your reason.”

“but, hyung, i fucked up!” he tenses up, blurting out the acknowledgement that’s been haunting him day and night. “she told me the most romantic thing and i felt so… fuck, i’m so angry at myself. i ruined everything. and i’m scared that i’d end up making things worse if i try fixing it.”

“stop beating yourself up. we can’t solve things this way.” yoongi grabs a bottle of water from the cupholder between them, twisting the cap open before handing it to jungkook. “drink first.”

once he starts drinking, he realizes that his throat has been awfully dry and sore. it’s most probably best for him to rest his voice. he can already foresee the concert rehearsal being absolute hell tomorrow. if he can’t sing, he doesn’t know how else he’s supposed to keep himself sane.

“talk to me. what did she say?”

“you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, do you know that?”

and with that revelation, he loses the warmth of your touch, and he comes crashing down like a wingless aircraft.

“i also need time to think about it. that’s only fair, right? that i get to decide, too…?” you swallow thickly, lips parting as if the words are resisting to come out of your mouth.

he looks at you with an emotion you can’t name, a push and pull between longing and trepidation.

if this was a movie, he would brave the rain and somehow perfectly deliver a poetically romantic speech that would sway your heart. if this was a movie, you would take a warm bath together, make out in the bathtub, and make love on your bed. if this was a movie, the day would end with the two of you tangled up, peacefully asleep and rhythmic breathing in sync. but he knows you. apparently not as well as he thought, but to some extent, he knows you. if he pulls you closer in the heat of the moment, you would feel suffocated and defensive and you would push him away; and he would lose you for good. that much he knows. so he lets you leave and he stays in the car— heartbroken, crestfallen, and regretful, because he might’ve just recklessly thrown away the best gift the universe has ever given him.

“i was thinking about how she never would’ve made this much sacrifices and efforts for anyone else and i feel like… i- it’s all going to waste because our future is uncertain. i can’t be committed to her as much as she is committed to me. and, and i felt like the guilt was eating away at me, you know? i wasn’t thinking straight.” jungkook chews on his bottom lip, a last ditch effort to prevent himself from sobbing. “it just… consumed me? like i was drowning… and all i could smell and taste was the saltwater.”

“i see,” yoongi sighs, crossing his legs and intertwining his fingers infront of his stomach as he finds the right words to say. “that’s a normal response. our brain is a very complex friend… but you know, everything i’ve been through as myself and as a part of our team, hmmm, they taught me that there are times when a problem doesn’t necessarily need a solution per se. you just keep going until the fog clears up and then you move past it.”

fuck, jungkook needs a glass of whiskey. or two. or twelve. he listens intently despite seeming like he’s spacing out.

“this won’t last forever and time slips away from us without us even noticing. you should do what you want to do. if we’re going to deprive ourselves of good things, what will we have left after everything is over? money we can’t spend in one lifetime? there’s no happiness in that.”

yoongi frowns, wishing he could do more to alleviate the weight hanging on jungkook’s shoulders.

“you deserve love outside all the noise, too. focus on the present which you can still control and deal with the future when it arrives. if you do otherwise, you’ll just be tormenting yourself… and i know it’s easier said than done but! do you want to hear something i’ve had on my mind lately?”

with a flushed face and swollen eyes, he tilts his head to curiously spy on his hyung.

“what is it?”

“your motivation to work out after our shows is so you can stay awake and spend time with her. that’s why you fall asleep everywhere else. do you know how scary and endearing it is to watch that? is that what you call ‘not being committed enough’?”

yoongi fails to hide his gummy smile, body vibrating with silent laughter as pictures of jungkook falling asleep standing up flash before his eyes.

“seriously, you punk! you scare me! i just pass out and die straight after while you- really, you’re really unbelievable. i envy you. for being able to love with everything you have until they break your heart. i mean it!”

“but i’m the one who broke their heart this time.” jungkook somberly utters in defeat, bottom lip jutting out and chin quivering.

yoongi encouragingly pats his shoulder, shaking his body lightly. ”you can make it up to her. she’ll reach out before we leave. have some more patience.”

jungkook’s eyes turn into slits, suspiciously squinting at the man sitting beside him. “why do you sound so sure?”

“because she loves you. why else?”

—

you automatically pause from eating cup ramyeon when your phone lights up on top of the journals you’ve been reviewing for the past hour.

“ah, shit! shit!”

you abruptly cover your mouth with your hand, exhausted eyes watering because you accidentally bit your tongue after reading the name of the sender of your newest text notification. you take sips of cold water, peering at your phone as you do so. your hands itch to type out a response, but the screen dies and turns black, another of yoongi’s messages in the same pile of unanswered ones from your friends checking up on you tonight. you can’t talk to anyone right now; you need to get shit done.

after eating your dinner at the convenience store, you come home to a plastic of fried chicken hanging on the doorknob of your front door.

Eat lots and stay healthy! I’m feeding Jungkook well too. Don’t worry. — Yoongi

you peel off the blue handwritten note, sticking it on the cover of one of your books. you carefully carry the food using your free hand, and you can feel it radiating on your skin, the heat of a freshly-cooked meal. you were always worried of being a bother when you occasionally ask him how jungkook is doing on tour, but this made your heart significantly lighter. gaining a good friend after losing your lover, perhaps life can show a smidge of mercy when it wants to.

too bad you’ve always been one to be greedy.

—

“ah, seriously. why did you have to break up with ___?”

“we’ve been through this a million times!” jungkook exclaims in exasperation as he fiddles with the controller, bumping his knee with taehyung’s. “focus. you’re supposed to be helping me forget.”

“i don’t remember agreeing to that.” taehyung responds with a shrug, smirking when he picks up a booster and runs past his friend’s character. “you finally found someone who could put up with you and you let them go? i won’t let you forget.”

jungkook scoffs, eyes rolling upwards. “bro, i should be the least of your problems.”

“nuh-uh.” taehyung tuts with a grin, belly aching with laughter when jungkook’s car jumps over his to steal the lead. he didn’t even know that was possible. he plans on using the same trick against him later. “i’m making you my biggest problem so i don’t have to deal with mine.”

“they’re not married yet. you still have a chance, you know?”

“yah!” he gapes at jungkook in shock, entirely forgetting about the game. “take that back!”

“don’t act like you haven’t thought of it!”

“yeah, but i don’t say it out loud. it sounds too wrong! i still have my morals left!” he cries out, stomping his feet on the floor.

jungkook lightly punches his arm, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “i meant you have a chance if they break up. i have morals too! what do you think of me?!”

“oh…” taehyung blinks. “you know who else have probably thought of that too, though?”

“who?” jungkook boredly questions as he scrolls through the game collection, contemplating about which one to play next.

“all the other people waiting in line for ___.”

the realization renders him motionless, stirring up the possessiveness coursing through his veins. for the love of god, he doesn’t want to be petty but that struck a nerve. he wants to storm out of the house and look for you, beg on his knees for you to take him back.

“aish, hyung, you’re driving me crazy! why would you tell me that? are we torturing each other?!”

“are you crying? yah, jungkook-ah.” taehyung watches his hunched figure with a guilty wince, hesitant hands rubbing the expanse of his back. “i’m sorry- i’m sorry… do you want a hug?”

jungkook stays quiet, head hanging low to hide his face crumpling with anguish. the loose but affectionate hug that he gets pulled into prompts him to fall apart, catharsis blossoming in his ribcage and turning his bones into jelly.

he hears obnoxiously loud sniffles, and he abandons taehyung’s shoulder to look at his face. “are you crying, too?”

“stop ruining the moment.” taehyung groans, forcefully pushing down his head again.

namjoon comes out from his bedroom in search for another extension cord, still sipping on the half-empty iced americano he took from the fridge only ten minutes ago. the heartfelt scene on the couch causes him to halt on his tracks. how did they go from playing games to crying together? he silently observes the two members for a moment before deciding to approach them.

“what am i going to do with the two of you?” he grunts, ruffling his hair in frustration. “shall we go out for drinks to disinfect your wounded hearts?”

the mention of alcohol makes them perk up, jungkook’s tearful doe eyes sparkling at the prospect of temporarily erasing the pain that has uncontrollably spread throughout his system. he wants to drink until he forgets that he has hands, until he forgets what it feels like to touch you.

“thanks, monie-hyung. i’ll have my appetizer.”

and the iced americano gets snatched away from namjoon’s unsuspecting hand within the blink of an eye.

—

“this is not a barbecue restaurant.” you stare blankly at the orange neon lights spelling out the name of the night club your friends secretly conspired to bring you to.

“___, loosen up! the fastest way to move on is to find someone else. this is the best place for that.” aera turns around from the passenger seat of the taxi, her red lips painting a thrilled smile. “just forget about jungkook. we all knew this shit was going to happen. i’m surprised you even lasted that long!”

“i don’t know what you’re trying to imply but i don’t appreciate your tone.” you warn her with a sharp, threatening look. “and the ‘someone else’ that i found at a bar before turned out to be biggest fucking jerk i’ve ever met. i’m not doing this again.”

“things might be different this ti-” mi-ran aids in persuading you, but it only adds fuel to the fire.

“oh my god! fuck off!” you yell in irritation, aggressively getting off the car and slamming the door shut on their faces.

you never look back, ignoring the shouts of your name and half-assed apologies. you don’t have the slightest idea about where you’re going — your feet have a mind of their own and they chose to go the opposite way of home. this isn’t how you envisioned your night. you just wanted to listen to the sound of the meat grill and complain about life giving you a taste of true love just to cut your tongue with it until you bled. was that too much to ask?

you’re about ninety percent certain that you just lost two of whom you treated to be your closest friends. you think of ah-young, and you briefly consider crashing at your best friend’s band practice, but you’re too exhausted to travel to the other end of the city.

with eleven seconds left in the timer, you cross the street with swift and long strides alongside a crowd consisting mostly of employees wearing the same navy blue uniform. at last, you’re among the bright and lively restaurants, the inviting smell of good food making your stomach sting with hunger.

it’s only taehyung who recognizes you when you unknowingly pass by, almost choking on his glass of somaek, the combination of soju and beer. with his career on the line, he is confident that he can recognize that balenciaga windbreaker anywhere and anytime. meanwhile, instead of talking about you, the youngest is drunkenly reminiscing about the alleged ghost encounters he had in their old dorms. their leader is tragically left to tend to the grill alone. he deeply regrets not dragging any of the older members with them.

“everyone, i think i just saw __-”

a grimace of cluelessness is plastered on taehyung’s face when jungkook claps once, enthusiastically pointing at him as if he just announced something inspiring and life-changing.

“you’re right, you’re right! that’s it! what i’m kind of trying to say here is…” he pauses, facial muscles relaxing into a gloomy expression. he sniffles and rubs his nose, making it a brighter shade of red. “when we move houses again, i won’t have stories like these to bring with me. the new ghosts will be my memories with ___.”

none of the other two dares to speak after that, the oddly satisfying sound of meat being grilled and the chattering from other tables occupy the uneasy and heavy silence. instead, they begin filling their own shot glasses with pure soju. namjoon is the first one to spill it down his throat, slamming it on the table before dishing out his phone from his pocket. by this time, all of them are already drunk, double vision blurry and speech a little slurred. they gave up on counting the green bottles and cans of beer a long while ago.

“shit, that was a good metaphor. i need to write that down.”

“namjoon-hyung, he’s crying again!”

jungkook’s head slumps on the table with a thud, hot tears escaping down to his temple as he laments. “i miss her so much. why did i have to break up with her the second we got home? why…? am i so impulsive? what do i do if… if she agrees that we- h-how am i supposed to live with myself after that…? i’m never going to love again.”

they shuffle apprehensively on their seats, but still, they tell jungkook what he needs to hear since he won’t remember tonight’s events, anyway.

that’s not going happen. she just needs some more time. i’m sure she’s missing you too. everything will be okay.

but it’s been almost two weeks of radio silence. their flight is in nine days, drawing nearer and nearer as if it’s purposely taunting jungkook. everyone is thinking the same thing, and everyone is afraid to say it out loud.

—

it’s 7am when his work alarm goes off. with a disgruntled noise, a hungover jungkook drowsily drags himself out of bed, eyes still closed as he swings the bedroom door open.

