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tacticaldiary · 10 months

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A Cracked And Fissured Door

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"You just...you make me feel like you only want me when nobody's looking."

It stings, if she's being honest. Being kept at an arms length when in public. Most people know about them, so she's not sure why he's so...cold and distant when they're not alone.

Masterlist

"If he sends us out before next week I'm quitting." Soap groans, back cracking as he flops down forward on the bar. "Three ops in a week? What do I look like, a machine?"

Gaz snickers, raising his glass to that. "Bloody might well be at this point."

She hides a smile behind her own drink, leaning back into the bar. They had done three ops in a week, mission after mission after mission. It had been pretty rough, just as Soap said and she was more than ready to crash and burn and sleep for three days straight but abandoning their tradition of getting drinks at this specific bar everything Saturday was not something anyone on the 141 was willing to break.

"Just be glad we got the weekend off." Ghost says from beside her. She smiles warmly at him, is rewarded with a slightly blank look.

The flicker of her smile is hid behind another sip.

"Betcha your gonna take advantage of that, eh?" Soap nudges her, looking pointedly between her and Ghost. The latter rolls his eyes and says nothing.

"Only thing I'm looking forward to is an actual mattress." She knocks back the last of her drink and stands, shrugging Gaz's arm slung over her shoulder. "Speaking of which, I think it's about time we call it a night." Casting a glance at her boyfriend, who merely nods in confirmation and pushes the stool back himself, she nods at the others. "Don't cause too much trouble, boys. Text us when you're home safe, yeah?"

"We just got shot at for a week, don't think a car ride home is gonna be the end of us." Soap snorts.

"You never know." Is all she says before stepping out of the bar with Ghost, who offers her her coat to shrug on.

"Hell of a week." She comments, glancing at him gratefully as she shrugs on the warm fabric.

"Just glad it's over," Simon says simply.

Walking back to their car, she can't help but cast quiet glances at him as they walk. She knows Ghost notices them, chooses to keep looking ahead and keep the silence.

Truth be told, she aches to touch him.

Aches to feel his skin on hers, to feel the callouses of his hands brush against hers. His heat, ever all-encompassing makes her feel safe in a way no bulletproof vest ever could.

"Think I might ask Price to assign me desk duty for a while." She jokes, knocking their shoulders together gently.

To the untrained eye, to someone who might not have been tuned to what makes Simon Simon, it wouldn't have been noticeable, but he leans subtly away so they don't touch again.

She doesn't mention it, but it makes her heart heavy.

It's nothing new. She's not sure why she's even surprised anymore.

Trying again, her arm hangs beside her, purposefully brushing against his gloves. The frown on her face deepens when he shoves his hands into his pockets.

Maybe it's the exhausting week she's had, but it gets to her, infects her heart, mind, and soul with the insecurity she keeps locked behind a cracked and fissured door in her mind.

It stings, if she's being honest.

He's not the most...social person. Closed off and private, but baring her soul to someone she loves and getting so little in return...

Being kept at an arm's length when in public, even though their relationship is not a secret. Most people know, actually, so she's not sure why he's so...cold and distant when they're not alone.

The car ride home is silent, but not in a comfortable way their quiet is usually shared. Simon seems to pick up on it, because he grips the steering wheel a little too hard, the tension in his shoulders a little too foreign.

Gaz had no problem touching her. A friendly punch to the arm, an arm around her shoulder. Soap was a touchy person by nature, nudging her and ruffling her hair.

So why was it that Simon always pulled away?

The one person who should love her the most, who should be proud of loving her...why does he pull away and pretend this thing between them doesn't exist.

She doesn't get it, hasn't understood for the past two years they've been together. Pushing was not something she'd considered given his stubbornness and private nature, but there's no denying she's always felt a twinge of hurt whenever he disregards her in public.

Was he...ashamed? Of her? Did he not want to be seen with her?

The thought latches itself onto her, sucking away the usual confidence she carries and leaving her a nervous mess. It makes her sick. Before she knows it they're back home but she can't find herself to walk any farther than the front door that's shut behind her.

He doesn't comment on it, just casts her an inquisitive look before moving to the kitchen in view.

Simon always did like a cup of tea before bed.

"Simon?" The word comes out a little garbled, caught in her indecision, and morphed into something muffled. He hears it, because of course he does, and hums. Doesn't look up from where he's rifling through the cupboards for his kettle.

The air is cold in her lungs, freezes up with nerves, and this is all so ridiculous. It's stupid and she shouldn't be feeling this way but she does because she just does.

Trust was a precious jewel, a diamond only given to those who trusted enough to keep it unmarred. Necklaces and earrings and bracelets, she feels like she could make millions of intricate pieces with the bits of trust she had bared for Simon to take and keep as his own.

Simon knows what she loves, what she hates, how she feels about anything and everything. The rhyme and reasons, the way she ticks, and what throws her off kilter. He knows it all, it's been given willingly and eagerly to the man who took her heart with that rough demeanour on the tarmac two years ago.

She had given him all her gems, the shiniest and the dullest ones, but he's never even been bothered to spare her a piece of coal.

When she doesn't speak immediately, he pauses his movements and sets down the kettle on the counter with a 'clink'. "What's the matter, love?" He straightens up.

"Do you want to be with me?" She blurts out, unable to fathom leaving this conversation for another day. Not when she's so worked up and hurt and feeling.

His face stays blank, and when he responds it's almost as if he's doing it carefully. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I asked." The sides of her coat are clutched with a knuckle-white grip, nausea making her an inch away from ruining the lovely carpet they'd picked out together when they'd first moved in.

Simon furrows his brows. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"That's not what I asked." Unease starts to curl up in her gut. "Do you like me, Simon?"

"Of course I fucking like you, what are you talking about?"

"You sure don't act like it."

There.

It's in the open now. Simon stares at her for a moment, shocked or stunned or whatever emotion that causes him to clam up for a moment.

He never really was good at this part of their relationship, but this...it was vital. It was important because she refuses to let this problem define what they have together.

"You don't touch me when we're not alone." She starts, "You act like I'm just no one when we're out together. You barely acknowledge me any more than anybody else, pull away when I try to touch you." It feels good to let this all off her chest. Months and months of trying to figure out what was going on. "Tell me why. I just want to know why."

"I'm a private person-"

"No Simon, that's not what this is." She shakes her head, emotion rising inside her. "You just...you make me feel like you only want me when nobody's looking. Like I'm...like you want to keep me a secret."

Her eyes are glassy because saying it hurts so fucking much, but it needs to be said. It needs to be voiced, he needs to listen and acknowledge-

"You know that's not true, so it shouldn't be a bloody problem-"

"Do I?" A laugh burst out of her, unexpected and short. It's enough to cut him off, cause him to narrow his eyes. "You've never told or indicated that to me. Not once. Not in two years."

"It's common sense. I wouldn't be with you if I didn't want you." She can tell he's trying to stay level, to meet her in the middle but all caution gets thrown to the wind because is he really trying to argue with her on this?

"No, it's not." She insists, trying not to raise her voice as anger bubbles up inside her. Was he not getting it? Not understanding that this was hurting her? That he was hurting her? "Sometimes I-..." She swallows, "Sometimes I'll be having a great time, like today. I'll be laughing and enjoying myself and then I'll glance at you, or try and do something as simple as brush shoulders, and I'll watch you push me away. Or pull away." Her voice waver but she fights to keep it steady. "And it makes me feel miserable because what is it about me that makes my own boyfriend not want to accidentally touch me?"

"Why didn't you tell me before?" He says, hackles raised at being put on the spot like this. Ghost doesn't mean to, but this is all so new to him and the only thing he knows how to do in these rapidly changing situations is to be sharp and jagged and tense. "If you're so miserable, why are you still here?"

"Because I love you!" She cries out. "And I can't help but think that I might never get the same back from you." Her grip on her coat tightens.

There's a beat of silence.

"I never asked you to. You knew what you were getting yourself into."

His words cut through the quiet, as sharp as the blades he keeps strapped to his thigh.

"Oh, fuck you." She whispers. "Don't give me that bullshit. That's not an excuse for not trying-"

"Not trying?" His voice gets slightly louder. "I try every day. I try to be someone you deserve but you're bloody well making it difficult when-"

"Just stop!" She yells over him. "Stop. I'm not asking for something you can't give. I'm just asking for an explanation."

"I can't-"

"You can!" To her dismay, her eyes burn with tears that are bound to fall in a few seconds, but she's too far into it to turn around now. "It's been two fucking years, Simon. Two years. I've never pushed or pressured you, I've listened and sat here and tried to be the one you can come to, but you never do." She sniffles, wiping her tears away roughly.

He stays silent, visibly frustrated but letting her talk.

"Do you know what they say back at base?" She spits out. "About me? They say I've forced you into being with me." A hollow laugh. "That I've got some dirt on you that keeps you quiet, or that I'm just someone you pass the time at night with because everyone thinks that you want nothing to do with me during the day. They talk about why we're still together, why you're still with me when you clearly have no interest." Her tears are long forgotten, left to trail down her cheeks in rivers of hurt. "They say...they say I'm only on the 141 because of our relationship."

And that was what hurt the most. Her own skills undermined like that.

That startles him enough to pull his brows in confusion "I didn't know..."

"Of course you don't, why would they say it in front of the man who looks like he could snap their spines in half?"

She waits for him to speak. To say something, anything, but all he does is stare at her with those half-blank eyes that she can never decipher and it infuriates her because did he not just listen to what she's told him.

"You know what, forget it." She chokes out. "I'm done. I'm fucking done with this." She gestures to them both, vaguely watching his eyes widen with muted panic. Getting shoved into a woodchipper would be less painful than the hurt that tears through her chest, hiccupping on swallowed sobs.

"Hold on-"

"I can't be the only one keeping us both afloat." She reaches behind her for the doorknob. "I don't want that. I love you, Simon. I really do, but it hurts so fucking much when you act like I'm disposable, like you're ashamed of being seen with me."

The door is pulled open by her, and then roughly shoved shut by Simon. He moves quicker than she could register, behind the counter one moment and right in front of her the next. His hand stays firmly on the door, keeping it shut as he leans down to catch her gaze.

"Ashamed is the last thing I am about you." He says quickly, clumsily. "I-...fucking hell that's not right at all, love."

Simon is...he's panicking.

The thought strikes her immediately with the way his chest rises and falls quickly, the lack of that cold clipped grace in his voice.

"I don't care." She chokes on a cry, hands planting themselves firmly on his chest to shove him away. It's like nudging a brick wall. The man is immovable, standing in place with their bodies so close it feels like they're sharing heat. "I'm tired, and you're making it worse so let me go." He grabs her wrists, presses them against himself to keep her in place. His hands are warm, rid of the gloves he usually dons.

She's met with every inch of that scarred face of his. She hadn't noticed but he'd discarded his mask as he'd been rushing around the counter to get to her.

"Listen to me." He breathes, trying to get his thoughts straight and keep her there with him. He can't lose her, can't let her walk out the door because he's afraid that she might never come back. "Please."

It's the last word that pauses her struggle. Simon...he was someone who operated on orders and demands so the frantic and silent plea pushed into the word is enough to make her still for a moment.

And a moment is all he needs.

"I've never..." He thinks for a moment. Never has she seen him look so frazzled. He tries again. "Everyone I've ever loved has been killed." Her eyes widen at the declaration. "My family. My friends...everyone." His breath fans over her face with how he's leaned down, hot so very him. "I think I'm afraid if I show the world I love you it might try and take you from me too." Simon's voice breaks at the end, as if he's voiced something from his nightmares and despite the pain she's feeling the sound slices through her. "And I can't...I can't live with losing you too."

With bated breath, he waits for her to respond. Part of him can't bear to look her in the eyes after the admission but he finds himself staring at her face anyway, drinking in any sign of hope.

Hope. How long has it been since he's felt the warm rays of such a feeling?

Slowly, so slowly it makes his breath hitch, she tugs her hand free on his. For a moment Simon thinks she might push him away again and his heart sinks like a stone, but then her fingertips graze his face, her hands cup his cheeks and suddenly they interlock behind his head, pulling him in.

Simon crushes her into him, tucking her head under his chin with a shuddering breath of relief. He's not lost her, not completely.

Hope.

There was still such a thing for a man like him after all.

"I'm not going anywhere." She mumbles into the crook of his neck, the feeling of his lips moving on his skin sending a shiver up his spine. "I'm so sorry, Simon. If you'd told me that before I would have tried to help-..."

Simon shakes his head immediately, arms tightening around her. "I chose not to tell you. The thought of coming home and seeing you on the ground...bloody...like them." He swallows past the lump in his throat. "Fuck, I'm sorry I hurt you, sweetheart."

Simon didn't apologise often, so when he did that means he knows he's fucked up.

She does not tell him it's alright, that she forgives him or that he's fine. Because he's not. His apology, his honesty doesn't make the months of hurt go away. It still aches at her like before, but this time the ache has a meaning behind it. It has a reason.

They hold each other for a moment, against the door, two people knee-deep in a problem that's been brewing for weeks and weeks, bubbled over the edge in the ugliest way possible.

"I need you to try." She whispers after a moment, the barest of smiles gracing her face when he nods slowly.

"I know." He says simply against her hair. Gently swaying in each other's hold, both are content to stay there for a while, to calm their racing hearts with the knowledge that the other is still there, is real and solid under their hands.

And it's enough.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Change is a slow trek to an ever extending finish line.

Simon keeps his word. If there's anything it's good at, it's resilience. Though it makes him antsy and paranoid and dare he say slightly nervous to open such a part of him to somebody again, he tries.