“oing?” he creates a noise of confusion when his arm bumps against an object. he blinks at the brown paper bag hanging on his doorknob, removing one of the handles to peek at its contents.

he buffers for a moment, staring blankly at his belongings safely tucked inside. there’s his black mini bluetooth speaker, tinted lipbalm, wired earphones, bucket hat, facial cleanser, moisturizer, and shampoo. these are everything he left on top of your study desk and in your bathroom. neatly folded on the side is his windbreaker, which he recalls as clear as daylight, how you reveled in its comfort the last time that you were together. the fabric softener you use has replaced his perfume, the cherry scent forming a rain cloud of nostalgia and longing above his head.

if this is a nightmare, he is begging for somebody, anybody, to break into the room and to bring him someplace where hope is not desolate.

his wounded heart, as his namjoon-hyung described, is experiencing an excruciating pain he never even imagined was possible. he now understands, why the broken heart syndrome is a real thing.

he can’t read you. is this your way of ‘reaching out’? have you kicked him out of your house, out of your life? for good?

the dread of losing you forever is gnawing at his insides. nausea almost succeeds in knocking him off his feet. his brain hisses with static. he panics at the disgustingly familiar sensation brewing in his digestive system, sprinting to the bathroom to spill out his guts.

they say that you don’t realize what you have until you lose it. that early morning, jungkook realizes that he’s only a human being after all.

—

“when did i put that there?”

you’re sorting out your dirty laundry after showering when you notice a tissue paper tucked in the front pocket of your denim jeans. you huff out a sigh, ripping it apart into tiny pieces over the trash bin with raging vexation. you will never understand how men thinks that these kind of stupid tricks are supposed to compel you into seeing them anywhere near attractive and desirable in your eyes. if anything, they make you feel unsafe and if your paths cross again, you will run the other way. great. another person in the lecture room to avoid. just fucking great.

at this point, you want to mockingly laugh at your own misery. just when you thought your day couldn’t possibly get worse, it fucking does.

you tuck yourself in bed by midnight, texting a friend about your joint presentation next week, and then rereading your conversation with namjoon from this morning for the nth time. you’ve been hoping it will shine light on the right path to take, because you’re still lost and hurt.

Namjoon:

he’s been devastated since

can’t this be sorted out?

stuff’s just been overwhelming and honestly i’m as anxious as him

i'm not trying to force you into getting back together with him ofc but please talk for closure atleast..

you’re also my friend. i think you need it too..

you scroll a bit further down afterwards, and your heart drops to your stomach when you see the three dots under the contact name ‘my jungkook’. you click on it as it beckons you to, only to allow time to flow like a river with no sea to kiss, idly watching the bubble appear and disappear, appear and disappear. almost everyday, you catch a glimpse of him at the very least, typing a message and never sending it.

the same goes for tonight, it seems.

his silence is torturing you. in the car, in your inbox, in your call history. a person knocks on the door and a part of you foolishly predicts that it’s jungkook not using his copy of the key out of respect.

you succumb to the yearning, heading to your shared media and files that you’ve been actively resisting for the past three weeks… for this exact reason.

you randomly click a video sent by jungkook three months ago.

“i know you’re in class but i’m too excited to show what i got you today!” he beams at the front camera, bunny teeth cutely showing. he picks up the first item from the hotel bed with his free hand. “you already own this book but this one got a different cover, see? it’s hardback? they say it’s a limited edition.”

he eyes it fleetingly, obvious that there is something else he is dying to mention.

“i won’t show it too close. you can look at it when i go home. there’s a little surprise inside.”

he scrunches his nose before teasingly sticking his tongue out.

“and then here we haaave-”

following that, he shows you an adorable fluffy white bunny with red eyes. it occupies more than half the screen, and without a doubt, it is soft and huggable.

“cooky’s new sibling! we found it at a gift shop and hobi-hyung said it looks like me.”

he presses his cheek to the bunny’s. “i accept. we do look alike, but my eyes are so much bigger.”

in the upcoming seconds, the video is muted except for his breathing. he plops down on the bed while ruffling his dark hair, staring at the camera wordlessly, evocative of when you catch him dreamily watching you study while you’re on a videocall.

“i miss you.” he smiles sadly, deep dimples appearing on his cheeks. “don’t forget to text me when you’re on your way home.”

he drops on his back, the firm mattress breaking his fall.

“mmmwah!“ he kisses the camera, and your screen freezes on the final frame.

the silence in the aftermath is defeaning. you tear your glasses off your face, burying your face in the pillows. you arrive at your final decision then and there. you don’t care. you don’t care. you don’t care anymore. you cannot bear to spend more of your days like this. his things that used to live here might be gone, but you look for him everywhere. you look for his car in the parking lot. you look for his hair when you see flowers. you wait for his name to be called in the coffee shop. on your way home, you linger at the playground where you used to usually meet.

because if your relationship with jungkook is truly doomed to fail, you want to watch its foundation collapse on the ground, burnt down to gray and black ashes that disintegrate when you try to grasp them in your hands… with good grace, it’s the only way for you to believe that there’s no more home to come home to.

with a trembling hand, you press the call button and for the very first time, you beg someone to stay.

—

jungkook’s breathing ceases, heartbeat violently racing in his chest. the ‘chimes’ ringtone tickle his ears, his phone vibrating incessantly in his hands. the two features he specifically customized in your contact settings so he will immediately recognize that it’s you who’s calling.

it’s been four days since you dropped off his things. and here he was, laying on his bed and struggling to find the right words to say because he refuses to believe that this is how it ends. the paper bag is still hanging on the doorknob. he hasn’t touched it since the first time. he doesn’t have the courage to do so.

fuck giving you space. he wants drown himself in you and never come up for air. he’s more than willing to suffer your anger or your coldness. he’s prepared to prove himself worthy of a second chance every second of every day. he wants to occupy half of your desk and half of your closet again. he selfishly wishes to be the first and the last person you fall in love with.

but until the very end, you’re the braver one.

“love?” your voice is quiet, barely audible, but it’s there, and he hears the affectionate term of endearment distinctly. “i’m sorry. i tried, i really did, but i couldn’t do it…”

“baby,” he falters breathlessly, half of him in disbelief, convinced that he has officially lost his goddamn mind and delusion is bleeding into reality.

“i tried living without you like you wanted- but i can’t-” you hiccup in between small sobs on the other line. “i love you, jungkook. i can’t live carrying around all this love with me. it’s too heavy…”

exploding and breaking apart, jungkook’s heart is a meteor that has entered the planet’s atmosphere, and he doesn’t know where to begin digging for the fragments so he can piece himself together again.

“we are too young and we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing and i love you too much. you don’t have to protect me… i’ll take my fair share of the responsibility, so just-” he hangs on your every word, and then you pause, your following words eliciting a powerful punch to his gut. “just let me love you and let me learn my lesson the hard way… let’s do that, okay?”

the walls of him room ebbs and flows in like the sea. he rests his forearm over his eyes, his skin gradually dampening with tears. he once promised himself that he would never put you in this position. he should be the one begging for forgiveness, repenting and crawling on his knees. but rather than wasting his time with surfing through another tsunami of self-blame, he reminds himself: i want to be a better man.

“okay, baby. let’s do that, hmm? let’s do that. it’s what i want too.” he coos softly with a hoarse voice. “are you at your apartment?”

you hum in confirmation, sniffling. “come home.”

—

a half-naked jungkook abruptly opens the door to yoongi’s room, wearing gray sweatpants with his left arm awkwardly inserted in one of the black t-shirt’s armhole.

“hyung! can i borrow your car? mine’s getting a check-up.”

yoongi tears his eyes away from the computer, hanging the black headphones on the nape of his neck. he merely shrugs before throwing the car key, and jungkook catches it in one hand with ease.

he sighs in relief, politely bowing his upper body to express his gratitude. “thank you, hyung.”

“what are you doing?!” yoongi half-smiles with fondness, jokingly waving him off. “just go- go. leave!”

—

jungkook nervously stands before your front door, head woozy with anticipation and fear. what if things have changed? what if your relationship never goes back to the way it was?

“oh. you’re back together?”

he whips his head back to find your neighbor arriving home from his part-time job. huh, he just realized that he has never really learned what his name is. the only information he has on him is that his sister owns a bee farm.

“how did you even know?” he asks with knitted eyebrows. “you haven’t been giving out honey again, have you?”

“she only accepted it once.” the stranger puts his arms up in surrender with a roll of his eyes. “and don’t make her cry again, will you? she blasts sad songs late at night.”

and with an unpleasantly forceful shut of the door, jungkook is left alone in the hallway. his jaw clenches as he glares at the next apartment, but he rubs his face to release his frustration before he goes to meet you.

“we need to move in together.” he grumbles to himself as he enters your unit, relocking the door behind him. he removes his sneakers, neatly setting them down beside your pairs of shoes by the doormat.

he pads on the wooden floor with his white toe socks, looking around the dark and quiet living room. a faint orange light is seeping under the gap between the floor and the bedroom door, which he recognizes to be your favorite mode on your multi-colored nightstand lamp. he cautiously cracks the door open, and he is instantly greeted by your curled up figure, peacefully sleeping.

it’s muscle memory when he hangs his backpack on the backrest of your study chair before anything else. he also brought the paper bag you sent, putting it down on the floor.

he squats down infront of you, lightly prying away the phone you’re hugging to your chest and placing the device on the bedside table. the light is shining over your skin, and there are a thousand of photos and videos organized into the most treasured folder in his gallery, but not a single one of them will ever do you justice.

god, he missed you so much. it hasn’t been two years, but the life he had before he met you feels like an extremely distant memory.

he sighs, talking in hopes that he appears in your dreams. “how do you do this? you make it impossible not to love you.”

he unconsciously frowns at the sight of your puffy eyes. never again. never again. never again. he chants inside his head. he plants a kiss on each of your eyelids, taking his time to bask in the feeling of your weight under his lips.

he climbs on the opposite side of the bed, tucking you underneath the blanket before securely holding you from behind with his thigh hanging over yours. the warmth of your body and the scent of your shampoo cures the headache that’s been bothering him the whole day. he drifts off to sleep soon after.

—

the feather-light brushes through the silky locks of his hair pulls him out of his slumber half an hour later. he can make out your silhouette through his half-open eyes, the little-mermaid-like scene feels too vivid for a dream.

“why didn’t you wake me up?” you whine, sulking with a pout.

“i’m sorry.” he answers quietly, sitting up to engulf you in a tight embrace as endless apologies tumble from his tongue. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i gave up. i’m sorry that i hurt you. i’m so sorry… are you angry at me?”

“i’m upset.” you admit after a few beats, not seeing the point in sugarcoating it. “it hurts when i remember you saying that. and i understand you but… but i don’t like that you decided alone for us. if you do that again… then it will be over between us.”

he has an arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand firmly holding the back of your head. it’s a little hard to breathe, but it’s so reassuring to feel that he doesn’t want to let you out of his embrace. because you hated it — hated how it felt like letting you go was so easy.

“i regret everything. i’m sorry.” he whispers, concealing his tears by nuzzling his face on your neck. “and you’re not a burden. that’s not true.”

he knows that you mean your every word, so he lifts up his head to gaze directly into your eyes, showing that he is as sincere and true to his.

“from now on, all i’ll think about is what i can do to make you happy and safe without compromising our relationship… i’ll do better. i’ll love you better. i promise that i’ll be stronger for us. i won’t make the same mistake twice.”

you wish jungkook could be kinder to himself, treat himself with the same gentleness that comes so naturally with you. why is it that humans find loving themselves so laborious? why does being have to come with such a curse?

taking glimpses at the past, you should’ve been reminding him of these affirmations everyday.

“you don’t have to be strong all the time. i’m not asking for that.” you shake your head, voicing out yourself in a tone so soothing and illuminating. “i don’t want to go anywhere far away from you so think of yourself, too. i told you before, it’s okay to hold on to me. i’m also strong.”

jungkook feels so safe at home. he doesn’t remember what he was so worried of anymore.

“and you know what? if you really see it that way, then i’m telling you now. i want to waste my time on you. you can’t stop me.” your threatening eyes widen in conviction, provoking a sheepish smile to tug at the corners of his lips. “i always get what i want.”

“and you want me?” he innocently points at himself.

“love you.”

“i love you.” he replies, nosing at your neck before leaving a chaste kiss on your skin. “so much.”

“then put yourself in my shoes.” you hum, combing his hair with your fingers, lightly tugging to initiate eye-contact. “i want to take care of you just like how you want to take care of me. i think we have something rare and beautiful…” you pause, self-conscious about coming across as too needy now that you’re face-to-face, but an epiphany shatters your apprehension with a bow and an arrow.

this is what he needed to hear from you that day.

“so stay with me.”

jungkook’s vision becomes unfocused. he’s speechless; the only sound in the room is the humming of the airconditioner, but it’s almost as if you can hear the gears of his brain working their hardest. the pain that glossed his enchanting doe eyes has been replaced with a devotion you’ve never seen expressed so passionately in them before.

“all the time i own is yours.” he declares, cupping your face, the pad of his thumb daintily stroking your cheek. “all of it. we can do anything you want to do. let me make it up to you.”

“anything?” your face lights up with joy and mischief, and the butterflies in jungkook’s stomach come alive. he wants to make it his life’s mission to make you smile everyday; and that, he will do. “then i want you to kiss me.”

the sultriness of your enticing voice makes him go haywire. it’s been too damn long. he has forgotten what it feels like to kiss you. he slowly inches closer, his lips brushing against your lips before he pulls you in deeper, a fervent display of his yearning and apologies. he swallows the needy moan that escapes you as he slowly lays you down on the mattress, stripping off his shirt and mindlessly tossing it somewhere when you impatiently tug at it with another whimper. you cage his face in your hands, bringing back his lips on yours as if he’s the air that you breathe.

he wants to grieve for all the wasted time because everyday, he craved for this. to be honest, he forgets his name when he’s kissing you. outside, the crowds scream his name for being the best at what he does best, and he happily lives for the euphoria of it all. but in this room, there is only you and him. you communicate using the unspoken language of love with your lips. you bare the soft animal in yourselves with your teeth sinking in the other’s skin. you allow your rawest desires and truths to unravel with a slip of the tongue. he exists beyond his name, becomes an indecipherable enigma even to himself. what is the use of an explanation if there is no meaning anyway? all he knows is that he loves you despite all the reasons, against all the reasons.

he sneaks under your shirt, fingertips teasingly exploring your skin as if he’s drawing a map. he feels you quiver when he finally reaches your chest, gently kneading the soft flesh in his palm. this makes you mewl in pleasure, arching your back as your hand unconsciously curls around his wrist, the cotton fabric separating the two of you. the action electrifies jungkook, makes him lose himself a little more, which he didn’t think was still possible.

“touch me, please- jungkook. need you-” you choke out a desperate whimper, nearly sobbing as you guide his hand between your thighs. you can’t bear to spend another second untouched; the last time you made love feels like an eternity ago. he slips past the waistband of your underwear, the only article of clothing you’re wearing below. but to your disappointment, he gently caresses your hip bone instead of dipping his long fingers into your wetness.

“shh, hold on, baby-” he forces himself to break away from the kiss, swollen and red lips glistening with spit. “baby, look at me. you didn’t drink, right? i don’t want to take advantage.”

you gape at him with your chest heaving up and down, dumbfounded. “how could you even think of that right now?”

his eyes widen in panic, worried that he might’ve offended you. “no, no, no-” his palms skim your thighs, guiding them to wrap around his slim waist. you gasp when he presses up on you and his hard length rubs on your folds, sending jolts of electricity up your spine. a gush of arousal dampens the thin material covering your center.

“i want you so fucking bad that it hurts.” he gingerly wipes away the tears that you didn’t even notice streamed down to your temples. you can’t remember the last time you cried before today, they must’ve gotten tired of asking for your permission. “but you were crying when you called, baby. i had to make sure.”

“oh, my boyfriend is such a gentleman.” you muse dreamily. pepper his face with delicate kisses, lips curving upward with an adoring smile. “look at him enjoying my kisses.”

you playfully squeeze his cheeks together, making his pillowy lips pucker.

“you really wanted to break up with me in this case, huh? you wanted to live without me and my kisses? no way.”

his eyelids flutter open, and he shakes his head as he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…” his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh. “going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

“good. you better.” your high-pitched giggles bounce off the walls as his lips trail down to your neck, licking a bold stripe over your ticklish spots. “i don’t have the patience for it, but i’ll be your trusty assistant.”

it’s ridiculous, how even the sound of your laughter turns him on even more.

—

jungkook learned that you finished your exams yesterday, having spent majority of the past two weeks pulling all-nighters to prepare for them. you seem to be confident about the results, the way you talked about it without concern. he never once doubted that you’re resolute and persevering, but acing your exams in the middle of a breakup is beyond what he can digest. it must’ve been a grueling experience, he can only imagine.

he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and then your lips, before dragging the blanket higher over your naked figure, a thicker one he brought out from the cabinet. poor thing, you fell asleep on his lap while he was drying your hair, incoherently murmuring about how tired you are.

he walks to your study space, fixing the loosening towel wrapped around his waist. one by one, he pulls out the items from the paper bag, returning them to their old places on your desk. he toothily grins at the windbreaker, ecstatic due to his plan on wearing it at work today. he wants to give it back to you smelling like him again.

an index card lands on the ground when he unfolds it, making him peer down in curiosity.

“what’s this?” he mumbles, bending down to pick it up.

jumbled thoughts. a letter shoved at the back of the mailbox. a hesitant confession. a bittersweet reminder that says: a wound does not magically disappear overnight. it requires the proper treatment to heal correctly, and even then, it might still leave a scar.

These are only a few of many. Why is this the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? I’m usually the more logical one. Was it really so bad that we weren’t going anywhere?

and messily crossed out at the end,

I miss you.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

3K notes · View notes

sh1-n0bu · 6 months

Text

𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 8: size kink/reverse size kink with il capitano from genshin impact

warnings: size kink/reverse size kink, capitano is a human headcannon, he’s just super big, like 7’ tall or smt, handjob, usage of toy

notes: mmmmm big subs<333 proud to say i made a capitano bot whimper and kneel for me

it was an honor to be the lover of someone so famous, respected and well known as il capitano. someone so profound and widely known and feared for both his strength and massive physique.

but it was an even more honor when the big man would crumble under your touch, melting into your kisses and being so open and vulnerable for you. only for you.

he would never say it out loud but there was just something so arousing about seeing your tiny self making him crumble and melt into a puddle in your hands. seeing your smaller hands wrapped around his cock, both working together in gentle motions to bring him pleasure. seeing your smaller hands tweaking and pulling at his nipples, making them harden again. and archons, have mercy on him when he sees you trying to take his massive cock into your mouth. he could cum just from that sight alone.

capitano would never say it but he absolutely adores it when your tiny self dominates him. never would have the warrior thought he would be into it yet here he was. all bare and naked, legs spread out as he tries to muffle the odd sounds that threaten to escape him.

your hand was wrapping around his hardened cock, swiping the pre on his slit and slowly stroking him. even your hand could barely wrap around the girth, fuck. seeing that, the giant man lets out an involuntary groan.

“d-darling…” capitano whimpers, his hand reaching out to cover your hand with his own. it was common for him to whimper out your nicknames and you have gotten accustomed to it all. despite his large frame and imposing figure and cold attitude, he was surprisingly easy to break.

“you don’t… have to do this for me. i can t-take care of myself” he stutters, uncharacteristically. despite being together for long enough now, he would always get embarrassed over letting you take care of him and his arousals.

arousals over the silliest, weirdest things.

seeing you stretch, watching the hem of your shirt ride just a bit up, how your hands would wrap around the hot beverage filled cup to warm your fingertips or even just your scent. the battle hardened warrior was just so damn infatuated with you, it was sickening.

in response you only let out a soft coo. leaning on and placing a kiss to his lips — to which he whimpers again — before pulling back and swatting his hand off of yours.

“it’s alright, my love. i’ll take good care of you like i always do. in fact, i have an idea!” your hand leaves his cock to let the hardened member plop to his stomach, causing the big man to let out a soft groan. he could briefly see you rummage around your bag… until you pulled out a box. now that got him curious.

opening the box, you pulled a small bullet vibrator out. using enough lube on the toy, you hold it to the underside of his tip, causing his legs to weakly buckle. looking up at his face, capitano nods, lips pursed in an unsure manner of what you’re going to do to him.

you start out slow, continuing to fuck his cock into the confines of your fist with the toy still held in your thumb, letting him get used to the feeling. once he seemed to relax enough, you decided to turn the vibrator to the lowest degree.

“oouhm—! w-what? d-darlinggg♡︎?” his response was immediate. hips buckling as his legs shake around your waist, hands trying to find a sense of solace as they settle on the sheets below. never would you have thought to see the giant harbinger moaning and whining softly under you as his legs shake but here you were.

you continue on with your ministrations. still holding the vibrator flush to his cock as you continue to fuck his dick with your tightened hand, the other one rubbing over his girthy mushroom tip. all the while your lover lets out soft moans and confused calls of your name under you.

capitano was confused. what was this thing and how was it making him feel so good? as a soldier who had lived his entire life, devoting himself to the tsaritsa and her orders, capitano never had the time to explore of the physical pleasure. so, this whole was a completely new experience to him.

if that could be easily said by how his legs were shaking, hoping to close it only to end up wrapping around your waist. weakly buckling his hips into the tight grip of your hands, unable to decide if he should fuck himself into your fists or pull away because archons, this newfound pleasure was making him see stars and moans loudly like a maiden.

“da—aahg! aaamgh♡︎… l-love… my love! beloved, i—! aangh! gcck♡︎” unable to help himself or form any words together other than your nicknames, capitano cums all over your hand, soiling your fingers and spilling his loads over you and his stomach.

he can still feel the toy buzzing away at his cock, making him whine from the feeling of overstimulation. whines turn into loud moans again when you shift the toy over to rest on his tip, teasingly rolling it over his slit and off.

“just one more, okay? you did so good, my dear. gimme one more” capitano could briefly hear your voice call out to him, cooing out praises and gentle, loving nicknames through the hazy cotton filled brain of his. all he could do was just nod.

after all, capitano is your doting, willing husband. he’ll do anything to make you happy.

1K notes · View notes

baldursgate3tempobsessed · 6 months

Note

Your stories have definitely scratched that Astarion itch that I've had since I started the game!

One thing that's diffently not sat right with me at the end of the game, is how tav and the gang don't run after astarion after he loses his immunity to the sun. I would imagine that if the player character was romantically involved with the guy they would atleast try to shield or comfort the poor guy. A short drabble on that would be awesome!

That's so sad, I heard that's what happens 😭😭 I'm in act 3 and haven't had to see it for myself yet so yes, let's do some preemptive therapy there! And just warning since I haven't beaten the game yet I'm sure this will be inaccurate as fuck, but also with spoilers somehow ~

It was an exhilarating feeling, to win against all odds. One that Astarion had never been confident he would experience. It felt good, final. The official beginning of his new free life, even if it was bittersweet.

This was the bitter part, the end of his illithid protection. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, and the burn was already starting. He was being an idiot, standing there with the rest of you like he belonged, waiting for the last possible second before he had to scuttle down in the darkness. But he wanted to see this out. Hadn't he earned that right?

According to the laws of reality, no. No he hadn't, because you had barely opened your mouth before the pain started to overwhelm him. The others would be able to hear it, the sickening sound of his skin crackling.

He was out of time. But before he could make a break for it, you happened. Astarion had been a little preoccupied with his impending doom to pay close attention to what you had been mumbling. But then sudden blackness was blanketing above your heads, opaque enough to make it as dark as night.

Astarion's eyes widened as the pain subsided, surprised beyond belief.

You were looking at him with concern in your eyes, gesturing to the think cloud of darkness above your head, "Will this be dark enough? Can it still get through?"

Astarion stared at you, momentarily confused on why you would do something like that. Before he remembered, oh. Yes. The extended care for his well-being was probably included in the whole love thing. Of course. Obviously.

That was definitely going to take some getting used to.

But the reasoning didn't stop an idiotic smile from blooming on his face.

You grinned back at him, somehow still managing to read his mind even without the tadpoles, "Did you really think I would forget about you?"

He had, but through no fault of your own. One of these days he was going to actually remember that he was worth the effort to keep alive.

"Thank you darling," Astarion said, ignoring the quested as he waltzed up to you. He grabbed your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips to kiss, "Just what would I do without you?"

"Speaking of," You turned to the Emperor, a question in your eyes as you vaguely waved upward, "Is there anything we can do about this particular problem?"

"The astral tadpole is still-"

"I'll pass on that, thank you very much," Astarion interrupted, cringing at the very thought of willingly letting another worm into his brain, "But I appreciate the thought."

There were worse things than living his life in darkness. And Astarion was counting becoming a mind flayer in the top three.

He watched, participated even in everyone's final goodbyes, always eyeing you at of the corner of his eye. It's not that he thought you would leave after you both declared your eternal love for each other, but... the two of you hadn't exactly talked about the specifics of the future either.