He tried because he'd rather saw his own arm off than be the one who gives her a reason to leave. Not her. Not the best thing that's happened to him in years, the person who's managed to wake up Simon after years of being Ghost.

A subtle brush of hands as they walk.

An arm around her shoulder while they drink.

Thighs and sides pressed together as they take their seats on a heli.

The squeeze of her knee from under the table.

It builds and builds into something warm and new and fresh, a feeling that overshadows all the worry he had about the universe having a vendetta against him because if there was one good thing that Simon Riley wanted to keep, it was her.

Their weekend is filled with conversations, real conversations about things they've kept to themselves, worries and concerns, and moments of hesitance. He tries his best, though some words die on his tongue before he can get them out. She pushes him, but never more than he can take. Heart, body, and soul, she knows him like the back of her hand but he's the only one who can truly let her into his mind.

All that aside Simon also has another more personal task to work through once their weekend is over.

After paying some not-so-nice visits to more than a dozen people (to his absolute fury), she never once hears a peep of another disgusting rumour ever again.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(26/07/2023)

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penny00dreadful · 3 months

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And They Were Roommates!

Part 2 AO3

Steve didn’t hate him exactly.

He was just… vastly irritated by his very presence.

When they’d fallen into being roommates with Eddie, Steve and Robin were just happy to have anywhere to live.

They’d spent a few weeks living in the ageing BMW after they’d gotten booted by their previous landlord when the rent had spiked again and they couldn’t afford to pay it anymore.

Then Dustin had come to them saying he had a friend that had a spare bedroom that he needed to fill and they had jumped at the chance.

It wasn’t a terrible apartment, all things considered.

The bathroom needed a bimonthly mould clean out and the water pressure was nonexistent. It was almost always colder inside than it was outside, no matter how hot the weather got and the front door had clear signs of being broken down before, with a new lock haphazardly slapped over where the old one had been but it was shockingly quiet and secluded.

A small and unassuming building that people tended to glance over sitting close enough to the city centre so that everything was within walking distance. It was twice the size of the place Steve and Robin had lived before, an open plan kitchen and sitting room with enough room for a dining table creating a barrier between the two.

A nice dining table too.

One that could fit more than two people.

Two bedrooms, one bathroom.

Eddie had apparently wrinkled his nose at the idea of sharing with a couple but Steve and Robin weren’t about to correct him. He was a completely unknown person who seemed to make it his mission to look mean and scary, no matter what Dustin said about him.

So Steve refused to feel bad about making assumptions.

But the guy was less mean and scary and mostly just annoying.

He left his shit everywhere, like he’d never heard of fucking organisation before. And he was so loud and exuberant all the time. Like yeah, they guy could enjoy his passions or whatever but that didn’t mean Steve had to like being an unwilling participant in it.

When Robin moved out, Steve stayed even though it was clear Eddie would have preferred if he'd gone too.

He wasn’t going to give up a good place just because his roommate was a lot.

And he certainly wasn’t going to give up a good place just because his roommate kept dropping hints he wanted his special someone to move in and Steve to move out.

Steve would show Eddie the meaning of stubborn.

They bickered like an old married couple constantly and Steve couldn’t exactly say that he hadn’t risen to the bait or caused his own fair share of problems between the two of them either.

Things had only marginally shifted once Eddie had proudly stuck up a flyer advertising the set list for the Pride Parade After Party that his band had somehow been signed to perform at.

When he caught Steve looking at it one morning he’d levelled him with his smuggest smile, like he’d just won some kind of argument. Like he was just waiting for Steve to go on a homophobic rant and run out of the apartment, never to return.

“Got a problem there, Stevie boy?”

Eddie crossed his arms loosely over his chest and leaned back against the kitchen counter with a feral look in his eyes, itching for a fight.

Steve had just turned to him with his sharpest, most cutting grin and lifted open the zippered side of his bomber jacket, revealing his bi pride flag patch sewn to the inner pocket.

“No.”

Eddie had glared at the patch like it had personally offended him before storming off to his room with a scowl.

After that, the barbs thrown at each other had gotten a little more… queer.

After one particularly frustrating argument, Steve had snapped at Eddie “I know how to keep a fucking shower drain clean, Mary.” before snatching his keys up and slamming the door behind him.

When Steve had finally seen fit to talk to Eddie again, nearly two full days later, huffing at him to hurry up in the kitchen, he wanted some coffee, Eddie had turned with the most exaggerated face of surprise and his hands thrown up in shock as he proclaimed, “She speaks!”

Steve had rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Jesus, you’re such a queen.”

Eddie had levelled him with his own cutting smile and responded, “That I am, darling.”

After that their arguments were full of a lot more condescending and patronising ‘Mary’s and ‘sweetie’s and ‘oh, honey’s.

It gave Steve the strangest feeling of companionship. Not only with Eddie, loathe as he was to admit it, but also with the culture and with the queers of old who were still around, who’d had to kick and spit and fight just to be seen.

Eddie had been buzzing around the apartment all day.

It was A Big Date Night™ apparently.

He was gonna ask the boyfriend to take a road trip with him back to Indiana to meet Wayne, a big step that he’d never made with a partner before.

Steve liked Wayne. But he liked even more how irritated Eddie was that they spoke. Wayne had called the apartment one day looking for his nephew and when Steve answered he heard the sounds of a game in the background and asked about it.

It was over forty five minutes later Steve turned to find Eddie staring at him with a horrified expression on his face and Steve couldn’t help the evil glint in his eye as he continued to debate Wayne on their favourite players.

But Eddie had left hours ago now and it was getting… late.

Really, really late.

Like four in the morning late and he hadn’t come home yet.

He was supposed to, he needed to be up the next morning for his shift at the nerd shop he worked at and he loved that job. He wouldn't miss it for anything.

Steve wasn’t like, worried or anything.

Not that Eddie needed to be babied, he wasn’t one of his kids.

He was just… looking out for the safety of another human being.

The only light in the dark apartment was coming from the low glow of the tv and it was so quiet there was barely a sound coming from the speaker. Steve was curled up on the couch, swaddled in a throw and his mind kept drifting.

He couldn’t pay attention to whatever was playing, his brain just kept catastrophising about what the fuck could have happened to make Eddie so late.

He nearly jumped out of his skin and simultaneously felt his body unclench when he heard a key in the lock and recognised Eddie's wild head of hair coming into the apartment.

But that didn’t last long because Eddie caught the door before it could close with a loud snap like it usually did, shutting it slowly and softly behind him.

It was alarming because Eddie never remembered to close the door quietly, no matter how much Steve bitched at him. And it wasn’t like he was doing it on purpose, Steve knew that, it’s just that his mind was most often somewhere else, focused on some other thing so that he simply… forgot.

Eddie cursed low to himself as he slumped into the kitchen, pulling the freezer door open and rummaging around for a bit before pulling something out.

He kept his head low, hair spilling out around his face as he jumped up onto the counter and sat.

He still hadn’t noticed Steve sitting there, watching the whole exchange under the dim flickering light of the television.

It looked like Eddie had snatched up a bag of Steve’s frozen peas. And they were Steve’s. Because Eddie didn’t eat anything green unless it was artificially coloured and covered in sugar.

Eddie squeezed the peas in hand hands, considering, before he muttered to himself, “so fucking stupid” and brought them up to rest on the side of his face.

That kicked Steve into action, unfurling himself from the couch, keeping his throw around his shoulders because it was fucking cold and he padded over to the kitchen in his fluffy socks.

“Eddie?”

Frozen peas scattered, skittling across the tiled floor, landing in the sink, ricocheting off the cupboard doors and clattering off the walls as Eddie jumped violently at the sound of his name, softly spoken as it was.

He’d snapped his head up and Steve could see, in the dim light of the tv behind him, unusual darkness spreading over Eddie’s face, like a stain on his pale skin.

Eddie tightened his hands again around the now mostly empty bag, looking back down at it.

“‘M sorry about your peas.” He mumbled.

Steve could only blink in response.

Eddie wasn’t supposed to mumble.

He wasn’t supposed to be quiet and subdued and wilted.

He was supposed to be loud and brash and tawdry and bright.

“I’m gonna turn the light on, okay?” Steve tried to keep any rising panic and worry out of his voice, tried to keep himself calm and level. He could barely just make out the small nod Eddie gave after a beat of hesitation.

The light was harsh and painful after so long spent in mostly darkness and Steve had to squint through his glasses waiting for his eyes to adjust, but when they did he felt his stomach drop.

Eddie's face was scrunched up as he tried to blink through brightness but that wasn’t what caught Steve’s attention.

Because there was blood crusting on the side of Eddie’s face, settled around his eye and in his hair from a gash over his eyebrow. His lip was split and puffy and swollen and his cheek was slowly blooming from red to purple.

“You should see the other guy.” Eddie grinned with a wince, when he noticed Steve cataloguing, but his eyes stayed distant and sad.

“What…” Steve stepped closer, hovering his hand over the injuries, over his hair. “What happened?”

Eddie shrugged, dipping his eyes back down to the melting bag of peas in his hands. “We had a disagreement.”

Steve looked down too and gently took the peas out of his grip, placing the bag in the sink next to them.

It was only then that he noticed Eddie’s knuckles were bloodied as well, split and starting to swell.

He had to swallow against the sickening anger coiling in his throat as he closed a gentle hand around Eddie’s cold fingers and he tugged it over to the sink, turning the tap on.

“Your peas-”

“Fuck the fucking peas, Eddie!” Steve snapped before trying to reel himself back in when Eddie flinched, nearly pulling his hand away but stopping himself at the last moment.

With the softest movements he could manage, Steve got Eddie’s fingers as soapy as he could before slowly working his rings left and right, pulling them off his fingers.

“What are you doing?” It wasn’t quite a whisper but the question was low, almost like a hum.

“Your fingers are going to start to swell soon. I can leave them on if you’d rather have them cut off later?” Steve looked up to see Eddie watching their hands working together under the dribble of the tap.

He shook his head.

“Well okay then.” He tugged the last ring free and examined them, silver and wet and heavy in his palm.

There was still some dried blood in the grooves.

“Did you at least get him good with these?” He gestured to them before placing them carefully to the side and gently towling Eddie’s injured hand dry.

A smirk tugged at the uninjured side of Eddie’s mouth. “You’re damn right I did.”

Steve gave a short sharp nod, placing Eddie’s hand back in his lap. “Good.”

He moved over to the freezer, pulling out his own cold compress which Eddie hadn’t chosen for some reason and tugging the first aid kit from on top of the fridge.

“So are you going to tell me what happened?” He said, trying to keep his voice even and his posture lighthearted as he laid the stuff out next to Eddie’s leg. He pulled their second drawer open and took a clean dish towel out, running it under the tap.

“Why, Stevie? You worried about me?” Eddie tried to grin but it quickly turned into a grimace as Steve pressed the damp cloth against the cut on his eyebrow, his lips turning down.

“Don’t be precious about it, honey. Just tell me. I’ll never stop pestering you until you do.” He pulled the cloth away and started gently brushing it across Eddie’s skin, trying to remove as much of the dried blood as he could.

“Alright, alright, keep your wig on.” Eddie huffed and pulled his mouth into a frown before shrugging again. ”Well I’m single now.”

Steve managed to keep his hands working, only halting for just a second as the words hit him. “Rick did this?”

“Yep.” Eddie said with a pop. “Everything was going good, you know. Standard date stuff, whatever. Then I asked him to come meet Wayne and he looked at me. Said, and I quote; ‘What exactly do you think this is?’”

Eddie snorted and shook his head.

Steve was forced to pull the cloth away to stop tugging on the broken skin. “Wait so-”

“So apparently I’ve been seeing this whole thing as more serious than it was. Apparently I’ve been putting feelings where there were none. And get this,” he grabbed Steve’s hand, stalling his movements again and forcing him to look into those giant deep brown eyes, “he’s married.”

Steve felt his mouth drop open in an indignant stare. “No.”

“Yeah. I know, right? I’ve been the other woman this whole time.” He brought his hands up to make air quotes. “Just a bit of fun.” He tongued at his split lip. "And it's my problem, my fault that I didn't figure it out, according to him." He shook his head, forcing Steve to retract his hand from around his eye. "The fucker took his wedding band off every time we met, so…"

Rather than grabbing Eddie gently by the chin, which he was really, quite horrifyingly tempted to do, he instead said, "Be a dear and stop moving."

Eddie levelled him with a glare but there wasn't much behind it, it was all performative even as he tutted and started twisting the chain on his jeans around in his fingers. But he stopped moving his head.

"So how did that lead to this?"

Eddie scoffed. "How do you think, Mary? I got mad."

"Well good. You should've been mad. Did you throw the first punch?"

"Technically?" Eddie hummed in consideration. "Yes. But he had his hands on me before that soo…"

Steve froze, he couldn’t help it.

What the fuck?

"In what way?" He kept his voice light but the bright white concern underneath was like a foghorn.

Eddie shrugged again and turned his head, giving Steve more access to the blood crusted above his ear and into his hairline.

Then he leaned forward just a little bit more until his forehead was resting against Steve's shoulder.

Steve reached back to pull Eddie's hair out of the way, over the back of his neck so he could clean up his hairline.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments, the silence wasn't tense but it wasn't calm either. It was anticipatory. Eddie was building himself up to answer.

"He didn't see a problem with the situation, I mean obviously he didn't see a problem with the situation so he just wanted to… continue, I suppose. We'd been… experimenting with switching before this and he tried to go full dom on me. Kept trying to get me to submit." Eddie's voice had started to shake even though he tried valiantly to keep it down and it made Steve wonder just how long he'd been keeping it down already.