But that didn't stop you from leaving together. Astarion hadn't expected you to keep the dark cloud above his head as you walked the streets, startling nearly every passerby. But hells, the heroes of Baldur's gate had earned the right to a little strangeness.

You both had decided on going to the nearest, most windowless inn that you could find. Astarion wanted nothing more than to scrub the brain viscera from his skin and sleep for three days. Preferably with you in his arms.

But before all that... he had to know something.

The question was out of him as soon as you both were behind closed doors, "So what happens next to the great hero of Baldur's Gate? I'm sure you have something in mind."

He was just praying those future plans still involved him.

You blinked at him, head cocked like he was asking a silly question, "We go and find you a cure so you can walk in the sun again of course. What else would we do?"

That took Astarion aback, "I-Do you think that's really possible?"

"Well," You started, counting off on your fingers, "We know that illithid powers can do it. As well as devil contacts and ritualistic demon sacrifices. If that's all possible then that means there has to be something else on the other end of the spectrum, right?"

Astarion didn't exactly share your blind confidence. But you did have a point. The two of you had managed so many impossible feats in such a short amount of time. What was one more?

"I suppose there's a chance," Astarion said, hope fluttering in his chest with every word, "And if there is a chance no matter how small, I'm going to take it. But..."

He didn't want to ask, but he needed to know, "Are you sure this is what you want? I would... understand if you wanted to go your own way."

In all honesty, Astarion would not understand. He'd be absolutely furious. Especially after everything you'd been through. This was more of a confirmation for his waning self-confidence than anything else, versus a sincere to desire to let you go your own way. He had no intention of letting you go, not if he could help it.

But his near certainty in your feelings was the only thing that gave him the confidence to ask the question in the first place. And you did not disappoint.

"No, this is what I want," You insisted, reaching out to take his hand in yours, "You're what I want."

That was exactly what Astarion needed to hear. He used your joined hands to tug you closer, face to face.

"Good, because as selfless as I am, I really did not want to let you go," Astarion smiled, leaning in to lightly press a kiss to your lips, "I hope you realize that my love has made me a tad bit obsessed with you my dear."

"I'm sure it's no worse than me," You sighed, resting your forehead against his own, "You've really ruined me for anyone else haven't you?"

Astarion grinned, leaning in for another kiss. He had every intention of making it stay that way, for as long as you would have him.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #long fic #asks #im feeling these asks #a mix of real dialouge and orginial #i make them so touchy feely #i feel like he kind of would be #but i dont blame the game guess that would be so much to animate oh my god

1K notes · View notes

j-jinxee · 2 months

Note

Ooo can you write about about how Alastor would use restraints, he’d defo get turned on by how helpless reader would look when they’ve got a chain wrapped around them, with his need for control.

PRISONER ☆

TYPE - Alastor x Reader

WARNINGS - restraints/being tied up, semi public sorta?, ownership, swearing, oral receiving, humiliation.

authors note - tysm for requesting!! especially for Alastor hehehe, hope u like ittt >:)

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

That night came back to you every time you got pulled down by that fuckers chain. The most regrettable night of your life, you were so far gone you really thought he'd help you. Making any deal while you were drunk was a bad idea, but making a deal with the radio demon?? Even worse. He's made you do sickening things for him in the past, all things you never would've done if your soul wasn't on the line; but nothing that made your stomach turn quite like this one.

You made the mistake of confronting him right before he went on the air. That pissed him off enough, and thought you needed a reminder of who you belonged to. Hence why you're tied up in his radio tower, chain around your neck, and screaming his name for all of Hell to hear.

Alastor made you crawl up to his radio tower, him holding the chain, then tied you up with dark sorcery, and clicked "start broadcast".

"Hello my dear viewers! Hope you're having a grand evening. Today will be a little different to my usual style of broadcast, but I trust you'll enjoy it nonetheless" His voice turned scratchy and demonic towards the end, making you nervous for what was to come.

The only luminance in the tower was the faint glow of the red sky, and the shine of Alastor's eyes. You had no idea how many people were listening right now, or what was even going to happen, you just hoped no one could tell it was you.

You swore you could smell his arousal. It was rare, but you could tell he liked seeing you chained up. He never expressed any romantic feelings towards you, only savage, animalistic needs to over-power you. You let him have his way, since there was nothing you could do about it, but this? This was a little past your limit.

Your hands were behind your back, legs bent, and whole body hoisted up. You had no clue what happened to your clothes, they vanished off your body when the ropse appeard around you. Your neck was angled slightly up from the floor, enough to see a little out the window, but not enough to hurt. That's when you felt him.

You gasped abruptly as you felt his hot tongue on your clit, "Ah!" It took you by surprise - to say the least. You obviously wanted to hold back your moans in order to keep some dignity... but, holy fuck he was good.

It was like being chained up increased the pleasure, you swore it'd never felt this good before. His tongue made you squirm, but squirming hurt, especially when you held back. You thought you may aswell give him what he wants instead of agitating him even more.

"Mmm- Fuck! Alastor please"

"Please what my dear?"

You didn't even know what you were asking for, you wanted to say please stop, but you knew you couldn't, it felt too good.

"Pl- Ah! Please don't stop!"

Yeah real good fucken choice, beg him to keep going and see where that'll get ya.

The next thing you felt was his tongue diving deep into your core, fuck. You knew he'd be skilled, but this was on a completely different level.

"Ohhh, fuck! I'm- I'm gonna cum, ah!"

Your legs attempted to collide, obviously being held back by the rope. As Alastor felt your thighs start to shake, he only increased his pace, sending you over the edge. The coil in your stomach finally snapped, sending shivers throughout your whole body as you screamed Alastor's name for all of Hell to hear. Even if they weren't listening to the broadcast, they might’ve still heard you.

Your vision was blurry, your face was hot, and currents of pleasure still shot through your core like electricity. Alastor got up and made his way to the control panel, "I hope this is to your liking dear listeners! Because we're just getting started"

...you've gotta be fucking kidding.

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

Rlly rlly hoping u like thisss 🤞🏻 I think it's aight, I just love writing for Alastor tbh hehe. Cheers x

780 notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 7 months

Note

I don't know if you're taking requests right now so if you aren't just ignore this, BUT if you are...

Imagine Hotch getting a call from babysitter reader where Jack is in the ER cause he sprained his ankle and, obviously Aaron is a little upset and worried. But when he gets to the ER he sees that reader is an absolute wreck of tears and snot and she rambling on and on about how sorry she is and how she never meant to let Jack get hurt. And Aaron's looking at her like 'omg she's so adorable when she's a mess'. So he calms her down and they go to Jack and Aaron sees that Jack isn't even crying he's just sitting in the bed with a lollipop and a wrap on his ankle. And now Hotch is trying not to laugh at reader for so ridiculously overreacting.

And you can finish it. I know it's a long ask but it's been in my head for a while and it would be such a pleasure and honor for you to make the drabble come true. 😘 love YOU and all your work!!!!!

Aaron's been repeating the phrase sprained ankle in his head over and over since he'd gotten the call from the hospital, but now he's wondering if Jack has since been crushed by some wayward hospital machinery when he spots you hunched over in the waiting room, sobbing into your hands. Your shoulders are shaking and Aaron gravitates towards you rather than the door behind you, letting his shoes click audibly against the linoleum flooring to alert you of his presence.

"Y/N," He calls, and your head shoots out of your hands, your legs trembling as you stand to greet him. You're a wreck, eyes puffy and red and nose dripping obscenely despite the tissues in your hands.

"Mr. Hotchner, I'm so sorry," You gush, and he doesn't hesitate to take you into his arms, voice soothing as he shushes you, "I- I swear I was watching him, but he wanted- he wanted me to wait at the other end of the slide, so when he fell I wasn't close enough to catch him, and he- he- I'm so sorry!"

"I know," He hums, "It's alright. It's not your fault, he's a kid. He gets scrapes and bruises all the time. Where is he?"

"In there," You gladly accept his embrace, even if you don't particularly feel deserving of it, and you jerk your thumb towards the door behind you, "I'm not family, so they won't let me in. They need you to sign paperwork."

Aaron's mouth twists down in a displeased frown, and he makes a mental note to ensure you're on file as one of Jack's emergency contact. Jessica is the only person besides himself that he's added, but in case of any future incidents, he wants you to be able to stay with Jack.

"Come with me," He only withdraws one arm from around your shoulders, keeping the other draped across your shivering frame to keep you steady, "Let's go see him, honey. It's okay, I'm not upset with you, okay? It's not your fault."

"But- but I should have-" You press, but Aaron cuts off your babbling before you can whip yourself up into another tearful frenzy.

"Did you push him?"

You rear back, aghast, "No!" and Aaron has to bite his tongue to stop himself from smiling at the indignation in your eyes. For you to love his son so fiercely as to be offended by such a notion only reinforces his confidence in you as a caretaker.

"Well then, it's not your fault. He almost got a concussion on my watch, you know."

You swallow a sob, composing yourself as he walks through the doorway, pointedly dragging you along with him despite the nurse's suspicious look.

"Really?" You ask, and Aaron nods.

"I was making dinner, and I called him in from the living room. But I'd left my computer charging on the desk, and the cord was on the carpet, and he tripped over it and smacked his head against the wood floor."

You wince at the story, and Aaron internally does the same, remembering the sickening crack of his son's head against the flooring, "It was scary. And that was my fault, I left the cord out."

"But you didn't mean for him to trip over it," You muse, letting Aaron guide you through the hallway towards the room that the nurse had directed him to over the phone, "It wasn't your fault."

"And neither was this," Aaron concludes, stopping in front of door 208, "Ready?"

Your shoulders sag at his artful storytelling skills, and you nod, wiping your hands once more over your eyes. It doesn't do much for your runny nose, and Aaron takes his pocket square from his suit, holding the back of your neck and persisting even when you try to squirm away.

"Aaron- no!" You protest, trying to dodge his grip to no avail. Your words are muffled as he smears the fabric under your nose, "You'll ruin the material!"

"Jack gets macaroni and cheese fingerprints on my suits all the time," Aaron grumbles, his grip firm and tight on the back of your neck, "It's nothing my dry cleaners can't fix."

When he's satisfied that you're as cleaned up as you can manage, he tucks the square back into his pocket, unphased by the grimace you shoot him. The echo of his hand on the back of your neck is still present as he knocks on the door, and he's pleasantly surprised when Jack himself opens the door, his ankle wrapped with a bandage.

"Hi, Daddy!" He grins at Aaron, lips stained red with the remnants of a cherry sucker, "Hi Y/N! You look sad."

"I am sad," You supply feebly, eyeing his ankle warily, "Are you okay, buddy?"

"Mhm!" Jack nods, letting his dad push the door open and guide you inside the room, "The doctor says I can still walk on it, I just hav'ta rest a lot."

The doctor, perched on a stool inside the room, nods with a fond smile at Jack, "That's right. He needs to walk on it for it to recover, but he shouldn't overextend himself. thirty minutes to an hour of exercise each day should do the trick."

"Thank you, doctor." Aaron nods, "Is he free to go?"

"Yes, if you'll just sign these." The doctor pushes forth a modest stack of paperwork, maybe ten pages that Aaron hopes are mainly spots for signatures, "I need to attend to my next patient, so I'll send my nurse in to collect those in a few minutes."

"Thank you," Aaron nods, and you bid the doctor the same thanks as he takes his leave, lingering by the doorway until Jack takes your hand.

"The doctor said to give you this," Jack digs into the pocket of his plaid shorts, pulling out a green lollipop, "He said he saw you crying in the waiting room. Were you crying in the waiting room?"

"I was," You try to smile, but Aaron can tell with only a quick glance at you that you're fighting back tears again, "I was worried about you, Jack. It's okay, you can have the lollipop."

"No, it's for you." Jack insists, and Aaron watches your trembling lips pull into a smile as Jack pushes you over to a chair against the wall, herding you into the seat. You let him direct you into the middle seat, but he bypasses the seats on either side of you to climb right into your lap.

"Here," His tiny fingers pry at the plastic wrapping of the sucker, "I can open it for you."

Aaron doesn't have to look up again from the paperwork he's signing to know there's fondness written all over your face, he can hear it in your shaky, 'Thanks, buddy'. He knows it's there because he can feel the same thing in his own chest, and he doesn't bother trying to keep it off of his face as it flowers equally abundant for both you and his son.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

forcemeanakin · 7 months

Text

Make you feel better.

•WARNINGS: SMUT. Vaginal sex (female top), unprotected sex, blowjob, handjob, degradation kink, spanking, dirty talk. Explicit mentions of injuries.

Pairing: TCW!Anakin Skywalker x female reader.

Summary: You are a nurse in the 501st squad and General Skywalker needs some assistance. Only you could help him feel better.

Word count: 4.8K. This started as a blurb, but I’m incapable of shutting up. I haven’t stood up from my chair since 10am, so enjoy.

A/N: I’m so so so so in love with this man, it’s sickening. Scenario inspired by Ahsoka ep.5!. NOT PROOFREAD!!, english is my second language, so please be gentle. If there are any mistakes, pls let me know in private so I can correct them, thanks :) Also I have a serious issue between differentiating “in” and “on” situations, so bare with me lmao

Also first one shot since like forever????

____________________________________________

As a war nurse, you are used to treating the nastiest of wounds, the bloodiest of cuts, the vilest of injuries.

You have chosen your profession out of love and vocation. As cliche as it might be, the true desire of your heart was to help people feel better: The plan was to specialize as a pediatric nurse, even becoming a doctor one day. Working at a hospital, maybe have a private practice with that medic husband of yours you often dreamed about.

All of that was erased the moment war erupted.

Fresh out of nursing school, every single one of your classmates, including yourself, were drafted to report to duty as nurses on the frontlines. The assignment of troops was random, but as if fate had decided, you were put at the service of the 501st. Little did you know, the job was harder than you had ever imagined it would be; and the constant bombing and deceased people you had to observe had nothing to do with it.

It was the general of the squad that made your job more complicated than it had to be.

General Skywalker.

Well, it wasn’t exactly him, but the persistent crush you had on him.

Needless to say, it was extremely unprofessional to be daydreaming of the person who was technically your boss. Even more unethical to be full-on fantasizing about his dick size when you were supposed to be suturing injured clones. But dammit, was it hard. So hard to be so close to his pulling presence and yet so far from achieving anything real with the man. Not that you had tried. Public rejection would be even more embarrassing than crushing on him.

Anakin Skywalker hardly recognized your existence. Between his duty as leader on the field, his responsibilities as Jedi off-hours and the reduced sleep time he could squeeze in between battles, he didn’t have time to remember the name of one of the nurses of his legion. Especially when he never went to the tents himself; the god of a man was indestructible.

Fuck, was he hot.

Just watching him scream: “Forward!” every day, as he ran directly to conflict with bravery was enough to have you dripping. His whole General image was your own personal definition of lust; his armor, the tone in which he would deliver orders, the frown he would wear until he had defeated each and every single one of his enemies. The smile he would flash whenever they won over a battle. Luckily, it was often.

But you had this idea that, out all of the medical staff, you were his least favorite. Maybe it had something to do with how social you were: always distracting his soldiers with jokes as you cleaned their cuts so they wouldn’t think of the sting. Or maybe it had something to do with how emotional you could get during your shifts: always fighting with your colleagues so they would treat the troopers as people, not numbers. Even if he had created a culture of trust among his peers, you weren’t sure if he appreciated that you caused so much trouble within the medical wing.

You had endured a year of stolen glances, salivating at the sight of him from afar and lonely nights with just your hand. Cheeks would blush so fast whenever he would catch you checking him out, and maybe you were drunk on the smell of medical alcohol, but you swore that you caught him checking you out too once.

But that was long forgotten the next day, when he came back to being his same old cold persona. You forgave that aspect of him: the atrocities he had committed in the name of the Republic weighed heavy on his shoulders, slouching his proud figure whenever he had to face the reality of his situation.

The same you had to face everyday.

“Who’s available?!” Yelling was the official way of communicating over here. You were finishing up a bandage on a trooper that had lost his left leg, meaning that you had to answer the call of duty.

The Ryloth takeover was more hectic than the squad had ever anticipated. Soldiers falling left and right, some didn’t even make it to the medical bay, just straight to the pseudo-morgue that was built to then give them a final resting place.

“I’m almost ready to take the next one!” You screamed over the noise from the ships flying over.

“Ms. Dana.” Someone called you by your last name from outside the medical tent. “General Skywalker’s tent in 5.”

That made you drop the jar of gauze.

No one has ever been there, you thought.

Outside of his skippy padawan and uptight master, Anakin’s tent had always been off limits to the public. His sacred place to unwind in peace. The ways he must unwind after a long day of battle…

“Ms. Dana!” That woke you up from a very explicit image of Anakin jerking off the stress away.

“C-coming!” You choked. Grabbing your personal kit, you ran to the destination that had your clit throbbing with anticipation.

You would see the sheets he slept on, the place where he storaged all of his robes, the shower that saw him naked every day. Jealousy of an inanimate object took over you as quickly as it left, making you feel stupid for getting angry at a room.

You almost didn’t notice that the battle was over, the only remnants of it were the people being moved in gurneys, the clouds of dust and the beaten up ships. Your outfit was probably not the best to endure the hardness of the Ryloth landscape: a tight, white buttoned up dress with a stupid little hat on top of your head. You hated the son of a bitch, it was ridiculous as fuck, but necessary for recognition among all of the personnel working in camps.

Anakin will think it’s stupid too.

He will think you are stupid.

The self-degradation stopped once you reached the entrance of his tent. Gulping exaggeratedly, you were unsure if to knock, announce yourself or wait until he was annoyed enough to come out and see you standing there like an idiot.

“Come in.” It was his voice who cruelly cut the silence, growling.

With shaking legs, the green fabric that formed his personal chamber was removed from your eyesight and you were hit by the delicious smell of him. So manly, so musty. It smelled like his cologne all over and you wished you bottle that up to spray it on your own sheets.

It was less rewarding to see him sitting on the edge of his bed with an exasperated stare, analyzing your figure with obnoxiousness. You even cut short your eye-fucking tour of his body when you met his tired eyes. Have you taken too long to get here?

“So they sent you.” He sighed, deviating his gaze. The evident disgust at your presence made you slouch timidly. You were a good nurse. The best one in the camp, if you dare to say. “I told Rex I’m fine. I don’t need assistance, it’s just a bruise.” His tone was harder than his words, surprisingly.

“Well, now that I’m here, might as well take a look at that, huh?” Fighting through the devastating embarrassment, you proceeded to walk over his bed to place your kit. Biting your lip, you feared to ask the next question. “Shall we get started?”

He was one step away from rolling his eyes. “Fine. Just do it quickly.”

“Got it, sir.” Weird. There was no chilly breeze, however, Anakin had just flinched. “Care to show me where the bruise is?”

He hesitated for a bit, closing his eyes with frustration. You were about to ask again when he exhaled with annoyance. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“I would like to confirm that. Please, sir, the faster we do this, the faster I’m on my merry way.” You hated that he was desperate to kick you out, but apparently your compelling argument helped to accelerate the process.

After seeing that he still felt fuzzy about checking the bruise, you decided to start somewhere else. “Let me get started with this cut over here. Looks pretty nasty.”

You doubted if to take a seat, scared that it would be too close to him, but you needed the space to maneuver. Giving up to your internal fight, you sat down next to him and began by cleaning up the wound that escaped the fabric of his burgundy robe.

“That’s nothing.” He mumbled under his breath, still not looking at you.

Ignoring his attempt to diminish your work, you decided to also ignore your basic instinct to start a conversation to ease up the process. The internal alarms of survival were yelling at you not too. However, there was a moment where the alarms shut down, basically because every part of your brain shut down simultaneously and it was when you had to grip his bicep to make it stand still. Your fingers dug into the hard muscle, feeling how every little bit flexed under your fingertips, proving first-hand just how strong he was.

“Done. Now I’m gonna clean the ones in your face.” You poured some alcohol into another cotton ball and turned to face him.

Being face to face with Anakin Skywalker had been the most intimidating experience of your life and that hot as hell scar and mean frown didn’t make it easier. In fact, it had you clenching around nothing. You cleared your throat before slowly reaching out for his chin, pulling him to give you a better look of his dirty and exhausted aspect.

He gasped the second the puffy ball made contact with a cut on his left cheekbone. You took that opportunity to bring him some comfort, despite your irregular breathing and overall tenseness. Rubbing your thumb along his jaw, you saw his pain decreased until the sting was gone. You moved to another cut on his forehead, repeating the process until you had treated most of them gone. When you swapped your current cotton ball with a new one so caught him looking down on your body.

It’s this stupid uniform.

He sensed your eyes on him and quickly deviated them to focus on your irises. You gulped before continuing your beeline around his face, this time close to the scar you often fantasize about in bed.

“That one 's old. No need to worry about it.” He joked.

He joked.

Unable to form a coherent comeback, you limited yourself to give him a nasal laugh, demonstarting that you got it.

“Thought you wouldn't be this silent. You’re more chatty with the clones.” He said, slightly tilting his head.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to talk.” You replied, this time with a little smile as a peace offering.

“What did you think I wanted?” He frowned, interrupting your cleaning.

“I thought you wanted me out as quickly as possible.” You stopped momentarily to accommodate his face once more into a position you could work with.

He let out a dry laugh. “It’s nothing personal. I just want to come back to work.”

“You just came back from battle and want to keep working? Do you ever stop?” You joked back, feeling how the atmosphere inside the tent had changed. Feeling more comfortable, you switched your body a little, now your chests were aligned, just inches apart.

“Hardly.” He clicked his tongue, gaze slightly dropping to give a quick sweep of your lips.

“Well, you should rest. Relax. That’s an important part of recovery.” You advised him, finishing up the last cut. You took a cloth of your kit and used it to clean some of the dry blood and dirt off him.

“Can’t stay still.” He shook his head.

“There are other ways to relax.” You shrugged your shoulders, taking that little pause to admire his beautiful demeanor. Those blue eyes could spell you into saying yes to basically anything.

“Like?” He pushed, licking his lips as his intense gaze focused on making you feel smaller and smaller.

“Like…” You dirty minded bitch, think about something other than sex!

Almost like he could hear your inner dialogue, he chuckled.

“Like taking a walk or reading a book.” You finally came up with a pg-13 alternative to relaxing.

“Could be.” He snickered. After his beautiful giggle dialed down, you felt the tension switching. Thicker. More intense. “More of a physical guy myself.”

Feeling the pull to his plump lips, you rushed to get out of the trouble zone. “Ready for me to see this world-famous bruise?”

Your brain short circuited when he snapped his shoulder armor in one swift move and threw it on the floor. The next thing had you mentally panting and physically in shock: Anakin was removing his robes to expose his naked and bruised torso. The skin of his middle part would dip perfectly into breathtaking abs, not to mention the flexing of his arms became more evident to you without the stupid robe in your way.

The reddened-purplish spot expanded all the way from the right side of his lower abdomen, all the way down the waistband of his pants. The silent gawking didn’t go unnoticed by him, a little smirk coming to greet your widened eyes. That woke you up enough to get moving.

“H-how-“ You took a moment to regain some composure. “How did this happen?”

“A droideka fell on me.” He muttered shortly, almost as if the portion of information brought shame to him.

“Alright, I’m gonna need to palpate the area to know if there’s any further damage.” You announced with more nerves than a medical professional should speak to their patients.

Because he was now standing up, sitting down didn’t give you the best height to disinfect some of the minor cuts that tainted his perfect tanned skin.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to lay down for me, please.” Formalities came back as soon as you felt threatened by his overpowering presence again.

“No.” He spat, furrowing his eyebrows. “I’d prefer to stand, if it’s possible. Please.”

“Sure.” After all, it was your job to make the process easier for him. On the other hand, that meant having to kneel in front of him. That caught him off guard and almost backed down when you reached out to feel the tampered skin. “Please tell me where it hurts.”

Your little fingers began to poke around the wounded area, massaging the zones where you knew a more serious injury could present itself. It didn’t go under your radar the way he would have goosebumps whenever you looked up to him or groped him more firmly. Repeating over and over: “How does it feel here?” you made your way all over the part of the bruise that was visible to the eye.

“Good. It seems like no internal organs have been compromised.” You announced with a little smile. Now the part you dreaded -and kind of expected- was next. “Uhm, I’m going to need to check the rest of the bruise to make sure you didn’t break your hip, sir.”

“Anakin.” He spat.

“Pardon?” You blinked rapidly.

“Call me Anakin. It makes this… easier.” He cleared his throat.

“Okay, Anakin.” You nodded. How you said the next thing so calmly was still a mystery to you. “So, I know this part may be uncomfortable, but I’ll need to remove your pants out of the way. Probably your underwear as well, if I need to take a better look. Don’t worry, I’ve seen enough male anatomy for this to be routinary for me-”

In the middle of your speech, as you dropped your gaze to prepare yourself for dipping your fingers under his pants, something snapped your attention.