Steve dropped the cloth off in the sink and brought a hand up, resting it on the back of Eddie's still bent head, making sure not to cage him in, making sure to keep his touches light and gentle but still there if he wanted them.

"I didn't- I didn't want to anymore but he just kept going and I told him he wasn't asking my consent, he was demanding it. He said I had to do what he wanted because he was in charge and that’s how it works-”

“Eddie, that is not how it works-”

“Yes, thank you, darling. I know that. I told him that wasn't what's done, no matter the dynamics and he was just getting more and more pissed off, like I was ruining his fun and he wouldn’t get off of me so I just… fucking decked him." Eddie laughed, a terrible broken thing. “I thought… I thought we had… it had been so good while… why can’t I have… why does it always have to end like this?”

His voice had become harsher, more defeated as he went on, cracking and pitching along the words until the end. Until a heart wrenching choked off sound was pulled from his throat.

Eddie was weeping softly into Steve’s shoulder and his hands were twitching in his lap, like he wanted to reach out, like he wanted some comfort but didn’t know if he was allowed.

But he must have decided he didn’t care if he was allowed or not because the next second he’d thrown his arms around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him in tight, sniffling openly and freely into his neck.

Steve took the tiniest of steps closer and wound his arms around Eddie’s middle, bypassing his leather jacket and battle vest, snaking his arms underneath until there was just the threadbare band t-shirt between them.

He ran a hand up and down Eddie’s back as he shook, while Eddie just clutched on tighter.

“Why does it always have to be… why can’t I… why…” a terrible little sob broke out of Eddie’s throat. “Why does no one ever want me the way I want them?”

Steve had to pinch his eyes shut against the pure heartbreak in his voice, coming out halting and thick and so small.

He just held him tighter, whispering little placating words and small shushes that he felt more in his chest than he did his throat.

He hesitated for just a moment before placing a light little kiss to the side of Eddie’s head, into his hair. The same kind of kiss he’d give to Robin or one of the kids if they were in the same situation.

That was all.

“God.” Eddie muttered, pulling back and scrubbing his hands roughly over his eyes and nose, apparently uncaring of his injuries. “Your shirt is fucking disgusting.” He eyed the stains and wet patches and no doubt little traces of blood he’d accidentally left there. “What makes you think that’s an appropriate state to appear in?”

Steve just rolled his eyes, taking the lighthearted jab for what it was, a want to move on, to start snarking again and cracked open the first aid kit.

“Your face is disgusting.”

“Yeah, well. You’re the one who’s been cleaning me up, sweetheart. So, who’s fault is that?”

He glanced up at the cut over Eddie’s eyebrow.

“That might need stitches.”

“No stitches, can’t be bothered with stitches.”

“Stitches not punk enough for you?”

Eddie did glare at him for that.

“Don’t even. You know I’m not a punk.”

Steve grinned at him. “No?”

“Steven.”

Even through the heavy talk, Steve relished the sight of the slight smile that had appeared on Eddie’s face and his return to bitchy banter.

“Edward, is there a difference?” Steve shrugged as he fished for supplies in the kit. “Doesn’t seem to be.”

“To you, maybe.” Eddie flicked at a piece of his hair. “God you’re such a… you’re such a jock.”

“Wow,” Steve raised his eyebrows, “let’s add observant to your list of positives.”

“Assho-ow!” Eddie shrieked as Steve pressed a butterfly bandage over the wound.

“You’re a giant pain in my ass.”

“Only if you ask nicely,” Eddie growled at him, irritated and snappy, “you perpetual bottom.”

“Excuse you,” Steve snapped back, “I switch it up. I have versatility."

“Uh-huh.”

“But you gotta admit,” Steve flashed his most charming grin, “it’s a lovely bottom.”

Eddie scoffed but there was a red flush starting to creep up his neck. “S’not like I pay much attention to your bottom.”

“Oh, Eddie,” Steve gave a disappointed sigh, “everyone pays attention to my bottom.”

He didn’t get a response, just a bitchy roll of the eyes.

“You gonna call out of work tomorrow?” He dropped the cloth into the sink and crossed his arms as Eddie leaned back on his hands.

“Why? So you can mother hen me all day? No, thank you.”

“Oh sweetie.” Steve regarded him with mock sympathy. “You think you’d be lucky enough to get my mothering?”

“What if I die in my sleep tonight? You’d be inconsolable.”

“Yeah. Simply devastated.” He said as he all but pushed Eddie off the counter and herded him back to his room.

Part 2 AO3

@augustjustice @geekymagicalpotato @wormdebut (I remember you showing interest for this one but I won't tag you again unless you ask! 😘)

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation.

Divider by firefly-graphics

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #penny00dreadful #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #fanfic #pennys anniversary event #robin buckley #enemies to lovers #roommates au #roommates

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unoislazy · 6 months

Text

Healing Takes Time

Injured! Mizu x Reader

Summary: you’re just a simple healer minding your business, avoiding a fight that had broken out along your street when suddenly an extremely wounded strange man ends up at your door.

Disclaimers; very soft angst, nothing too bad.

Mizu’s pronouns shift depending on the POV

————————————————————

Blood.

Something that Mizu was all too familiar with. The blood of her enemies, her families, even her own. She had seen what could be considered more than the average person's fair share of bloody disputes. That’s been her life, that’s what everything ends in for her.

Blood.

And now, here she was again, drenched in blood. Laying on an empty street surrounded by her foes that she had successfully taken down but not without costing herself a lot of her own energy. She lay there, the only movement coming from her was the shallow rising and falling of her chest as her breathing became more labored. She could barely keep her eyes open as she looked up at the sky.

She wanted to move, she needed to move, she had to finish what she started. She had to get up, this couldn’t be where she died. Not now.

With all the might left in her, Mizu wearily got herself off the ground, propping herself up on whatever she could find around her, standing up as tall as she could without making the pain unbearable. A hard feat to accomplish considering the several broken bones now housed within her body, the slashes she endured that were still leaking blood, and the bruises that had already begun to form in every area. She was in a bad shape, and she knew that, but she couldn’t just let go. She had to continue.

Mizu continued to try to walk, holding herself up with any object near her, but after a certain point she realized she truly wasn't going to get very far. Her mind had become very dizzy and her eyes began to cross.

Before she knew it she had collapsed on the hardwood floor just outside of someone’s house.

Luckily that house belonged to you.

You heard the commotion outside and hid somewhere within your house. You didn’t want to get involved, and you didn’t need to, so you wouldn’t. You had only begun to come out of hiding once you couldn’t hear the fighting anymore.

You sighed in relief, hoping it would be awhile before the next fight would break out. Fights usually broke out on your street, with all the men being thrown out of the different houses for not paying properly or not following the rules. But this fight was much different, much more brutal. The person in the middle you had only gotten a glimpse of before you rushed inside, you couldn’t make out much of them from the distance you were at but they were quite lanky compared to the men they were fighting.

For some reason, you had hoped they had won. Why? You couldn’t tell. People always make assumptions off of the little information they have, and you guessed this was just one of those times.

You rose from your crouched spot, readying yourself to continue whatever activity you had stopped halfway through. You carefully walked towards your door and just as you were about to open it, you heard a loud thump come from the other side.

You jumped back in shock, your hands trembling. What if they were here to get you next? What if they saw you looking and they didn’t want any witnesses? A thousand questions ran through your mind at a million miles a second. You had no idea what to expect from the other side of the door, and you really didn’t want to find out.

And yet, here you were, about to open the door anyways. Your curiosity was getting the better of you. After all, you didn’t hear any other movement, so who or whatever was just dropped on your doorstep was probably of no harm… right?

Your hands still shook with fear as you approached the door, you very carefully grabbed it, slid it open and to your surprise you now faced what you had thought to be a dead body. It didn’t take long for you to realize it was the same person who had been in the middle of the fight. Looks like they won… not by much though.

All you could manage was to stare at what you thought to be a motionless body, devoid of any signs of life. But as you looked closer, continuing to stare you realized.

“They’re alive?” You shouted to literally no one. You panicked a bit, it had been a long time since you had had to work on wounds, especially on someone who seemed to be on the brink of death. You had to act and you had to act fast.

As quickly and as gently as you could, you dragged the person into your house, and sat them in a comfortable position. They groaned a bit as you moved them which was a good enough sign. You had noticed that they also had a sword with them, a katana to be precise.

Maybe they were a samurai?

You shook your head, that wasn’t important right now. Regardless of whether they were a samurai or not, they were bleeding to death and you had to stop it.

You grabbed their sword and rushed back inside, leaning it on the wall before rushing off to grab your kit of medicines that you always kept in the same area of the room if you ever needed to use it again. You had begun to work on them immediately, sewing the open wounds, serving them medicines, feeding them. It was a lot of work for some stranger who just plopped down on your doorstep suddenly.

Four days.

You had been taking care of this person for almost four full days and they didn’t seem to make any signs to signal consciousness. You feared the worst, maybe you hadn’t gotten there in time, maybe you should try a different medicine?

On the bright side, their wounds had closed properly, and seemed to be healing which made you think they were getting better they just needed more rest.

You sighed, standing up and stretching, turning away from the body that still lay fairly motionless. You tried your best and that was truly the most you could do. Although, you truly didn’t want to have to deal with someone’s death on your hands but hey, you weren’t the one fighting them so really this situation could’ve just been avoided all together.

You sat in silence thinking to yourself, paying not a singular ounce of attention to what you assumed to be a man behind you. Why would you? You thought he was unconscious.

Well she was. But now, her eyes had fluttered open, seeing your back fully turned to her. Mizu panicked, not knowing where she was, what had happened to her while she was out. The first thing she tried to look for was her sword, but it was nowhere near her, which meant she was just going to have to take you out herself.

You still hadn’t noticed that the strange man had woken up, but by the time you did, he was already in the process of knocking you over. You were caught so off guard you had no time to even grab onto anything as you fell. You hit the ground and you hit it hard. Your head smacked against the hardwood floor, the rest of your body hitting the ground with a thump, similar to that of the one you heard when you had found the strange man at your door.

You took a second before trying to get back up, only to be slammed back down once again, hands pinned to either side of your head. You gasped, it was truly all you could manage to do as you tried to process what in god's name was even happening to you. One minute you’re standing, the next you’re on the floor with the once unconscious man now straddling you like there was no tomorrow.

“Seems like you’ve healed more than I thought.” You tried to joke. You were very clearly terrified, you had no idea what this person was capable of but if they had taken out a group of men on their own you didn’t even want to begin to think what they could do to you if they saw you as a threat.

“Who are you, where am I?” He asked threateningly, still holding onto your wrists as tight as possible. It stung a bit but you couldn’t blame them for acting in such a way. Anyone would be frightened if they woke up in some strangers house without any means of defending themself.

“I’m just a healer, You’re in my house, you collapsed outside four days ago and I brought you inside to help.” You explained frantically. You hadn’t realized until just then that you had two strikingly blue eyes staring at you. Again, that wasn’t entirely important to the situation at hand but you couldn’t help but be fascinated by them.

The man’s eyes had softened slightly as he looked down at himself, his bloodstained clothes had dried but he had noticed, and felt, some stitches along his arms, and one are on his back. Once he confirmed your explanation to be true, he got off of you, not without groaning in pain a few times. The adrenaline must have kept him from initially feeling the injuries that still remained on his body.

“I gave you medicines and stitched up any injuries I could see. I didn’t feel it appropriate to try and… remove your clothing and all.” You explained, it was a true explanation but you felt embarrassed having to say it regardless.

“Thank you.” He responded quietly, his eyes seemed as if they were glued to the ground before he then looked back to you.

“I’m… sorry for reacting like that.” He apologized, his hands now resting on his lap as he sat on his knees, facing you.

“It’s fine, I’m sure anyone waking up in a strange place would’ve reacted the same way. Maybe not with as much skill.” You joked but it didn’t seem to gain any reaction from the still nameless man in front of you.

“I must get going.” He stated, readying himself to stand. You raised an eyebrow at him, truly not believing his statement. You both knew he was in no shape or form to even be walking around. The fact he had gotten up so swiftly the first time was astonishing.

“Whatever you need to do it will have to wait, you still need to rest.” You began, earning a slight glare from the man. You had never received such a glare from anyone and his blue eyes only enhanced the icy feeling he gave. It was clear he was very determined to leave and not much was going to change his mind, so you continued, “Unless you can walk out that door on your own without using anything for help.”

The door was not that far away, it was an easy walk for anyone who was uninjured. The man clearly took this as a challenge as he stood up, you alongside him in case he fell back.

“I don’t need any help.” He groaned, trying to discreetly hold the side of his torso to quiet the pain.

“Mhm, whatever you say. Just walk towards the door.” You challenged. He huffed, taking one singular step forward before immediately losing his balance and falling into you.

“That’s what I thought.”

You carefully wrapped his arm over your shoulder and helped him back over to the bed that you had laid out for him.

“You need to rest.” You ordered and clearly he was not in a strong enough state for him to argue at all.

“By the way… you never gave me your name. It would be helpful to know considering it seems like you might have to stay here for a while.”

His eyes turned to you, at this point you figured it was the only part of his body that he could move without evoking anymore pain.

He paused for a moment, clearly deep in thought on whether he should give you his name or not. He took a deep breath before responding,

“Mizu. My name is Mizu.” He shared quietly. You smiled in response, glad that he at least seemed to trust you enough to let you know his name.

“Well then Mizu, you need to rest. I’ll make some more soup for you to eat later.”