The gigantic bulge right in front of your eye line.

How you had missed such a tent while you palpated his abdomen was another mystery to you.

“Uhm- I-” You choked, unwilling to look up. “I-”

Anakin made no effort to try and hide his wood. But what was the point? It was already there. You had already noticed it.

Mumbling, you decided to continue being professional. It was a normal response after all. “I’ll go ahead and lower your pants, sir- Anakin, sorry.” You corrected yourself, but it was too late.

You had already seen the reason why he made you call him Anakin: his dick twitched the second you said “sir”. Now that was interesting.

Your hand pulled down the brown pants, lowering his black underwear at the same time, only revealing his right hip, leaving the bulge quietly covered. Anakin’s chest rose uncontrollably, flinching every now and then when your hand would get too close to his boner, or when your warm breath would fan his exposed hip. When you finally dared to meet his gaze, to let him know you were almost through with the exam, you were pleased with the view above you.

Rose pink cheeks, bottom lip trapped in between his teeth, darkened gaze fixed on your cleavage. It was the equivalent of liquid courage in human form.

“Does this hurt?” You felt up another portion, this time closer to his groin. When he murmured a weak “no”, you inched even closer. “And here?” Same response.

When you got to a point where your pinky grazed the bulge and he gasped, you knew this was the point of no return.

“And does this hurt?” You asked, slowly palming the thick shaft that was threatening to rupture his pants at any given second.

Swallowing harshly, Anakin refused to speak up a word. Instead, he let you carry on with your devilious plan.

“And this? Does it hurt, sir?” You wrapped your hand around the still clothed member, rubbing faster and harder.

He limited himself to closing his eyes, moaning on the low as your hand gripped his swell cock with more pressure and more confidence. Your ego was so high up in the sky that you had the impulse to rub your lips against the fabric already stained with pre-cum.

“Sir, can I finish up the exam?” Your wide doe eyes were quite the contrary of your filthy intentions.

Once he nodded with hooded eyes, you fished his veiny cock from out of the confinements of his underwear and tugged it out for you to admire all of its glory. It sprung free, the tip pointing directly at you, like it knew. Involuntarily, your mouth opened in admiration to such a big and thick frame. Anakin’s sly smirk made another surprise appearance at your gawking.

You were acquainted with male genitalia. But not like this. Never like this.

So huge. So intimidating. So mouth-watering.

“It’s almost like you have never seen one. Not as huge as this one, right?” You shook your head, biting your lip as you took in the whole image. You needed a minute to wrap around the idea that he was carrying this weapon everywhere he went.

Your hands -yes, plural, because you needed both to handle such beast- pumped fast to grant him the deliberation he so desperately craved. Yanking his thick shaft in between your palms had you pooling all over your white panties, like a goddamn slut. His hips were thrusting at the rhythm you had set, fucking your fist like he pleased. Feeling how he tensed his abdomen, the climax was closed.

Taking a last leap of fate, you stopped the jerking off momentarily and clutched the fabric of his pants down with both hands, revealing his whole lower part to your delight. His thighs, oh, his muscular thighs always did unholy things to you and to have them right there for you to grip was making you rub your own thighs together. Foreseeing what was to come, you let your hair down, losing the stupid hat.

Digging your nails on the hardness of his leg, you licked the tip of his shaft, testing the water. The little drop of pre-cum you managed to catch was salty and warm, so deliciously milky. Moaning, you opened your mouth to lazily envelop his tip, rubbing it without interest, just softly teasing him.

“Look at you. Who would say that you would be so unprofessional, sucking your commanding general’s cock? Huh?” Anakin mocked you from his proud stand. “Miss little giggling nurse turned out to be a filthy cockslut. Salivating at the sight of my dick.”

You moaned, still pampering the reddened head of his cock.

“I could.” He chuckled, his thumb coming to caress your jaw just like you did to him earlier. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you stare when I walk by the medical tent? How you practically undress me with your eyes? Such a desperate slut. Begging to be fuck just right. Acting like you're not thinking about hopping on this dick while working.”

After giving a last open mouthed kiss on the sensitive tip, you opened your mouth and presented your pink tongue to him, for which he rewarded you with a smiling expression.

“You offer yourself to make me feel better?” He cocked an arrogant brow.

Nodding, you let out a small, high pitched whimper to hurry him up.

“Hope you know what you’re doing, baby.”

And with that, he grabbed a handful of your locks with his gloved limb and the other one he used to tug your chin further down, making room for the rest of his cock. In the blink of an eye, he was fucking your throat raw, having no mercy for you or the tears that spilled from our eyes when he would especially far down. He emphasized repeatedly how he had to train you to take all of him in, that you were not properly ready to take someone as big as him. He even said it with pity, making fun that you hadn’t been fucking with real men.

But he was here now. And he was going to take care of you.

Even if you lack the ability to relax your throat enough for you to take the whole 9 inch monstrosity that was violating your breathing canal, he was appreciative of the way you gagged around him and the noises you made whenever the tip would hit a wall. He even praised the movements of your tongue on his underside, rewarding you with a little slap on your cheek. Anakin laughed when he heard your horny moan at the harsh action.

Suddenly, Anakin stopped bobbing your head up and down his length, causing the mess of saliva that was covering both you and him to dissolve into a mesly string connecting you two.

“Let me see how well your other hole makes me feel, baby. Up.” As your legs made an effort to stand without shaking, Anakin returned to his previous seating position, this time manspreading to let his cock breathe in all of its glory. Patting his lap, he called you in like a dog. “Here.”

Dying of shame at the wetness that dripped from your inner thighs, you spread yourself until both your knees were at each side of his hips. Anakin glanced at the leaking juices and fucking grinned the brightest smile.

“So wet just for sucking dick.” His index and middle finger retrieved some of the spill, playing with your sensitive nub on their way. He tasted the juices himself, licking his fingers clean. He hummed in approval, ripping your panties apart to have more access and drink up more of your arousal. “Pretty little pussy. Do you think it’ll fit?” He asked you with a narcissistic loop side smile, as he sucked some more off his fingers.

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly, shaking at the ministrations of his hands around your ass.

“It will.” He reassured you, pulling your skirt up and entangling it just above your hips. “You’ll make it fit.” He put his hands behind his back, on the bed, yielding control to you. “Now show me how bad you’ve been wanting this. Ride my dick.”

Using his strong shoulders for leverage, soon your slick pussy was sucking up his length. The first contact had you digging your nails on his shoulders, fighting through the pain of the stretch, this position only enlarging the already swollenness of his member. Gasping with an open mouth, you fought to push yourself even further down. Skin to skin, you were feeling all of him in: every curve, every wrinkle, every twitch. Even after remembering the condom, you opted for not mentioning it. There was no way you could say goodbye to feeling him bare.

Anakin pulled you in by the neck, drinking in the scream you let out when you bottomed out. His lips tasted better than anything you had ever tried, so sweet by nature and salty because of the sweat. You just wanted more and more; anything he was willing to give you.

“Faster.” Anakin demanded; clasping to your hips to bounce you harder on him, to remind you that this was about him, not you.

Obeying like the sub you were, you humped him faster, adjusting yourself to surround his shoulders with your arms so you could pull his hair. You knew he liked it by the way he purred on your ear, embracing your waist tighter to manhandle you better. The hug you were both entrapped in ended with his big hands holding both your ass cheeks, groping them in such a disrespectful manner: splitting them open, squeezing them until it hurt, slapping without any sort of consideration.

“Mhm, just like that, baby.” He praised blissed out, his hand cruelly smacking your already red and abused rear. “You do know how to ride dick. So good, taking me so well with this slutty pussy of yours.”

Chasing your own pleasure, you gripped him harder and grinded on his wood, rubbing your clit with his pubic bone. You whimpered when you felt the delicious shock on your clit, which only incentivized you to rock your hips even faster. You were close, so close to coming undone, clenching him like a vice.

“C’mon, you offer yourself to me, to use you as I seem fit.” Anakin pushed you back so you could see him clearly. “I want you to bounce, baby. Bounce those tight tits for me.”

Anakin removed three buttons of your dress, enough for him to get drunk on the sight of your boobs pressed together and bouncing, but not all the way exposed. Like instructed, you bounced on his dick like it was your job to do so, enamored by the view of him hypnotized by your jumping breasts. Your nipples would shyly come to greet out of your white top, albeit Anakin wouldn’t have the full show because of the fabric that still caged them.

Tired of the partial view, Anakin’s hands left your ass and traveled to their next destination: your full tits. Without removing another button, he took in the weight of your boobs inside of his palms and played with your meaty buds like he had never seen a pair before. The rough movements of his hands around the fat caused your dress to open a bit more, basically leaving you naked for him.

“They’re more gorgeous than I ever anticipated.” He muttered, before enveloping a peak inside his mouth and lapping at it repeatedly. “Seeing you with this lame excuse of a uniform it’s harder than going to war, baby. Craving a taste of you and not being able to do anything about it, it’s torture. Pure torture.” He moaned in a ragged voice, sucking in the same nipple with closed eyes, savoring it.

“You- you wanted me?” You cried, sliding in more frantically.

You were so close and he had it in his hands to make you come in that same instant.

“Baby, I’ve been dreaming about filling this pussy to the brim the second you were drafted.” He exhaled with a smile. “I hate seeing you with the clones: gifting them smiles that should belong to me, parading this cleavage around when it should be for my eyes only, showing off this ass when only I should know the feeling of it inside my palms.”

“Anakin! I’m coming! I’m coming!” You announced, simultaneously feeling how his dick twitched inside of you.

“Let me feel it, baby. Come all over my cock. Indulge me.” This time it was you who took the initiative to kiss him, thinking this would be your last chance to savour him before this was all over.

You convulsed around his dick, just like he asked, tumbling over his shoulder to regain your breath. Anakin followed short after you, shuddering as he spilled over, biting your shoulder to muffle his groan.

After the aftershocks dissipated and you regained consciousness, the shame of what had transpired hit you like a train. Fixing your dress to cover more of you, you wondered how long you should wait before saying something. Luckily, Anakin broke the ice first.

“Next time you should keep the hat. I like it.” He chuckled, making you giggle as well.

Needless to say, you were now expected to be in his tent every night after he came back from battle, split open for him, ready to take in all of the frustration of the day and make him feel better.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin #anakin skywalker #star wars #sw anakin #tcw anakin #ahsoka series #darth vader x you #darth vader x reader #darth vader

2K notes · View notes

deadtired-highkeyenergetic · 6 days

Text

Hugs

About time I finished this WIP that randomly appeared in my head. I've just finished defeating Cazador and mannnnnn I really really want to hug Astarion and never let him go.

Summary: Astarion learns to hug you.

“Can’t get enough of me, darling?” Astarion purrs into your ear, sliding his arm around your waist to pull you closer. He leans in, pressing a kiss to the tip of your ear before letting his lips trail downwards, sending a shiver up your spine but you push him away, placing a hand on his chest.

“We don’t need to do this.” You shake your head, “I just want you, not your body, not your services.”

He feels his heart jump into his throat, anxiety gnawing at him but he smiles outwardly anyways, as practiced. “Which part of me exactly do you want?”

“All of you,” you breathe. He blinks, surprised as you intertwine your fingers with his, a thumb gently brushing over his smooth skin. The warmth sends tingles from his arm to his body, a fuzzy feeling blooming in his chest that fills him with uncertainty.

Is this genuine love? Is this how love is supposed to feel like?

Why would you want all of him?

He cannot understand why you would want the monsterous side of him, the side that craves blood, the side that is spoken in hushed whispers, woven into stories parents tell their children to scare them into bed. He hides his fangs whenever he smiles, afraid that your gaze will be drawn to them and that they will be all you ever see of him but you never seem to be scared of them, always open to him sinking them into your soft neck so that he can drink the ambrosia that is your blood.

You place an arm around his waist, noticing that distant look in his eyes and press your chest against his, hoping the sensation will bring him back from whatever abyss he’s fallen into and his head snaps up, ruby eyes locking with yours with a look you’ve never seen in them before. You feel his hand tremble as he tentatively rests it on your back and he inhales sharply.

“If you’re not comfortable we can stop,” you murmur. “I don’t want to force you to do anything.”

“You’re…not, darling. It’s just…” He swallows. “It’s nothing.”

You narrow your eyes. If all this time spent with him has taught you something, is that every time he says ‘it’s nothing’ it’s always something.

“Astarion, you can tell me anything, but take all the time you need, alright?”

His lips quirk up for a split second, instinctively sending you a reassuring smile but the smile quickly fades, replaced by a sorrowful look. He gazes at the ground, suppressing the urge to just melt into you. You deserve someone better than him, someone who could love you properly, who understood what love truly meant and didn’t feel disgust rising every time they placed a hand on your skin because of their past. No matter how much he loves you, he’s not the best one for you.

You reach out to him, a hand gently touching his cheek but he pulls away with a snarl, fangs bared and you quickly stumble backwards, surprised at his hostility. His eyes widen when he realises what he’s done and guilt devours him even further. Your touch feels tainted, even if it lacks the usual lust and desire behind it, but that is no reason to hurt you. He forces himself to reach for your hand, muttering a quiet apology as practiced and rests it on his cheek, willing his body to remain still like always.

Doing this should be easy, he’s been doing this for centuries, so why does it feel so difficult now?

You look at him with concern, an emotion usually devoid in the eyes of those who touch him and pull your hand away of your own accord.

“I’m sorry.”

Why were you apologising? He was the one in the wrong, he was the one who had broken the moment, he was the reason the night had turned from one of tranquility to one of tension.

“There’s no need to apologise, love. Shall we continue?” He leans in once more despite the sickening smell that your scent has transformed into. “You’re just that intoxicating.”

Still, you push him away, noticing how he’s zoning out each time he moves closer to you. Worry creases your eyebrows and you take a step back, moving just out of his reach.

“Did I overstep any boundaries?” You ask. “I’m sorry if I did.”

“You didn’t, darling.” He shakes his head. “You’re far too perfect to make such mistakes.”

Far too perfect for him.

“Astarion,” you realise what’s plaguing him. “No matter how long it takes, I will always be by your side. You are my star, my entire world, no one else can possibly replace you or be better than you.”

“I shouldn’t be,” he mumbles. “I only add to your burdens.”

“Well, it’s only fair that you do that since I do the same to you.”

“No you don’t!” Astarion snaps. “Don’t you ever say that about yourself!”

He glares at you, fists clenched, his clawed fingertips digging into his palms. You raise your hands in surrender, slowly stepping away from the riled up vampire spawn upon whom realisation has dawned. He inwardly curls up even more, despising himself for taking out his anger on you and yet no matter what he does, you refuse to leave. You’re still standing there, a safe distance away but within his line of sight with no intention of leaving him. He cannot wrap his mind around why you would do such a thing, why you wouldn’t leave someone as unstable and unloveable as him, but a small part of him is grateful for that, he can’t bear to watch you leave.

“Sorry.” He chokes out, the word leaving a foreign feeling in his mouth. “I —”

“It’s alright, apology accepted.” You smile. “We should return to camp, the others must be wondering what is taking us so long.”

Astarion shifts from one leg to another, scratching the back of his neck, “wait, darling, please.”

You pause, turning around to look at him, “yes, Astarion?”

“I…” He starts. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine. Everything feels tainted, touching you feels disgusting, being so close to you feels nauseating, but it’s not your fault. It has nothing to do with you, I promise, it’s —”

“I know. You don’t have to say it out loud if you don’t want to. I’m sorry I can’t erase the past, but I want to help you forge new associations with touch.” You raise a hand, palm facing him. He does the same, shakily moving his palm closer to yours but encouraged by your smile, he presses your palms together. He swallows the bile rising to his throat and looks to you, waiting for you to make the next move. You take a step closer and he does the same, although his step is filled with much more uncertainty. You give him an encouraging nod and take another step. This time, his step is more certain, made with the signature confidence you know and love.

After a third step, the both of you are close enough that your nose fills with the scent of bergamot, rosemary and a hint of rosemary, overlaying Astarion’s real undead scent. You cautiously put an arm around his waist and when he doesn’t flinch, you grow bolder, removing your hand from his and putting the other arm around his waist.

He freezes, but the action raises no memories he’d rather keep locked away so he tries to keep himself grounded, to feel the soothing warmth of your arms around him that mean him no harm. He locks eyes with you and your gaze washes all the fear away, stirring something within him. He wouldn’t have dared do this before, but tonight you’ve given him more than enough courage to attempt this.

Astarion steels himself, and then puts his own arms around you. His undead heart thunders in his chest, fear consuming his mind. What if you pull away? What if you hate his cold touch? What if —

You lean into his embrace, silencing all his fears and nuzzle into his chest. He lets out a breath he never realised he was holding and buries his face into your shoulder, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes. Your embrace is vastly different from the previous embraces he’s had, all you want out of it is a display of love and care, you don’t want his body, you don’t want what he can offer, you don’t want anything in return.

As he continues to hold onto you, never wanting to let go, he lets a hand wander up your back, finding a better position to pull you closer and you hum in response, happily burrowing deeper into his arms.

“I like this, you know,” he whispers. “Whatever it is that we have, I don’t want it to end.”

“I feel the same way,” you whisper back, breathing in his scent. “Let’s stay here like this, the others can survive on their own for a little while longer.”

“I’m sure they can, my love.”

Hugging has definitely made its way to the top of his list of favourite things to do with you, Astarion thinks, listening to your happy hums as you soak in his embrace. He should do this more often.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion x durge #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #astarion fluff #astarion

463 notes · View notes

caraphernellie · 3 months

Text

thank you for the venom // e.w.

summary: suffocating in a small religious town, drowning in your own misery, your own thoughts in which you were led to believe are dirty, disgraceful, unholy - where else can you turn for support other than the church? where else would you want to turn to, when ellie williams, so knowledgeable of the beliefs and teachings of the church, is there to take care of you?

a/n: oh god please don’t hate on me for this 🙏 here’s preacher!ellie. don’t come at me i have religious trauma and am also a big mcr fan so obviously. i am so nervous to post this. i cannot stress enough if this is not ur thing do not read it lmfao. closing my eyes and posting this i wrote it ages ago i dont even remember what it goes like ive been too shy to post it. part 2 where they have rough sex in the church is coming eventually when i get over being shy about that one too. bye

word count: 3.7k (i know.)

warnings: preacher!ellie , fem!reader , religious imagery/references , internalised homophobia (both e and r) , christianity/catholicism , she is so blinded by internalised homophobia , dom!ellie , oral(r!receiving) , fingering(r!receiving) , tribbing , virgin!reader but not innocent , ellie’s actually nice and has good intentions she’s just clouded by religious trauma , sinning , definitely ooc but i tried to make it as 'ellie' as possible , use of pet names : sweet girl , sweetheart , angel , good girl , cutie

“you are aware of the three hail mary devotion?”

ellie looks down at you, kneeling before her by the altar. there’s something unreadable in her gaze. though she looks utterly sympathetic.

“each day, you can seek guidance from the lord by honouring the blessed virgin mary, and you will say three hail marys. you’ll begin each day with a saying.” ellie clears her throat, her gaze unwavering. not even a blink, eyes green as ivy almost sickening you. “i do this everyday myself. ‘o my mother, preserve me this day from mortal sin.’”

“thank you, ellie.”

“you understand that i can’t speak to the lord on your behalf. i am simply the preacher, i am here to provide you comfort and guidance. and i do promise you, if you continue to repent for your sins, god will always forgive. there will always be a spot for you in heaven should you continue to do the right thing. you can acknowledge that these… thoughts… are unholy.”

perhaps there was a reason, that instead of taking yourself to confession, you sought ellie out to ask for guidance, though leaving out a crucial detail. she is the object of your thoughts.

“if it consoles you,” ellie starts, “i have struggled with thoughts of this nature too.”

and like a record screeching, you pause, looking up at the woman. and what a woman she is – black turtleneck, which doesn’t at all hide toned muscles you wish you could see. black slacks, brown boots. shoulder length, auburn hair, and a freckled complexion. she is so respected amongst the members of the parish, always living her life in the holiest of ways, and never would you have thought someone as perfect as ellie williams could have thoughts of sin.

“what?” your voice shakes, and ellie tenses for a moment.

perhaps you could have seen this coming, how there’s often tension thick as a brick wall between the two of you. ellie’s mixed signals ever so confusing.

“sometimes these thoughts get the best of us,” ellie murmurs. she approaches you, and as you look up at her through your eyelashes, she furrows her brows, hardens her gaze. “i have asked god to help me overcome these thoughts. i have had these thoughts and feelings for a long time. yet i repent. you may never get to stop repenting for this. but showing remorse and asking the lord to forgive you is all you need to protect yourself from the devil.”

ellie williams, respected preacher. she devoted her life to the church, wanting to live a life of holiness to make up for those thoughts she couldn’t ignore.

your hands clasped together like a silent, continuous prayer to preserve your own self-control, you open your mouth to speak, when ellie cuts you off.

“i’m glad god brought us together, and caused us to cross paths. you’re a special girl.”

there’s a warm rush of blood going straight to your cheeks, a waver in your voice, and a feeling of deep appreciation pooling between your thighs. “i’m glad too. it’s very comforting… to know that i’m not the only one dealing with these kinds of thoughts. thank you for helping me, and for teaching me that i am not damned. i hope we can both find peace.”

ellie nods slowly, her gaze unfaltering as you rise to your feet. for a moment, you feel that you catch a hint of a different expression – a smirk, one that disappears within seconds. as though she puts on a facade. “we are all born into sin. what matters is that we believe, and we follow the word of god. he knows what’s best for us.”

“and he can lead us back on the right path,” you say, smoothing down your dress, a modest piece, knee length and long sleeved.

ellie is deep in thought when she mumbles her next few words. “in the meantime, i can help you with your sexuality.”

once again, a heavy silence falls over you both as the words hang in the air. ellie’s about to backtrack, when you tilt your head, and her cheeks flush red as wine.

“h– how so..?” you ask, eyeing ellie as she rubs the back of her neck. her signals constantly so mixed, you wonder how you’ve gotten this far. too far to turn back now. her sudden nervous demeanour tells you everything. ellie has her issues, and she is nothing like the perfect preacher everyone respects.

“as a preacher,” ellie says, chuckling in an awkward way, “i should be taking care of people in our town, helping them to overcome their struggles and grow their relationship with god stronger. you are part of that as well.”

and so there it is, the strict and god-fearing ellie back again.

“i’d like to invite you over to my home. to pray, and we can study scripture. i can teach you how to overcome this.” her bottom lip drawn between her teeth, there’s that nervousness again. something impure is implied, her eyes burning into your face for any trace of uncertainty, and in the case that she finds it, she’ll backtrack. “if you’re not interested, just say so.”

and at the thought of what the implications are, you find yourself nodding distractedly, gaze falling towards the crucifix hanging on the wall of the church, and you grow warm with shameful excitement. “yes, i- i can do that. is there a time that suits you, ellie?”

ellie smiles firmly, yet it doesn’t meet her eyes. as if she is having the same mental dilemma as you. “i’m glad. how about tomorrow, 7?”

“of course, i,- yes. i’ll be there. you’re just a walk down the street.”

“perfect,” ellie says, and finally that smile reaches her eyes, an almost teasing twinkle in them, a loving look that doesn’t feel the same as the love she shares with others. “wear something appropriate, alright?”

“uh-huh,” you hum, shrinking under ellie’s gaze, knees buckling.

“i’ll see you soon,” ellie murmurs, voice low. and before you turn to leave, her eyes glance over your body once more. and she doesn’t hide her expression this time. she likes what she sees.

you simply nod your goodbye. as you step down from the altar and bow to the tabernacle, you can feel her stare. you feel it as you walk all the way down the aisle of the church, late afternoon sunlight hitting the stained glass windows just right and casting red shadows over you.

✧✧✧

it’s impossible to make it through the next day. that night when you had left the church, you tried taking ellie’s advice. the hail marys, the devotion. but thoughts crept in, ellie consuming your mind in the most beautiful bittersweet memory. you couldn’t help but to picture what she could do to you, how she could worship you. and the guilt of it had you in tears only after you had came.

at 7pm, you walk down the street to ellie’s house.

and ellie opens the door, not even a greeting slipping past her lips before she speaks. “i like that dress on you.”

and she doesn’t know it, but it eased so much of your nervousness. that you did read the situation correctly. because if you had misread the entire thing, and showed up to ellie’s home in a dress you’ve grown out of, it would have been a certainly difficult situation to navigate. ellie said to dress appropriately. and to you, that meant an older dress that hugs you tightly in the right places, leaving your body looking supple and sweet for her taking.

and should ellie discover what’s underneath the dress, she’ll see just how appropriate you decided to dress for her.