He nodded quietly before lightly shutting his eyes. You found yourself staring at the man for a bit longer than you probably should have before turning back to start making the soup for him.

Mizu had ended up staying much longer than he had initially anticipated but it turned out he was a lot more hurt than either of you realized. It took him another few days before he could get up and walk around without help, but he still clearly needed a little while longer at least for some of his bones and other injuries to heal.

“You are seriously impatient.” You groaned, watching as the man had grabbed his sword in preparation to go out training yet again.

“I need to train.” He stated plainly, as he made his way towards the door.

“Mizu, I just redid some of your stitches yesterday. You have to give it time before you go back to training or you’re going to keep reopening them.” You scolded, stirring the ladle that sat in the dish of medicine. He paid you no mind as he walked out the door, going to the exact same area in the woods he had been going to for about a week now. Practically the moment he was able to stand on his own he had insisted he was at least well enough to train, and despite your arguments, he always went out anyways. And despite your arguments, he always came back needing more stitches. You had repaired his clothing for him at some point during his stay and while he was thankful, this meant repairing your previous stitches had been a lot more difficult. Luckily the only ones that kept opening were the ones on his arms so there was no real need to have him undress.

You sighed, pouring out some of the medicine into a separate dish before getting up to occupy yourself with something else. You hadn’t had to use any of your medicinal knowledge in a long time. Most people who lived around this area didn’t usually have a need for it considering they were usually too drunk to realize they needed medical help. Sure you had knowledge but you didn't have a business for it, so you didn't exactly go out of your way to help. That being said, if someone wound up at your door needing help, your door was always open.

Not much time had passed before Mizu returned, and just like you had expected, he returned with reopened wounds.

“Is it the ones on your arm?” You asked, to which he nodded before stopping himself.

“And the one on my back.” He responded. You let out a long drawn out sigh in response. Of course, you enjoyed Mizu’s company. He may not say much, but him just being there gave you a feeling you haven't really felt before. You couldn’t exactly place it, but you enjoyed his company. That being said, you didn’t enjoy having to stitch him up all the time. This time you were not allowing him to leave until his wounds properly healed.

Luckily you wouldn’t need him to fully undress, it was just on his back after all so there was no harm in it.

“Then you get yourself situated, I’ll go get the materials.” You sighed, walking to a different room as Mizu went to sit in his usual spot. Once you returned, you were faced with Mizu’s bareback, which was unsurprisingly very toned. You couldn't help but admire his physique before you heard him say,

“Are you just going to stare or are you going to help?”

“Right.” You replied, embarrassed to have been caught staring. You quickly set your things down behind him and got yourself situated. You raised your hand, your fingers very gently tracing the outside edges of the wound which you had noticed caused Mizu to flinch.

“Sorry.” You apologized. It was just something you did in your own practice, you don’t know why but it somehow helped with you visualizing how you were going to stitch it back up. Without another word, you carefully began your procedure. Mizu had always been pretty good about not moving when it came to stitches, you assumed he had to deal with it a lot.

It didn’t take long for you to finish. You sat back, admiring your work before realizing that there was also a wound on his shoulder.

“I should probably do the one on your shoulder too but I can't reach it from back here. Do you mind turning around?” You asked which caused Mizu to hesitate. You didn’t understand why at first, you simply thought he was just going to say he could tough that one out.

“Mizu please, It could get infected if I don’t work on it.” You pleaded, to which Mizu sighed. You stared at him with a visibly confused expression before he slowly turned around to face you.

Clearly it didn't take long for you to realize why he had hesitated in the first place.

However, you paid no mind to it. You were a healer after all, you had to be able to heal all parts of the body so it was something you would’ve had to have gotten used to sooner or later.

Just as you had done before, your fingers softly traced the outside of the wound on her shoulder, earning a hiss from Mizu. You apologized again, just as you had done before. Because of the location of this wound, you unfortunately had to get a bit closer to Mizu’s face than either of you would have preferred at this point in time. You had to be able to see what you were doing of course. She simply just looked in the opposite direction, focusing on one of the paintings you had hanging on your wall.

This was probably the closest either of you had been to each other ever since you met, which to be fair by this point was not that long ago. It was also the first time in a long time either of you had been in a close proximity to… well anyone really. It was uncomfortable at first, but you both relaxed into the closeness after a few minutes.

“So, how long have you been fighting for?” You asked, trying to break the silence a bit. You two had gotten to know each other a fair amount during Mizu’s stay but to be honest, Mizu knew more about you than you did of her. She wasn’t one to really disclose many details, but she was a great listener. When she wanted to be at least

“Many years. Since I was pretty young.” She answered plainly as if she was remembering something from her past.

“Well, your training is going to have to wait.” You said, backing away having finally finished the stitches. She turned to you with a slight glare, much like the one she had given you on the day she first woke up. It was a glare that said, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I'm serious.” You said, sending a stern look back to the incredibly stubborn woman. “If you open those wounds again, good luck trying to do your back by yourself.” You shrugged, basically leaving her no choice on the matter.

“The more you rest, the faster you'll get out of here, and the faster you'll be able to get back to fighting to your heart's content.”

Mizu sighed, she knew you were right, and she knew she was only setting herself back by continuing to train in such a state. So, she silently agreed to listen to you.

“Now get dressed, your food will be ready soon.” To be honest, you both kind of forgot she was topless to begin with which was not something Mizu was expecting. She truly expected some big reaction, some sort of rejection, you kicking her to the curb, but you did none of those things. In fact you didn’t even react at all. It didn’t even occur to her that you hadn’t reacted to her eyes either. The day she woke up, she didn't realize until she was just about to fall back asleep that her glasses had been taken off. She had pinned you down and looked you dead in the eyes and instead of freaking out and calling her a monster you continued to welcome her with open arms. You didn’t even kick her out because of her wild reaction. You were so… understanding.

It was almost unnerving to her. It wasn’t a reaction she was used to so it wasn’t something she knew how to deal with. You just… accepted her like it was nothing. You just simply went back to whatever you were doing beforehand and paid no mind to her flaws. How? Why?

Even after she had gotten back into her normal clothes, her hair done up like usual, her glasses on, you treated her as if nothing had happened. You had yet to shout demon, or to call her a monster while you pushed her way. Instead, if anything, you continued to get closer to her as her stay extended.

You were getting close.

Too close.

As time had gone on, she continued to expect you to suddenly change your mind and no longer allow her company. But that day never came.

“Mizu!” You shouted upon returning home. Mizu sat in her usual place, sipping on some tea she had made not too long before you returned home.

“I saw this in the market today and I thought of you, so I figured I’d buy it. What do you think?” You asked, holding out a patterned bandana that had several different variations of blue on it. Mizu lowered her cup before she walked towards you. She looked down at it, gently taking it from your hands as she continued to stare.

How long had it been since someone had actually gone out of their way to buy something for her…

It was such a small gesture and yet she felt so touched by it. She didn’t want to, she had built walls around her heart for a reason. She didn’t want to let anyone else in out of fear of them rejecting her just as everyone else had done.

But you had already begun to chip away at that wall, piece by piece, slowly working your way into her heart and she hated it. She hated that you were getting so far, she didn’t want to let you in, she didn’t want to make that same mistake.

And yet something was telling her she could trust you. It was that same feeling she had had every other time, so why should she listen now. Why were you being so kind to her, why were you so different from all the rest, why did you not fear her?

“Do you not like it?” You asked quietly, snapping her out of her thoughts. “You don’t have to take it if you don’t like it, it didn't really cost much. I just thought of you when I saw it and I-” Before you could finish your thought, Mizu had quickly enveloped you in a tight hug. You were taken aback by this gesture, not really taking Mizu to be someone to show their appreciation through physical touch. And normally, Mizu wouldn’t be.

It had been so long since Mizu had felt a warm embrace from anyone, but she felt no other way to describe how she felt. Your arms floated above her back as you processed what was happening before you gently placed them down, accepting her embrace. You two stood there for a good while before she let go of you.

She simply muttered quietly, “Thank you.” before walking off.

You smiled as you watched her walk away, your heart pounding in your chest as the moment she began to hug you replayed in your head several times. You had to admit over the course of her stay you had begun to gain feelings for the makeshift samurai. But you knew those feelings couldn't be reciprocated. After all, she would eventually have to leave some day.

And that day finally came.

Mizu had walked into the room that morning as you prepared her usual meal, a somber look on her face as she stared at the same painting she always seemed to be intrigued by.

“What's the matter?” You asked, using the ladle to pour some of the food you had made into the dish before pushing towards her direction. Her eyes traveled down to the dish before making their way back up to you.

“It's time.” Was all she responded with, her eyes carefully watched you to gauge your reaction. Your once usual happy demeanor seemed to vanish in an instance upon hearing the news, it was almost enough to make Mizu wish she hadn’t said it. But the time had to come some day, she had business to attend to and she had already vastly overstayed her welcome.

“Oh… are you sure? You don’t have any extra wounds to stitch up that you’ve been hiding from me or… or a headache that you might need to rest off?” You asked, now standing up to meet her gaze. Clearly you were looking for an excuse for her to stay longer, but you both knew that wasn't going to happen.

“I have to leave and you know I do.” She answered, no longer looking at you. You both enjoyed each other's company over the course of her stay, but Mizu was not going to break her vow just because she simply wanted to stay with you. She had become so greedy with your attention that she had almost forgotten what she had spent so many years preparing for. She had limited time before her knowledge of the location of Fowler would become obsolete, so she needed to act fast.

“I know, but why now? Can’t you stay one more day?” You asked, even though you already knew the answer. You don’t know what you were expecting. You knew her mind couldn’t be changed. If you learned anything about Mizu it was that once her mind was set on something, she wasn’t able to be stopped.

“I’m all healed so that means it's time to go.” She responded, still not looking at you.

“Just-” You began.

“Please.” She whispered, now looking down at the ground.

“What?” You asked, not really able to make out what she had said.

“Please don't make this harder than it needs to be.” She whispered, finally looking up at you. The pain in her eyes was an emotion you had not seen before. It was one you almost felt guilty for being the cause of. You should have just helped her and let her go, but instead you got attached. You both did, and it was a mistake. You knew she would have to leave eventually, you knew nothing good could come from you gaining feelings for her, you knew it would only lead to both of you getting hurt. But you couldn’t stop yourself. Your heart made its own decisions and you had fallen for her, even if you had only known her for a few months.

“Before you go.”

You gave her a quick and gentle kiss on the cheek. You wished you could show how you felt in other ways but anything else would've hurt more. Your eyes had welled up with tears throughout your conversation but you had only just then realized it. You wiped your face as you began to back away from Mizu, giving her space to leave.

As you moved away from her though she had gently grabbed your arm forcing you to stay put. She hesitated for a moment, thinking through whatever she was about to do as you stared at her. She then pulled you back towards her, very carefully planting a kiss on your lips, one that you had both been waiting to share for quite some time. It was your last chance, so clearly Mizu wanted to make it count.

You didn’t want the kiss to end because you knew once it did that meant she would finally have to leave. Much to both of your dismay though, that time came sooner than either of you would have liked. You both released from the kiss, staring at one another before Mizu backed away from you, letting go of your arm in the process. She made her way towards your door, grabbing her sword and stood in the doorway, hesitating yet again before she fully committed to leaving.

“Mizu?” You called out to her. She paused, turning her head to look at you over her shoulder.

“You know if you ever want to come back… you can.” You offered. She gave you a very rare smile before she uttered the words,

“Thank you.”

And those were the last words she said before walking off.

As she left though, it was only then had you realized that in the place of her usual white wrapping around her neck, sat the bandana you had given her several months before.

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astralstarlight · 3 months

Text

walking in on you with your favourite toy !

w/ sukuna and choso (separate)

warnings/tags: implied fem! reader (bc that's how i'm thinking about it in my head rn), suggestive, 18+, no curses AU, in a relationship with choso, it's anyone's business who you are to sukuna (housemates maybe??), definitely not in a relationship with him though and you probably have to deal with him walking around shirtless all the fine and looking fine, the toy is a vibrator

a/n: thinking about them a lot recently

Sukuna is not amused. This is not his fault.

If you were going to be doing such private things, then you should lock your door.

"I can explain." You say.

Sukuna gives you a once-over. You're extremely calm for someone who's just had a ruined orgasm. The vibrator is still buzzing a little away from where you'd given up on trying to turn it off and just thrown it to the side for hopes of bringing some small sense of decency back onto your naked form. The blanket is haphazardly tossed over your legs.

It barely covers you.

You're wearing a big t-shirt and nothing else on the bottom half. He got a pretty good glimpse in your panic anyways — wet, wanting, twitching... He can't seem to get it out of his mind anymore.

An eerie acceptance settles over your face. It must be the adrenaline, Sukuna deducts.

"Okay." Sukuna says, crossing his arms and pushing the door closed behind him. "Explain."

"Well." And you have the audacity to hesitate on your words still, as though he isn't already wasting his time and attention on you. "You should knock." Pause. "Next time."

Sukuna lets out a barking laugh. "There won't be a next time, brat." He stalks over to you. It's a bit more imposing than you would imagine, especially when his eyes are scanning over your form as though he's already eating you up in his mind. He decides to toss a side-glance to your vibrator in an attempt to embarrass you further, before drawing his attention back to you.

It works, a brief flicker of panic exposing itself on your face as you seem to finally catch up to the situation.

"Just ask. But don't try to be cute about it." Sukuna continues.

"Sukuna?" You ask timidly, still trying to figure out what he's actually proposing.

"I told you not to be cute about it."

That seems to rile you up, and you feel a flash of annoyance run through you. "I'm cute about everything."