“you look beautiful,” ellie murmurs quieter this time, stepping aside to let you into her home, the brown brick house seeming so inviting at this time of night, warm candlelight lit inside. as you walk in, ellie’s eyes dip down to your exposed thighs, the dress being that short.

“thank you,” you reply, taking a look around the house. dark wood, vintage furniture, candles, crosses everywhere. as ellie leads you to her living room, there are things you take note of that you hadn’t expected. gaming consoles, a dvd stand full of horror films. she doesn’t comment even when she sees your stare, and instead she sets you down on her couch.

“should we start?” ellie asks, a hint of a smile on her lips. “how about we start with a prayer?”

“alright,” you say with a nod, clasping your clammy hands together. ellie grins a little, and does the same, then begins to lead you both in prayer.

“lord, we know that we are sinners. please forgive us for experiencing unholy thoughts about other women, and please guide us to become more like you. please help us to watch our words and actions, and guard us against future mistakes and errors. thank you for sending your son, jesus, to die for our sins — and thank you for your forgiveness. In the name of your son jesus, we pray, amen.”

it’s like with every reminder of your faith, glancing around the room, looking at the red rosary hanging around ellie’s neck, or the bible laying on the coffee table, an insurmountable guilt builds inside you.

ellie eyes a crucifix hanging on the wall, then averts her gaze from it – she simply can’t keep her eyes from wandering to you.

“shall we study now?” ellie asks, voice husky as she reaches for the bible. “i can t–”

“ellie,” you say, eyes pleading with her. your hand meets hers, and you stop her from picking up her bible. “we both know you didn’t invite me here to study scripture.”

ellie freezes, flitting her gaze between your hands, the bible, and your eyes. she’s been caught out. perhaps nervous to make the first move, ellie had switched up again, afraid to do anything that wasn’t innocent, afraid to corrupt you. but the confirmation that you want what she wants is enough.

“no… no, you’re right. you’re not here to talk about scripture with me,” ellie mumbles, a nod accompanying it.

“then…” you begin, fidgeting with the hem of your little dress, tilting your head at ellie with a warm face and trembling legs, white knee high stockings clinging to your calves. “we should… then we should do what you invited me here for.”

a beat.

“are you sure?” ellie asks.

“ellie, i haven’t been able to stop thinking about this,” you say, “haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. so please.”

ellie takes one look at your pleading eyes and your bottom lip between your teeth, and she knows that she’s done for.

“come,” ellie whispers, standing and taking your hand. there’s a faint look in her eyes, and everything feels light and slow as she walks you upstairs, into the bedroom.

ellie’s bedroom is similar to the rest of her house, vintage furniture and low lighting. her queen sized bed is pushed into the corner of the wall. on the nightstand lays another bible, on the wall a cross and portraits she’s drawn or painted herself. there’s a bookshelf filled with mostly religious literature and scientific books about things like astronomy and space. an acoustic guitar sits by the nightstand.

“well,” ellie murmurs, lighting a candle or two on the nightstand, flicking off the main light in the room. she stands across from you, illuminated in a warm candlelit glow. “let’s not waste any more time.”

before ellie does anything else, her hand finds the rosary around her neck. her fingers find the crucifix and she lifts it to her lips, pressing a kiss against it like a silent prayer, one last apology to the god she’s betraying. your heart skips a beat, and within no time ellie’s got a hand on the back of your head, pulling you in.

teeth clashing, hands roaming your body, ellie kisses you like it was the only thing she was made to do in life. she presses her body close to you as her tongue pushes past your soft lips. you’re not quite sure where to put your hands at first, but they settle, cupping ellie’s cheeks to bring her closer. your soft moan is muffled by ellie’s lips, her tongue invading every corner of your mouth, nothing unexplored.

ellie’s hands slide down your body, one gripping your ass over the dress and the other cupping your boob.

pulling away only to catch her breath, ellie pushes you towards the bed, laying you down on your back and climbing on top to continue kissing. she nips your bottom lip with her teeth, every act so desperate, so full of a yearning finally being fulfilled.

she stops kissing you again, this time with her hands reaching for the zipper at the back of your dress. “let’s take this off, sweet girl.”

ellie’s voice is breathless already, and she pants softly as she struggles with the zipper for a moment, her brain moving faster than her hands. she finally manages it, and lifts the dress off you.

you’re quiet, as is ellie. you had anticipated there’d be a reaction to this, the matching set you chose. white and lacy, a bra and panties that match the stockings ellie admired earlier. but nothing could have truly prepared you for ellie’s reaction.

“you are divine,” ellie murmurs, her hand roaming down to your hips. she licks her lips, unable to keep her eyes off of how the bra accentuates your breasts, or how the panties hug your waist. her body language, all too clear of how she truly feels about you, does nothing but cause you to throb inside your panties. “do you trust me?”

the question throws you off. furrowing your brows, but offering a small smile, you reply. “of course i trust you, ellie.”

the soft tone of your voice entices ellie, especially as you take her hand and guide it to your chest, letting her squeeze you through the cup of your bra.

“what a beautiful sin,” ellie whispers, leaning down and attaching her lips to your neck. she’s careful not to leave marks that would be visible, but she squeezes your breast as she kisses and licks a trail down your neck, all the way to your chest.

ellie revels in your soft mewls, the way your thread your fingers into the hair at the back of her head, and hold her against you. her hand reaches behind you, grabbing at the clasp of your bra. and ellie bites down, sucking a bruise into the soft flesh of your breast, where she knows nobody could see it. you arch your back partly in pleasure, but mostly to provide her access to the back of your bra, and ellie pulls it off in no time. her eyes widen as your tits spill out, and she swallows thickly as she watches your nipples grow firm with arousal and the exposure to the air.

ellie’s hand cups your bare tit and squeezes as she brings her face up towards you once more, needing that touch of her lips on yours. her long fingers tweak your nipple, rolling the bud around as she kisses you with a growing passion, groaning into the kiss just as you whine quietly.

ellie chuckles as your hands press into her back, pulling her closer, hugging her and hiding your face away in shame. she kisses the corner of your lips, pausing to soothe you. “shh, let me take care of you. let me worship you, sweet girl.”

you ease your grip on ellie when she says that, and she smiles at you before leaning down. you shiver, feeling the cold metal crucifix of her rosary resting down against your stomach, earning a chuckle from ellie as she wraps her lips around your nipple. she sucks for a moment, then rolls her tongue over it.

ellie’s hand lays flat over your stomach, pinning you down to stop your restless squirming. she moves her leg between yours, her knee pressing a generous amount of friction against your panties.

“h… ellie,” you whisper, “have you done this before?”

ellie looks up at you, and with a grin, she nods. “i have. a long time ago.”

“oh my goodn–” you cut yourself off with a lengthy whine, ellie beginning to suck hickeys all over your chest, from one breast to the other. she gives your other nipple the same treatment, only this time her teeth graze it lightly, and your hand on the back of her head tightens the grip on her hair. “ellie…”

“shh,” ellie hushes you, beginning to kiss down your stomach. “you’re okay.”

your incessant squirming and writhing turns ellie’s grin wider, when she cups her hand over your panties and feels the soaking mess.

“that’s beautiful,” she whispers, her fingers tugging at the waistband now, “this all f’me?”

you nod eagerly, looking down at ellie from where you lay propped up against the plush pillows. any holy thought has left your mind, and it appears to be the same for ellie, who lays between your legs with a cheshire cat smile, stripping the panties down your legs.

“so pretty,” ellie hums, grasping at your thighs and pulling them apart. “tell me, you want me to touch you here?”

a nod simply won’t be good enough this time, and you know that, clearing your throat to speak up hoarsely. “yes, yes please, el… can y– mmff-”

ellie’s fingers rub over your cunt, two fingers spreading the folds, the touch burning hot and electrifying. ellie laughs, not meanly, but sympathetically. “barely touched you yet, cutie. so wet…”

your lips turn down into a pout that makes ellie smirk, and she leans close, leaving a kiss on your throbbing clit.

“c’mon, don’t pout at me,” she whispers, another kiss following the words. “angel…”

you shudder, and then a loud moan escapes your throat as ellie’s tongue flicks out, beginning to lap at you. your body’s responsiveness leaves ellie with so much confidence.

“ellie, ellie,” you mewl, reaching a hand towards her. “ellie, it’s so– mmm…”

ellie reaches her free hand towards you, letting you grab it and intertwine your fingers. she gives a gentle squeeze as she licks a stripe down from your clit to your entrance, then back up again.

ellie can’t get enough of you, of your saccharine taste, staring up at you with blown out pupils as she sucks and laps at you. one of her bony fingers dips into your entrance, and ellie herself groans at the feeling of you clenching around it, but the sound you make is so rewarding that she pushes her ring finger in as soon as she knows you can take another finger. her digits stroke in and out of your sopping cunt, leaving you a whimpering and whining mess.

“c’mon angel,” ellie murmurs against your pussy, “i got you, i got you. ‘s this good?”

you nod, squeezing ellie’s hand in a vice grip, hips bucking against her face eagerly. “ellieeeeuuhh, oh, oh my g–”

“don’t,” ellie warns, “don’t take the lord’s name in vain, and don’t bring him into this.”

“i– s-sorry,” you gasp out, tipping your head back, “oh, oh, ellie, i’m gettin’ close.”

“good girl,” ellie murmurs, keeping the fast rhythm of both her fingers and tongue. “gonna be good and cum f’me?”

“yea, yea,” you say in a breathy voice, more moans leaving your lips, “ohhh, mmfuck, f-fuck, ellie.”

ellie’s ruining you, reduced you to nothing but babbles and moans. you buck your hips up more, rutting fast against her face, and that’s when you hit your peak. with a shriek of ellie’s name, you cream on her fingers, covering them with your slick, allowing them to stroke in and out even quicker.

ellie rides out your orgasm, slowly pulling away when you’re finished. she peppers kisses along your shaking thighs, leaning up to catch your lips in a kiss.

“good, sweet girl?” ellie asks, kissing the top of your head. you nod – but ellie isn’t finished with you, apparent as she begins unbuckling her belt.

“mmm,” you hum, “‘s perfect.”

“alright, angel, c’mere,” ellie says, stripping down to nothing. she sits by the headboard, pulling you onto her lap, hooking a leg over you. “you’re doin’ so good, you know? think you were made to please. good at taking what you’re given.”

“only because i want it,” you say in response, which has ellie chuckling. she grips your waist, grunting when her cunt makes contact with yours.

“good,” ellie says sternly, “because– shit.”

ellie loves how you keel over and press your nose against her neck because of the way your sensitive pussy rubs against her own. she tightens her grip on your waist, fingernails leaving little crescent moon marks in the plush skin as she begins moving you, groaning and moaning at the way your clit bumps against hers. she moves her own hips too, gasping your name.

you breathe soft whines into ellie’s neck, arms wrapped around her, hugging tight. it’s nothing but desperate now, your second orgasm approaching right in time with ellie’s.

“hnng, f-fuck, yeah, you gonna cum again?” ellie asks, squeezing your ass as you move against her. “good girl, cum, c– cum with me, cum with me s– fuck.”

ellie tenses up, hips moving fast to rub your soaking cunts together as you both cum. kissing your temple, ellie gently moves you off of her, running a hand through her damp and sweaty hair. “stay here angel, ‘m gonna clean you up, and we’ll cuddle then, okay?”

you don’t have much of a say in the matter regardless, shaking in the afterglow of ellie’s touch. she comes back moments later, looking a bit cleaner herself, carrying a wet washcloth. she begins to wipe you down, being extra careful around all of your more sensitive areas. she leaves kisses in the wake of her touch.

“you are beautiful,” ellie says in a firm tone. “the most perfect angel i’ve ever seen.”

you can only give ellie a half smile in response, and she drops the washcloth, leaning in and kissing you sweetly.

“don’t stress, you know why? because god always forgives as long as you’re willing to repent.”

ellie climbs into bed, pulling you close with an arm around your waist. she rests her chin on top of your head, a protective hold on you.

“why don’t we say another prayer before we go to sleep?” the preacher asks, tone almost uncertain. is she convincing you, or herself? “he’ll forgive us.”

tags: @dinasvampgf @fadedin2u @machetegirl109 @eurewili @craz1er4you @divinediors @onlinelesbo @thecowardwrites

i'm still trying to sort out my tag list!! it wouldn't let me tag some people. if you wanted to be tagged but weren't pls let me know so i can fix that <3

credits: middle pic in the banner is @switchbladekillerqueen <33 this pic inspired me to write this fic!!

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x you #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ fanfic #tlou x reader #tlou2 x reader

858 notes · View notes