You just get to finish your sentence, before he cups your jaw dangerously tight, tilting your face to look up at him. Perhaps you weren't such a quiet and innocent housemate after all. The way your cheeks squish together is kind of cute actually.

He thinks you might look better crying.

A sound between a questioning mumble and a choke leaves your throat. You open your mouth to say something else, but his fingers are already tracing down to your collarbone. He tilts his head slightly as he feels your breath hitch.

"Lie back." Sukuna says, nudging your shoulder a little.

It's a final warning, you realise. A checkpoint in deciding whether you want to continue or not.

You do follow his instructions, jerking slightly as he manages to slide his hand onto you and press down onto your sensitive clit. His hands quickly move to keep your legs open.

He stops moving for a bit and you peek up at him to see what he's doing. The vibrator is in his hand, looking rather small and pathetic.

"We'll see how easily you cum from this, and depending on whether you impress me..." His eyes travel from your lower half up to your eyes. "I'll show you how good it'll feel to take me."

Choso is polite about it. Every kiss you've shared with him has been soft, sweet even. He's never shown any particular interest in furthering it. It's why you're so oddly embarrassed when he walks in on you with your vibrator pressed against your clit.

"Choso!" You manage to slip the vibrator out of your hands and turn it off, ignoring the urge to pull the blankets over your head.

His face reveals no surprise, nor a blush. A feeling of insecurity runs through you and a stinging starts behind your eyes. Huh.

In the silence, he's staring very intently at your closed legs. He takes a step into the room, still saying nothing.

You jump slightly when he sits beside you on the bed. He's uncertain, bordering on nervous as his fingers twitch slightly.

It's quiet enough that you think you should say something.

"Choso—" You say again, in a softer, more reassuring tone.

He cuts you off. "I'll help."

The matter-of-fact tone makes you blush. You forget how straightforward he usually is.

You shake your head. "It's fine. If you're uncomfortable with it or you're not really sure, you don't need to—"

Choso reaches under the covers from where you've thrown your vibrator. The top of it still glistens with your slick. He takes it out, twisting it in his hand as though to investigate it. He presses the button until it vibrates a bit too loudly.

It's not a setting you usually would have set it on to start with.

"Just tell me what to do." He says.

Good thing there's a lot of different settings for him to play with under your guidance.

#sukuna x reader #choso x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk drabbles #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #choso smut #— alathea writes #i care for them a lot #having a little bit of a hands obsession recently #choso kamo x y/n #choso kamo x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you

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gutghost · 5 months

Text

Imagine you get cheated on...BUT- the cheater turns kinda...yandere?

It felt like an awful nightmare. Bile rising in your throat as you looked at your lover - the person who you loved through their highest and their lowest, the person who you invested blood sweat and tears into, the person you promised yourself to - undoubtedly pressing their lips to another person's. It took a hot minute before you tried to step back, only for you to bump into the doorway, causing a loud thump. The two looked at you, one with horror, the other with confusion. It took you no time to turn around and make a run for it. A hiccup making its way out of your throat as you felt a sob start to shake through your body.

It's been afew months, well. More then few months since that incident, and safe to say you have been doing...fine. not great, but fine. You've decided to collect your things while your lover was away from the house, your friends and family helping you out as you found a new place to live. It was bare bones, considering you didn't take the shared couch, or tv, dressers, not even bed. But it was yours, and you've been getting by. You'd like to think you've gotten stronger.

That was until odd things started happening around your apartment. Things were being moved, shit you know you wouldn't misplace. Your clothes were going missing, much to your dismay. You barely had any, so to lose even one shirt was frustrating. Then roses started appearing in vases in your home. Seeing as actual items were showing up you decided to call the police, and when it seemed that the window to your bedroom was broken, seemingly from an outside force, they told you to invest in better security as they kept a look out.

Which is why you were going to the store so late at night, I mean, what could go wrong?

bad decision, you later decided as you looked at the scene infront of you. Your throat tight, bile rising, just like that night, the night you lost your true love. In front of you was your lover - now ex - looming disheveled, gasping for air as their voice broke, a small, unnerving, almost crazed look, crossing their features.

"My love, my everything, oh please-"

"Dont."

Your lip trembles as you step back, your look of surprise quickly turning into that of anger. They had no right to call out to you with such fondness, not after what they put you through. The pain and suffering, all due to the person who swore to love you.

A look of hurt crossed their face at the sight of you backing away from them, as if you kicked a puppy. The idea sickened you. Quick to try and close the space once more as they struggled to walk straight they would stumble forward. Their voice trembling as they fell to their knees, a whimper coming from them as they scrambled to grab at your sweatpants.

"Please - my love I beg of you, I know what i did was sin, I know - I've never been more sick in the mind then i was that night, oh I was so stupid, thinking I could ever so much as THINK of another woman! Even more so after wards, how could I think I could ever live without you??? You! Oh precious you, the sun only shines when you are near. Those next few weeks were torture my dear, I've never wanted anything more then to RIP MY SKIN OFF WHEN I REALIZED MY MISDEEDS."

Their insane rambling continued as you tried to shove them off, tears starting to stream down their gaunt cheeks. Had they been eating? You wondered as you tried to get them off you.

"I'm...i'm better now though! I've never been thinking clearer, I came to a realization life isn't worth living without you! But by then- you...- you had already left, I tore through that house to try and find you but you had already been far gone. I asked your family, your friends - but all of them simply turned me away, your LOVER - isn't that what I am? I am, aren't i?? They should've...they-"

You couldn't listen to this anymore. A disgusted feeling filling your gut. What did you ever see in them?? You quickly shoved them away, a small gasp coming from them as you stepped away, your ex lover falling backwards onto the sidewalk. A look so firey resting on your face it could rival the heat from the depths of hell.

"You lost that right. You lost it the moment you took that person into your arms, the moment you brought them into our home, the moment you pressed your lips against theirs."

They seemed dumbfounded, sobs starting to wash over their body as they tried to sputter out apologies. But you had none of it.

"Did you get a kick out of it? Seeing me suffer? Seeing me jealous as you placed your hands on that person's? Your lips on them? When i left did you just go right back to kissing on them? Fucking them??"

You spat at them, your ex lover crying their heart out as they struggle to breathe. Whether it be from guilt or heartbreak, you weren't sure. They shook their head as they continued to cry, trying once again to reach out to you, to hold onto you for that comfort you once so readily gave them. But you stepped back, putting space between you once more. A scoff coming from you as you did so

"Baby please don't do this to me, please please please-"

Their voice wavered heavily. Some part of you, the part buried deep down in your heart, ached at the sight of them so broken down. They looked ill, both mentally and physically. But what done was done. You quickly turned on your heels as you made your way home. Your ex lovers cries filling the street as he urged you to come back, to not leave him. To not abandon him.

Maybe some sick part of you felt good that you left them a blubbering mess, after all. They rept what they sown, did they not?

Little did you know, oh how blissfully unaware you were. They were gonna get you back, one way or another. They will have you back in their arms, with all those roses they left in your apartment in pretty vases all over your newly bought home in the woods, far from everyone.

They will have you be their's again.

that corpse that once used to be their side piece left rotting under the concrete of their basement proves it.

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futureman · 8 months

Text

old dogs don't change

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: weeks after sleeping together, your no-strings-attached agreement goes up in flames when joel goes on a date with another woman. you make sure that never happens again. (sequel to keep it on the low)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, ex-boyfriend!joel, jackson era, tlou 2 jesse appearance, age gap, hurt, angst, smut, unprotected piv, post-breakup sex, rough sex, public sex, rough oral (m!receiving), exhibitionism, possessive behavior, jealousy, alcohol use, briefly dating other people

word count: 10.6k

You have no idea who she is, but you bet she’s a total bitch. Is that mean? Maybe. Do you give a shit? Nope.

To be fair, you’d probably say that about anyone Joel started dating after you, but that doesn’t mean it can’t still be true. Sure, you've never actually talked to her…or seen her before in your entire life, but that’s beside the point. She’s cute and bubbly, and everything you’re not, and that’s the point.

It’s honestly a little comical how different the two of you are, and you can’t help but wonder if Tommy did that on purpose. You know he was the one who set them up. Everyone in the dining hall was talking about it this morning. The latest, hottest piece of gossip, bouncing from table to table like a cruel game of telephone.

He probably thinks he’s protecting his big brother, but you think he needs to mind his own fucking business. It’s not like he knows anything about your relationship, not really. Well. It’s not your relationship anymore, is it? And Tommy, along with everyone else in this town, blames you for that.

Poor Joel, dumped by the biggest bitch in Jackson, who took advantage of his kindness and patience for years, and broke his heart when all he did was love her. Selfish, cold, and uncaring. Nothing like the pretty, perky girl sitting next to him in the booth they’re sharing at Seth’s.

If only they knew what really happened.

The bar is especially busy, even for a Saturday night, so you figure no one’ll notice you blatantly glaring at them. It’s not like you care, anyway. You’re feeling warm and loose, and maybe a little too tipsy for your own good, but tonight, you get to do whatever the fuck you want.

Because Joel’s sitting ten feet away with his arm slung around another woman, and it hurts.

It sucks way worse than him avoiding you since the last time you slept together, after all of the things you did and said on that couch. The things he said. You shoo away the thought with another swig of beer, wishing you were drinking something stronger. It's for the best.

If you get any drunker, you’ll probably end up doing something stupid, and the last thing you need is to prove everyone right that he’s better off without you. But you can’t seem to shake the anger that’s starting to simmer below the surface.

With the emotional toll this night has already taken, you kind of don’t want to. So, you surrender to it. Fuck him. He’s a piece of shit for parading his new girl around right in front of you, and for breaking off your agreement without so much as a word.

If he wanted to see other people, he should’ve opened his mouth and used his big boy words. Then again, he’s always been terrible at that, so why are you surprised?

Maybe he’ll fuck her tonight. Touch her all of the ways you like because that’s all he knows anymore. She’ll moan for him, soft and sweet, gentle in her affection, just like she’s touching him right now. But it won’t satisfy him, and when he’s panting on top of her, chasing that all-consuming release only you can give him, you know he’ll be pretending she's you.

Asshole.

You’re still watching them, shooting daggers from your spot at the bar, when your wish from earlier is granted. Two overflowing shot glasses topped with lime are placed in front of you, and you look up to see a very attractive dark-haired, brown-eyed man smirking down at you.

"Looked a little lonely over here," he says in a raspy baritone even lower than Joel's. He clinks the top of your beer bottle with the bottom of his own. "Thought you could use some company, maybe another drink."

Well, he’s right. You could use some company, and you’d love another drink. There’s no harm in having a little fun, right? If Joel’s doing it, then there’s nothing stopping you.

"So, both of these are for me, then?" you smile coyly, reaching for one. He nods, his own smile widening.

"Could be. Can I join ya?" he gestures to the empty stool next to you.

He has this cocky look on his face like he already knows you'll say yes, and in your inebriated state, you think it's kind of hot. It reminds you of Joel when you first met. How he knew exactly what he wanted and wouldn't give up until it was his. Until you were his.

You consider him for a moment. He’s young, maybe even younger than you, and obviously confident enough to make a move on you. Fleetingly, you think he might end up being that stupid thing you do tonight, but then you down one of the shots and decide you don't actually care.

What turns out to be tequila burns the entire way down, and you immediately pick up a slice of lime. You’re hyperaware of the way his eyes lock onto your mouth as you suck on the sour fruit, lingering when a droplet of juice dribbles down your chin.

It’s not a total surprise when he reaches up to thumb it away, but you are taken off guard by how strange it makes you feel. The pad of his finger is disappointingly smooth, no weathering or even a hint of a callus. You're not sure why that matters to you, but you can take a decent guess.

You chance a glance over at Joel's table and, of course, you have his full attention now. His entire body looks tense, from his hand clenched on the table to the prominent vein bulging angrily in his neck.

Good. Now he knows how it feels.

Looking back up at your mystery guy, you run your tongue along your bottom lip, catching any remaining lime before you finally give him an answer.

"Sure. Pop a squat, cowboy," you giggle. It doesn't even sound like you and feels wrong the second it passes your lips, but as long as Joel heard it, that's all that matters. "You got a name?"

He replies, but you're too busy keeping an eye on Joel in your peripheral to catch what he says. In the back of your mind, you think that’s probably a good thing. You'd rather not know, especially if you do end up taking him home.

Mystery guy laughs at your noncommittal hum and you realize you’ve been caught. But he doesn’t seem upset. It’s clear he’s amused by your obvious interest elsewhere and that piques your curiosity.

Any other guy here would’ve been pissed by your apathy, especially if they’d bothered to buy you a drink that you accepted, but apparently not this one.

He sits down on the stool next to you, pulling it close enough that his knee presses against yours. You unconsciously lean into him, your skin erupting in goosebumps despite your growing unease.

He's...baffling. A total enigma. You can’t figure out what his deal is or why he’s choosing to keep pursuing you when your eyes have been glued to another man all night.

The thought of letting this continue long enough to find out is a little thrilling. Might as well see where this goes. If it escalates, you’re more than confident in your ability to care of yourself.

But it happens sooner than you expect. His hand finds the back of your stool and, then, his lips are suddenly right next to your cheek. You can feel the warmth of them as he tilts his head to whisper in your ear.

“Look, not try'na to overstep, but…,” his eyes dart to where Joel’s sitting, unreservedly ignoring his date. The poor thing barely notices, chattering away about something not nearly as important to him as watching you. His gaze returns to you, and you can feel him smirking. “You wanna make that guy you've been staring at all night jealous?"

That’s—wow. You didn’t see that one coming. He’s got a lot of audacity to assume that’s something you’d want, let alone offer…what? His services?

But, then again, he isn’t wrong. Joel’s been the only thing on your mind since you walked into Seth’s tonight and saw him with her. He’s always on your mind if you’re being totally honest with yourself. It’s plain to see, obvious to every single person in this bar including the man himself.

You eye your mystery guy curiously for a second before nodding, your lips quirking into a small smirk. Maybe it’s time to prove to Joel and everyone else in this judgmental town that you’ve moved on, too. That you’re not the sad, bitter shrew that deserves to be alone.

"Yeah, actually, I do," you reply cautiously. But there's still one lingering question that has yet to be answered. "I just…why? I don’t get why you’re helping me. What are you getting out of this?”

He shrugs, and somehow you can just tell by the look in his eyes that there’s no hidden agenda. You’re not sure how you’re just noticing, but he has kind eyes. This whole time, he’s been nothing but patient and attentive, like Joel always was—...is?

Was.

You almost wish you could fall for someone like this man instead of pathetically clinging to your past. Maybe you’ll at least get a friend out of this crazy night, if nothing else. But then you remember one, tiny problem with that idea.

“Can you tell me your name again? I promise you have my full attention this time,” you smile sheepishly. He chuckles good-naturedly and, again, doesn’t seem to hold it against you.

“It’s Jesse,” he says with a deep, southern drawl you should probably be more attracted to. “And let’s just say I know how it feels to want someone ya can’t have.”

You nod slowly, understanding perfectly. Except—you didn't realize up until this moment that that's exactly what you want. Someone you can't ever have.

And it took seeing Joel with someone else, his body pressed up against a woman that isn't you, to realize it. Well, that fucking sucks.

You decide not to ask about Jesse's situation. It's not your business and, anyway, you're both trying to feel better about your circumstances, not worse.

There’s a silent sense of camaraderie between you that tells you to throw caution to the wind. Tossing back the second shot, you turn your stool to face his, literally and figuratively turning your back on Joel.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Jesse,” you murmur, and you genuinely mean it. He grins, leaning in slowly, still giving you time to back out if you want to, but you don't.

Eat your heart out, Joel Miller. This one's for you.

"S'nice to meet you, too," he replies softly.

Then, his lips are on yours. The kiss is wet and open-mouthed, and yet he handles you so delicately. He cradles your face in his hands as his tongue brushes against yours, and you moan softly into his mouth, letting your body get lost in the way he feels. And he feels so—

Much different than Joel.

All you can think about is how much you miss Joel's rough touch, the way he'd thread his fingers through your hair and tug you into his mouth, nearly devouring you whole. Joel kissed you like every time might be the last, right up until it actually was.

Fucking hell, why can't you just enjoy this without him ruining it for you?

You try to forget about it, about him, licking into Jesse's mouth a little more aggressively, and he groans, his body eager and responsive. It's probably more than you should be doing in public, sitting at a bar surrounded by people but, hell, you want them to see.

They can say whatever they want about you. You're done giving a shit.

And, boy, will they have a lot to talk about after tonight. Joel makes sure of that. It happens so fast, you barely register that Jesse’s lips aren’t on yours anymore like they should be.

One moment, Jesse's hands are trailing down your sides to your waist, and the next, he's being forcibly dragged off you. Between you stands a broad, imposing figure ensuring you stay separated.

Your mind goes blank, and all you can do is watch in shock and disbelief as Joel lets loose on him, his words possessive and almost nonsensical.

"The fuck you think you're doin' touchin' her like that? Y'need to learn how to keep your hands to yourself, kid, before ya get yourself in trouble," he grits out angrily.

To his credit, Jesse stays cool and collected, but it’s not enough. There’s already a few pairs of eyes on you, drawn by the physical altercation, and it won’t be long before the rest of the bar notices the impending fight.

"Respectfully, sir, s'long as the lady consents, I'll put my hands wherever she wants," Jesse replies, standing his ground. He tries to move around him to return to your side, but Joel fixes him with a look that sends a shiver down your spine.

"S'that really a good idea?" Joel sounds menacing and looks even more so the longer the conversation continues.

You’re still numb to everything unfolding in front of you and it’s not until Jesse’s next to you again, snaking an arm around your waist, that you finally come to. The reality of your situation hits you like a ton of bricks and now you’re mad. You open your mouth to retaliate, but Jesse cuts you off before you can get a word in.

“There a reason it wouldn’t be?” he turns the question back on Joel and you tense, anticipating a less-than-friendly answer. Jesse squeezes your hip in reassurance, but it does nothing to soothe your unease. He doesn’t know Joel like you do.

“Kid, do I look like I’m fuckin’ around? Take your hands off her and walk away. M'not gonna tell you again,” he all but growls, taking a threatening step forward.

Neither of you back down. Jesse’s arm stays firm around you as your nails bite into your palm. It's taking everything you've got not to make a bigger scene than you already have.

You knew it. Since the breakup, you’ve been trying to reconcile this increasingly unfamiliar man with the Joel you gave your entire heart to all those years ago. With each passing month, the differences between the two become more and more obvious.

He's angrier now and has so much less patience. It's not that he's unkind. You know that no matter what his circumstances are, Joel will continue to be a good man. But he has a hair trigger, especially when it comes to you.

And he wants. God, he always wants you. It’s not that you didn’t have an active sex life before everything fell apart. He just...fucks you differently now. Possessively and without restraint, like he needs to be sure you're satisfied enough to never need anyone else. The agreement to keep sleeping together was actually his idea. And it worked for a while—until it suddenly didn't.

Now, you're forced to come face-to-face with that reality. Sitting at this bar, you spent the entirety of the night believing he'd decided he didn't want you anymore, that he was ready to find happiness in something simpler than sneaking around with his ex.

Except, it's starting to feel like maybe that's not as true as he made it seem. Like he never should've gone on this date in the first place.

"What the fuck, Joel?" you hiss, fighting to keep your volume under control. Not that it matters. The entire bar is staring at you, their eyes ping-ponging back and forth like they're watching a tennis match. "Back the fuck off. Now. This is none of your business."

"The hell it ain't my business. Some kid's runnin' his hands all over another man's girl and y'think that ain't my business?"

His trembling hands clench into fists at his sides and, while you’re betting the rest of the bar thinks he’s preparing for a fight, that isn’t Joel. It might be you, though, if he keeps this up.

"Excuse me? And whose girl am I—yours? Because I'm pretty sure your girl is sitting over there in that booth. Or did you forget about your date?"

For a moment, he actually has the nerve to look ashamed, like he feels bad about leaving her all alone at their table and for humiliating her in front of all these people. He avoids her crestfallen gaze, likely not ready to face the hurt he’s caused.

But it only lasts for a second before his eyes darken again, focused solely on you. As if Jesse, his pretty date, and everyone else in this bar disappeared, and it's just you and him. This conversation doesn't include them anymore. It's a private matter now.

"We're leavin'," he says with finality, his tone leaving no room for argument.

He should know better. That's not how things work with you. You’re a fighter, a trait he’s always loved about you, even if your ire was directed at him. Back then, it rarely was.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm leaving with you," you scoff bitterly. "Go back to your date, I'll go back to mine, and we can forget about this. All of it. We're done, Joel."

He shakes his head, mouth tipping down into a frown like he's thinking something over. Then, he huffs out a laugh. Like, an actual laugh, and you start to think maybe he really has lost his mind.

"Y'know, I really don't think we are, darlin'," he drawls dangerously.

He's on you in an instant, his hand wrapped tightly around your arm as he drags you out of the bar. You briefly consider resisting, but he's moving too quickly. All of those shots you downed combined with the beer you drank earlier go straight to your head, and you're suddenly overwhelmingly distracted by the feeling of his skin on yours.

Fuck, it feels like it's been so long. In reality, you know it's only been a few weeks but, god, you missed it. His hands on your body, anywhere at all on your body. You'd hate how quickly you forget about Jesse if you could think about anything else but those familiar, rough fingertips.

The way they dig into you, reminiscent of how he'd squeeze your thighs or clutch your waist when he was making love to you.

...Wait, what? No...no, fuck. Why is he making this so difficult? Why—Christ...why can't you just leave each other alone? If he never planned on letting you go, he shouldn't have broken up with you. And if he still wanted you this badly...all he had to do was ask. You would've said yes in a heartbeat.

So, you let him steal you away, out into the brisk, wintry air that does little to cool your fury or the heat beginning to coil in your belly. The door shuts noisily behind you, and you immediately wrench your arm out of his grasp before he can say a word. It's your turn to talk now.

"What is wrong with you? You can't just...fuck, you can't do shit like this!" You're seething, practically shaking in your rage, and his expression doesn't look much different.

"And you can? I dunno what the hell you were thinkin' gettin’ cozy with some goddamn kid, lettin’ him touch ya like that in front of the whole town," he reiterates harshly. He's starting to sound like a broken record. It's the only leverage he's got, and you both know it's flimsy at best.

"Some kid? Jesse's a fucking adult, clearly more mature than you," you bite back. "And it’s a bar, Joel. That's what people do at bars."

Joel scoffs, and you can tell he hates the way Jesse's name falls from your lips. Especially when those lips were on yours not even ten minutes ago.

"And who are you to decide who can and can't touch me? You broke up with me," you continue resentfully. "You don't get a say anymore."

At that, his face becomes unreadable. He didn't need the reminder, and you know that, but it needed to be said for both of your sakes. Sometimes you think maybe he actually forgets it was his choice to give you up. That he didn't realize his decision would hurt you as much as it hurt him.

"So, what? You gonna take him home then, let him fuck ya?" He leans in close, so close you can feel his soft, graying curls against your temple and the coarse drag of his beard across your cheek.

"Kiss ya here—," a finger trails delicately down the side of your neck to his spot above your collarbone, then continues down to where you've been aching for him for weeks, "—taste ya here."

You slap his hand away before he can get any further, but your reaction only spurs him on. How could you forget? He likes that.

"Y'know he can't make ya feel as good as I do. Fuck you just how y'like it, make ya cum as hard as I do," he drawls confidently, almost smugly, in your ear. "Don't ya?"

It's less a question than a statement, because you both know he's right. Joel knows your body better than anyone ever has, maybe even better than you know it yourself. Just as much as you know his. And it's sort of funny. You were thinking the exact same thing about him with his date earlier.

"Sure, Joel. Just like you were gonna take that girl home, right?" You raise an eyebrow, turning your head so your lips graze his skin. "Pretty little thing like her, I bet she likes it slow and romantic. She’ll probably even stick around for a snuggle and some pillow talk. You'd love that.”

Even as you mock him, the sneer marring your face doesn’t quite meet your eyes, and the spiteful nature of your words tastes acrid as they pass your lips. He’s so good at that. Always able to bring out the worst in you to prove his point—that he’s no good for you.

But you stand firm, your chest pressed flush against his in a show of determination. You're still in control here, unlike Joel, whose fingers are twitching noticeably at his sides like he's just itching to get his hands on you again.

"Maybe I would. Liked it with you, didn't I?" he murmurs wistfully, and that catches you completely off guard.

His words are almost too gentle to belong in this argument, and it doesn’t feel fair. What's worse, he looks like he means them. You’d prefer the fight, the aggression of the man who dragged you out of the bar. Not this. Not these traces of your Joel.

You can already feel your resolve slipping, and the rapid thrum of your heartbeat tells you to let it. When his hands finally take their rightful place on your waist, he’s in control again.

The cool evening air is suddenly stifling, and you’re starting to feel like you’re suffocating, your thoughts a jumbled, heated haze of anger and fear and want. He squeezes hard enough to pull your hips into his and you unintentionally buck, allowing his hands to travel up your shirt.

There's an intensity to his gaze, tinged with an unexpected tenderness. He almost looks...sated. Fulfilled, now that you're back in his arms. But not completely, not yet.

"You still haven't answered my question," he mutters. His hands splay across your ribcage, high enough for his thumbs to tease the undersides of your breasts.

You bite down hard on your bottom lip, sliding your hands up his chest to push him away so you can catch your breath, but your body won't cooperate. It's been well-trained to crave his touch. Exhaling sharply through your nose, you fist his shirt and instead pull him impossibly closer.

"You asked a lot of questions tonight. You're gonna have to be a little more specific,” you pant heavily.

It's getting more difficult to think, now, with the warmth of his body against you, his thumbs shifting higher to stroke your stiffening nipples. He urges your hips forward again to meet his, and you can already feel him straining in his jeans.

You whimper helplessly, unable to curb the way your body's reacting to him, and the soft sound causes something in him to snap. He suddenly backs you up against the hard brick of the bar's exterior and begins to grind languidly into your stomach.

"Y'really believe that boy can take care of a woman like you? Hm?" He interrogates you, his voice gravelly and uneven in your ear. "Tell me I'm the only one who can give you what ya need. Wanna hear ya say it."

Fuck, you can't lie to him. As much as you want to, it's just one more thing your body won't allow you to do. Not when he's working you up like this.

"You're the only one," you moan around your admission. He's still crowding you into the wall, his hands greedily roaming your soft curves.

His eyes meet yours, darting quickly to your mouth before he leans in to kiss you passionately like he’s rewarding you. It only lasts for a second, one deliciously fleeting second, before he pulls away. You’re not sure why you let him. Or why you kissed back.

"Who's the only man who can make ya scream?" he demands a little more urgently.

"You, Joel,” you murmur obediently, your lips already parted and ready for your prize.

And he acquiesces—another insistent kiss that doesn’t last nearly long enough. This time, you chase him, but he jerks his head back. He still has one last question for you. Except, this time, he looks afraid of the answer.

"Whose girl are ya?"

He whispers it so softly, you barely catch it over the whistling, nighttime breeze. As he brushes a few ruffled strands of hair behind your ear, you answer without hesitation.

"Yours, Joel."

His entire body relaxes. Now, he's complete.

"Damn right, you are—"

Then, the front door bursts open next to you, and he's abruptly cut off. Joel is quick to tug you around the corner into the alleyway before anyone can spot you, but he's not fast enough to keep you from seeing who just left the bar.

Jesse.

And there it is. A shock to the system, enough to clear some of that smoky, nostalgic haze and bring you back to the present. But as everything hurtles back for the second time tonight, this time around, you can’t be mad because he’s right.

Of course, you're not Jesse's girl. As pathetic as it sounds, you'll always be Joel's because he’s the only one who can take care of you and give you what need. The only man who can make you scream. But that goes both ways.

Even though he’s been picking fights all night, he hasn’t raised his voice once. It's not the way he wins his battles. So, maybe it's time to remind Joel Miller that there is someone who can make him scream. But he isn't allowed to unless you say so.

It all feels eerily familiar—his fingers digging into your waist and your lips crashing into his hard enough to bruise. You lead him deeper into the alley, back to where the glow of the string lights above the bar can't reach you, before you separate from him.

Neither of you wants to be the one to say it, but it needs to be heard. Here, in the dark, you can be his completely, but once you part ways and return to your empty beds, that's it. Just like last time. The reasons for your breakup are still very real, and that means your relationship can't be.

"Only here. Right, Joel?"

He stays silent for a moment, his gaze filled with deep longing and sadness. It almost makes you want to take it back. Take him back. So, when he shakes his head and cups your cheeks, kissing you like this might be his last chance, you're not surprised in the slightest.

And after this whole night—this whole confusing, fucked-up night—you let him. Right now, he needs this. Maybe you do, too.

His lips taste like whiskey and relief, and you return his kiss with all of the passion and fervor he’s pouring into you. You’re both a little frantic in the way you touch each other, but as much as you don’t want it to, it makes perfect sense.

Those few weeks without each other felt like years, and now that his hands are back on your body and his voice, deep and dulcet, is in your ear telling you how badly he wants you, you don’t want to let him go again.

You grind the heel of your hand into the front of his jeans and his responding groan pleases you more than it probably should. This. This is yours—his pleasure, his attention, him. They belong to you and you alone. Not his pretty, perky fucking date.

The sudden possessiveness stuns you for a moment, but it's not enough to stop the feeling from consuming you. This must be how it feels for Joel. It's potent and feels so, so…right. You're starting to think you've felt this way for a while.

"I needed you, and you made me wait so fucking long," you gasp against his lips, and the fingers cradling your face tense. You’re still fisting his shirt, nearly hard enough to tear, and you wrench it up from where it’s tucked into his pants.

"M'sorry, darlin', I know. I know I did,” he rasps back, following your lead and dropping his hands from your cheeks so he can unbuckle his jeans. “M'gonna make it up to ya. Tell me what you want, I’ll give it to ya.”

You want everything. Everything he has to give, you want it all. After everything you've been through, the hurt he caused you, you deserve it. And right now, what you want is for him to feel so good, he'll never go on a date with someone who isn't you ever again.

Sharp gravel bites into your bare skin as you drop to your knees in front of him. He's already so hard under all that heavy fabric and looks desperate above you. Just as desperate as you are for him to replace the flavor of Jesse's tequila and lime on your tongue with something saltier and headier, and undeniably Joel.

You hastily unbutton and unzip his jeans, not wasting any more of the precious time you have left together, before tugging them down just enough to free his cock and balls. He looks...fucking mouth-watering—flushed and red and leaking, and so goddamn thick. You wrap your hand around him and he sighs gratefully, dribbling precum onto your fingers.

"This is what I want," you finally reply, keeping your eyes locked on his as you lean forward to lick a broad line up his cock. He hisses in a breath through his teeth, his thighs already beginning to tremble, and you brace your hand on one. "But you're gonna be quiet, okay? I'm gonna suck your cock and you're not gonna make a single sound."

His expression darkens, but he agrees to your terms, nonetheless.

"Sure, darlin'. Whatever you say," he nods, gazing down at you with furrowed brows. He cradles your face in his hand and brushes his thumb along your cheekbone.

The affectionate gesture isn't lost on you, but this time you accept it. Instinctively leaning into his touch, you revel in it for a brief moment before his cock pulsing a frantic rhythm against your palm becomes an unignorable distraction. But a welcome one.

"That's my boy," you mumble against the tip. Just as a pained noise escapes his parted lips, you swallow him down as far as you can take him, purposely gagging yourself on him before you can dwell on the words that accidentally just tumbled out.

Your boy. Your boy. It echoes in your mind, ricocheting wildly and painfully like a bullet. Before you can take it back, maybe even to keep you from taking it back, he buries his fingers in your hair and holds you in place. You choke around him, trying your best to breathe through your nose, but in doing so, you take in a lungful of the heady musk at his base.

The familiarity of it all sends you reeling. He only gives you a second to adjust before he's fucking into your mouth and biting back a litany of needy sounds that rival your own wet, audible gagging. Your grip on his thigh tightens as your throat relaxes, allowing you to take him deeper, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing every time he grazes the back of your throat.

Tears stream down your cheeks and he wipes them away with a much too tender swipe of his thumb, even as he continues to force you up and down his cock. But you're too lost in your pleasure to notice anymore. So fucking good, you feel so, so good. But you need more, and you're not willing to pull off of him just yet.

Tugging down the front of your shirt, you roll a sensitive nipple between your fingers, and, god, that helps. You imagine they're Joel's and it amplifies the sensation, though your fingertips are still too smooth and delicate. Then, they're replaced by exactly what you've been yearning for all night.

“You don’t even know how beautiful y'look like this,” he grits out, his fingers running through your hair with one hand and roughly cupping your breast with the other. His hips stutter, and you moan around him. “Fuckin’ perfect. How are ya so fuckin’ perfect?”

Beautiful. More beautiful than her? Well, you must be, because you’re the one here on your knees, choking on his cock, and she’s still sitting in the bar wondering if her date will ever come back.

He won’t.

You preen without meaning to, your eyes blearily finding his while you drool around him, dripping saliva down his balls and onto your bare breasts. It's as if the visual alone has him thrusting into your mouth faster, pushing your limits only as much as he knows you can take. You must look like a wet dream right now, his wet dream, with your watery eyes and swollen, split-slick lips wrapped tightly around him.

Yet, he's remained so, so quiet this entire time, just like you told him to. Joel likes his sex loud, regardless of where you are and who might hear, so if he’s following your rules, that means something.

It means he'll do whatever it takes to have you. The realization crashes over you like a bucket of ice water, and then you're pulling off of him.

“You’ll give me anything, right? Anything I want?” your voice cracks around the question, wrecked from the effort of taking him. His hips chase your hand as you continue to pump him, matching his previous, unforgiving pace.

“That ain’t a question, y’know I will,” he replies breathily and without hesitation.

You gaze up at him, praying your eyes convey all of the need and anguish and hope you've felt since the last time you slept together. Since the last time you were his.

“Fuck me," and you won't accept anything less than his all. Not that half-assed shit he would've given her. "Fuck me."

He understands. His heart rate kicks up, thrumming wildly against the palm of your hand, and you know he does.

The growl that rumbles through his chest is nearly soundless but powerful. An entire night's worth of tension culminating in a single exhaled breath, just before he drags you up and spins you around, bending you over against the wall.

Bracing yourself on the harsh brick, you rush to give him better access, arching your back as he tugs your pants and underwear down to your knees. A callused hand runs upward, following the notches of your spine, while his other spreads across your waist, pulling your hips back onto his so you can feel him, heavy and leaking against your bare ass.

God, he’s so close to where you need him now. His knuckles graze your skin as he grips the base, pumping himself before the blunt head of his cock nudges your entrance.

But then, for some godforsaken reason, you feel a wave of panic. Time suddenly feels like it's running out, worsening with every subtle movement he makes. The ticking clock of your and Joel's relationship, perpetually stuck at two minutes to midnight, has sprung to life and that terrifies you.

You don't want him to stop—fuck, you don't want him to stop, but you know neither of you will last long once he's inside you. The build-up was too intense and this entire night has you both wound up so tight, you could snap at any moment.

You need to savor this. The way you failed to on your couch all those weeks ago, and might not get to ever again.

“Slow,” you tell him over your shoulder, and it's equal parts a command and a plea. If this is the last time, then you want to feel it. Every thick inch of him, while he still belongs to you. “Just…go slow.”

He nods, shifting forward almost imperceptibly so he can watch your lashes flutter as you brace for the stretch.

"Don't need’ta tell me. I know how ya like it," he replies gruffly.

He does. For now, you won’t overthink it or let yourself get lost in the nostalgia of his cock nestled inside you. You’ll just enjoy it. Sex with Joel has always been mind-blowing, and here, in a dirty alleyway, pressed up against the exterior of a bar, you bet it’ll be life-changing.

It stings like it always does when he breaches your entrance, no matter how wet you are for him. Together, you hiss in a sharp breath, mutually adjusting to the overwhelming stretch that quickly ebbs into something addictive.

"Tight as all goddamn hell," he mutters to himself, rocking into you languidly. He takes his time, relishing your walls enveloping him, mesmerized by the way you suck him in until he's buried to the hilt.

"Would'ja look at that," he continues in awe, tracing where his cock is forcing you to yield to him. "Greedy fuckin' pussy, ain't she? M'not goin' anywhere, don't'chu worry. Gonna take care of ya...make ya feel so fuckin' good..."

He's starting to babble. Not good. Not good at all.

Broad hands grip your ass, pulling your cheeks apart so he can see how tightly you’re gripping him, and it's too much. His hips buck, startling a pained whine out of you as he rams into that spot. The one deep inside you he can only reach when he’s fucking you from behind. Your cunt clenches, fighting to keep him there, and he growls low in his throat, hungry and territorial like a wild animal.

"There it is," he nudges it again, purposefully this time. You barely manage to bite back a sob as you gush messily around him. "Christ, honey, y'sure ya still want it slow? 'Cus it sure don't sound like it."

He's patronizing you. He knows exactly what he's doing—that's his spot. He also knows it makes you loud as fuck. But he wouldn’t. There’s no way he’d go back on his word, not after he promised he’d be discreet.

"Joel. Don't," you warn him shakily, but you're already too far gone to be intimidating.

He pulls out until just the tip is still inside you, huffing out a distinctly calculated breath.

"Don't what? Don't make ya cum nice and loud on my cock? 'Fraid I can't do that, darlin'."

That's all the warning you get before he slams in hard. Your jaw drops, and you're positive you couldn't have stopped the wail punched out of your chest even if you'd tried.

Wrong. You’re wrong again, and you should’ve known better. It’s not the first time he’s gone back on his word, remember? Joel’s shitty lack of communication is why you’re here in the first place. Sure, he agreed to be quiet, but he never said anything about you.

He establishes a brutal pace that has you scrabbling against the wall for purchase and slapping a hand over your mouth in a futile attempt to muffle the desperate cries being forced from your body.

Please, don’t be outside. Please, please, Jesse. Don’t still be outside.

But your luck's officially run out.

Heavy mahogany crashes into solid brick, echoing down the alleyway, and a raucous group of people spills out onto the street, barely 30 feet from where your ass and tits are out for anyone to see. Then, the deep baritone of Jesse's voice cuts through the rest, and your blood immediately turns to ice.

You're fucked. You're about to get caught and expose your secret to the entire town, except...Joel isn't stopping. Fuck, he's—

Yanking your entire body up and ripping your hand away from your mouth, rutting into you like he was just waiting for an audience. He snakes a hand up your stomach to palm at your chest, squeezing firmly to anchor himself as he fucks up into you with all the force he can muster.

And it turns you on so much, you finally stop caring. Fuck it. Fuck this town. Fuck everyone in that bar who made you feel like a goddamn pariah for months, crucifying you for the unforgivable sin of getting your heart broken.

You hope his date's standing out there, too, so she can hear everything she'll never get to have. So they can all see that Joel Miller isn't the crushed, cruelly dumped old man they all thought he was.

Your moans ring out, loud and high-pitched, all but drowning out the messy slap of his hips into the drenched curve of your ass.

"That's it, darlin', let it all out," he chuckles darkly against the shell of your ear. Your next moan tapers into a drawn-out keen that he mimics, his thrusts getting shallow and sloppy. "S'for me, right? Let 'em know you're makin' all those pretty noises just for me."

Christ, you're close. And he's as close as you are, you can feel it. You turn your head, nodding jerkily into his shoulder.

"S'for you, Joel—mmph, just for you. Only for you," your words slur as he continues to bounce you on his cock.

"Tell 'em you're mine, darlin’. Not just here," he pants raggedly, desperation coating his words. "Everywhere. You're mine everywhere."

The voices are getting closer, about to pass the mouth of the alley, and the ice in your veins quickly thaws, turning to molten lava. They'll definitely be able to able to hear you, but can they see you? For the umpteenth time tonight, you decide you really don't give a shit. You've got none left. You and Joel, that's all that matters now.

His hand drops between your legs, thick fingers swirling tight, slick circles into your clit while he waits for you to confirm what he already knows. You've said it again and again—weeks ago, wrapped up in his arms, and earlier tonight, after the worst argument you've had since the breakup.

And you’ll tell him again in this alley as you cum blindingly hard around his cock. Third time's the charm.

"Y-yours, Joel. I'm always yours."

His hips completely lose their rhythm, and he barely has time to breathe out his contentment before the violent convulsing of your cunt and contrasting serenity of your words send him hurtling over the edge.

"That's my girl."

He crashes his lips into yours, swallowing every noise you make as the group finally comes into view. Their drunken chattering and roughhousing aren't enough to draw your attention away from each other, but the depraved sounds of Joel continuing to fuck you through your release captures theirs almost immediately.

A few of them stop to squint into the darkness, trying their best to pinpoint what everyone already knows is happening further down the alley. As they inch closer, they can just barely make out two connected figures, and the wind carrying muffled gasps and labored breathing with it into the street all but confirms it.

"Y'all seein' this?" they whisper amongst themselves, but in the inebriated state they're in, they might as well be yelling.

And that's what pulls you and Joel back to reality. Shit. Shit. So, this is it, then. You tense in Joel's arms, waiting to get called out as the slutty girl who seduced her ex away from his date. Hell, they're not even wrong. You can feel his cum dribbling out of you, and can't help but think maybe you'd deserve it.

From where you're standing, you recognize each and every one of their faces under the string lights, and you know damn well that none of them can keep their mouths shut. Except...wait a second. They're still glancing back and forth between you and Joel in the shadows and each other.

Oh. The fucking shadows. None of them can see shit. They have no clue who the hell they're looking at. Joel must've caught on around the same time you did, because now he's backing up, putting more distance between you and the looming crowd. Before they can get any closer, one of the younger guys cuts in front to block their path.

“C’mon, it's probably a couple’a teenagers. Just let ‘em be," he drawls, glancing back at you. Your eyes lock, and you're suddenly so grateful, you could cry. It's Jesse. He shoots you a wink before turning back to the group, shaking his head in mock admonishment. "Don't act like y'all weren't doin' the same damn thing at their age."

By some miracle, it fucking works. They all laugh in agreement, appeased by Jesse's quick thinking. One by one, they follow each other out of the alley and back onto the road to continue their original path home. Jesse lingers.

"Glad y'all figured things out," he calls out over his shoulder, giving you privacy to tug your shirt back up. He clears his throat awkwardly before continuing, "Look, I, uh...distracted as many people as I could from comin' over here, but if y'all were gonna be that loud, maybe you should'a figured things out at home."

Jesse shakes his head again, chuckling to himself as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Anyway, y'all have a good night, now. Get home safe."

As he jogs away to catch up with the rest of the group, you start to laugh, too. You can’t help it. It feels cathartic, relieving some of the tension of this overly eventful night.

Joel’s body begins to shake behind you, his chest rumbling with what you realize is deep-bellied laughter. It gradually increases in volume as it melds seamlessly with yours; transitory, white clouds of condensation that intertwine, then dissipate.

You feel him slip out as he starts to soften, and then he turns you to face him, carefully crowding you into the wall. He kisses you again, this time slow and deliberate like you asked him to earlier. His tongue meets yours, gasps exchanged and treasured like you have all the time in the world.

When he parts from you, it feels reluctant, but he stays close, whispering his next words against your lips.

“M’gonna get ya cleaned up, alright?” he mumbles, dropping his arm from around your waist to run his fingers up the cum leaking down your thighs. You shiver as they continue up, slipping his release back inside you. “Don’t…,” he continues, squeezing his eyes shut as his forehead drops to yours, “…just—don’t go anywhere. Please. I’ll be right back.”

Maybe he’s trying to protect himself from the response he anticipates you’ll give him, but that seems silly after everything you’ve been through tonight. You cup his cheek and thumb the coarse, trimmed hairs of his beard, willing him to open his eyes. He does, hesitantly, one then the other, and you offer him a soft smile.

“I’m not going anywhere, Joel.”

An intoxicating breath fans across your face, and the taut muscles in his neck and shoulders loosen. His lips match the soft quirk of your own and, then, brush fleetingly against your cheekbone as he backs away and disappears through a metal side door you didn't notice before. The moment it clicks shut, you slump against the wall.

Christ. Your mind is simultaneously blank and racing a mile a minute. Taking a deep breath, you let your head thunk into solid, grounding brick while you wait for even a single coherent thought to take root. What now? What happens next?

There's no coming back from tonight. You both made choices you'll have to answer for, but, for some reason, that doesn't seem so scary anymore. The clock is ticking, but there's time. Plenty of it.

You're still lost in your reverie when Joel gets back with a thick wad of damp paper towels. You snort at the idea of him suddenly appearing in Seth's kitchen and having to explain himself, but maybe the racket you kicked up right outside his door was explanation enough.

"Seth didn't give you any shit for stealing his stuff?" you ask as Joel drops to his knees and coaxes one of your legs over his shoulder.

The cold air has already started to leach the warmth from the paper towels, and they feel cool as he slides them along your soiled skin. He huffs out a laugh.

"Nah, the kitchen was empty. Think they're startin' to close up for the night."

When he finishes your first thigh, he surprises you by leaning in to press a soft kiss against your freshly cleaned skin. He nips at you teasingly before starting on the next one.

You hum in response, threading your fingers through his hair and watching fondly as he pays careful attention to his task. He continues to wipe away his drying release, trailing his lips down your thigh as he goes, until he finishes at your knee.

He gazes up at you with a charmingly crooked grin, and that’s when it finally slips out. The single coherent thought you’ve been waiting for.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmur, brushing your fingertips across his cheek.

His smile falters. Then, it drops completely and your heart shatters. You don’t understand. But that—no. No, it doesn’t make any fucking sense. After everything that’s happened, how could you have been wrong again?

Joel sighs, grimacing as he slowly gets back up. He braces himself on one knee, clearly aching more than he's letting on, but when you reach down to offer him a hand, he refuses your help.

“S’fine, I got it. Just…,” he gestures to your jeans, still hanging loosely around your knees. You pull them up, fighting not to feel humiliated as he rises to his full height.

You search his eyes for…something. Anything. Any indication of what he’s feeling right now, but they’re blank. Cold and distant, just like they were the night he left you.

No. He doesn’t get to do this to you again. Not after everything you’ve been through. Not without an explanation. Not if he doesn’t want to lose you forever.

“Tell me why you broke up with me."

For a long time, you genuinely believed you could live without knowing the truth, but somewhere along the line, it began to eat away at you. Now, you want the real reason. He owes you that, at the very least.

You wait while he either works himself up to it or tries to figure out what bullshit to tell you this time. Once his hands settle on his hips, you know with absolute certainty it's the latter.

“Darlin’…,” he starts wearily, but you shoot him a look that stops him in his tracks. He doesn't get to call you that right now, and he knows it. Pausing, he nods grimly before beginning again. "We already talked about this. I’m no good for ya. It was only a matter of time before ya woke up one day and realized it for yourself.”

There it is. That same bullshit reason. You scoff bitterly, not surprised in the slightest.

“What the fuck does that even mean, Joel? We were together for years. If that was gonna happen, don’t you think it would’ve already?" you counter angrily.

You're trying not to get emotional. This can't be a repeat of what happened last time, but it's dragging up too many painful memories. It's always the same fight. You can't do this anymore.

"You know what? Fuck you," you seethe as your self-control slips completely. "Fuck you for making that decision for me. You had no right."

At your words, his face crumples and he has the nerve to look ashamed. Maybe even a little hurt. His pained expression makes your heart ache, yet a nastier part of you believes it's only fair that he feels this way, too. He sighs, his eyes dropping wistfully to his feet.

“I did what I thought was best," he mumbles quietly as if he doesn't want to be heard. It's hard for him to say this out loud, and you realize it's because he's finally telling you the truth. "I just…I thought you’d be happier with someone else, someone who could give ya a family. Kids. I gave you up so you could have the life ya always wanted."

You eye him incredulously. The life you always wanted? Sure, you and Joel had toyed with the idea of having a family once upon a time, but that was never a dealbreaker. He should've known that. He should've brought it up before deciding to destroy your life together over an idealized fantasy.

“Oh, here we go. Joel, the fucking savior. Mr. Fix-It, swooping in to save everyone and solve every problem," you hurl back venomously. But it was a cruel thing to say, and you immediately hate yourself for it.

Rationally, you know his intentions were kind. He probably even thought he was being selfless. But he hurt you, and, through your tunnel vision, that's all you can see. You push yourself off the wall, stalking closer to where he stands, still refusing to look at you.

"So what, you thought you’d dump me and I’d immediately shack up with some other asshole? Is that really what you think of me?”

His eyes shoot up to yours and his fingers begin to tap restlessly at his sides. Now, you've pissed him off.

“Don't go puttin’ words in my mouth. That ain’t true and you fuckin’ know it," he all but growls, his body shaking with a turbulent combination of frustration and adrenaline.

You're starting to feel it, too. This conversation is overwhelming both of you, but he still hasn't told you everything. There's a piece missing, keeping all of his disjointed reasonings from adding up. He's holding back and it's time for him to stop.

“Then what is, Joel?" you plead with him to give you a definitive answer. One that finally explains why you had to lose everything. Ellie, your home. The love of your life. "What’s the truth?"

Then, everything he's kept bottled up inside and allowed to poison his happiness claws its way out as a single, unwavering statement.

“I’m too fuckin’ old for you!”

The silence that follows his admission is deafening. You watch in shock as he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He's never yelled like that before or looked so defeated. By something as innocuous as his age.

It isn't something you'd ever considered, not before your relationship and never once during. But he did. His bottom lip starts to tremble as he turns and takes a few steps away from you.

“Every day, I’d watch ya…offerin’ to take more shifts, spendin’ time at the school with Ellie and the kids," he says softly, shaking his head as he works through his next words. "And every day, I’d feel it. My body givin’ out on me, more and more. My blood pressure’s up, my goddamn knees are creakin’. Couldn’t even fuckin’ stand up on my own just now."

When he turns back to you, his eyes are wet with unshed tears. He feels too far, but you know you can't go to him, yet. He's not finished.

"You can do better than that. You deserve better than that," his voice cracks and your whole world blurs into a wash of colors. “You’re gonna outlive me by a mile. I’m an old man, darlin’. It wasn’t fair for me to keep ya.”

For a while, you just watch each other. Tears overflow and continuously spill down his cheeks and yours, but neither of you moves to wipe them away.

None of this is fair. You're both miserable and heartbroken, perpetually yearning for a love you've told yourselves you can't have. Months ago, Joel made a choice for both of you. You won't make the same mistake he did.

"I didn't want fair, Joel. I wanted you. A life with you...," your face screws up as you fight back a sob, "...the rest of my life with you, however long that is."

Joel takes a tentative step forward, carefully reaching out to touch you, but stops himself before he can get too close. He looks afraid...of you. Scared of the consequences of allowing you back into his heart.

A sob escapes your chest, then, and you wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly bitterly cold and wanting nothing more than for Joel to hold you. To tell you for the first time since the breakup that he loves you and, regardless of time, won't ever stop.

So, you cross the alleyway and cup his wet cheeks in your hands, wiping away his sadness and, hopefully, his fears. He melts into the poignant familiarity of your touch and it makes you brave. This time, you'll be brave enough for both of you.

"Don't I deserve that?" you whisper, close enough to share his next breath. He watches your lips, hanging onto your every word. "Don't you?"

His eyes meet yours, and it finally happens. The moment Joel gives in and decides to let himself be happy. He nods slowly in your grasp, reaching up to cradle your hand on his cheek.

"Dunno what I deserve, darlin'. Not after the things I've done and the hurt I put ya through. But if I'm...if this is really what ya want...," he hesitates, his voice thick with tears and, yet, still that full-bodied, twang that sounds like home. "I'm yours. 'Til my last breath, I'm yours."

He kisses you before either of you can start crying again, and it's all there. The love he kept under lock and key to protect you, released from the prison of his own making.

His kiss feels different again. There's no hunger or rush, and the possessiveness—the need to devour everything you have to give so there's nothing left for anyone else—is gone. He's sure, now, that there's no one else you'd rather give yourself to.

His arms circle your waist and he pulls you closer, crushing you into time-worn chambray and sullied denim as you continue to explore each other like a pair of horny teenagers. Two lovers learning to give and take for the first time. Time passes slowly in this space you've carved out for yourselves, even as the moon continues to rise in the night sky and floods the corridor with light.

Then, noisily and as if right on cue, the last-call crowd stumbles from the bar and immediately catches what the previous group missed. You and Joel separate, dazed but unhurried, to find that it's them.

It has to be fucking kismet that, of everyone in Jackson, the first to witness your reconciliation would be the biggest blabbermouths in the entire town. The same women who talked shit about you every day for months and constantly vied for Joel's attention, standing there with wide eyes and slack jaws.

Their varied expressions almost make you want to laugh, and you can't help but snort unattractively into Joel's shoulder. Half of them are glaring at you, and the rest look either devastated or genuinely surprised. Guess you were better at hiding your arrangement than you thought, not that it matters anymore. It's a relationship again, and everyone's about to know all about it. Joel clears his throat, drawing their attention back to him.

"Evenin', ladies. S'there somethin' we can help ya with?" he drawls, breaking out the Southern charm that endeared every single one of them to him in the first place.

They all shake their heads, looking a little too pleased with themselves once the initial shock wears off and they realize you've just given them the gossip of the century. After a few fake, high-pitched pleasantries, they slink away as quickly as they came, already chatting to themselves about some shit you'll definitely hear tomorrow at breakfast. You watch them go, feeling oddly liberated.

"Guess the cat's outta the bag, huh?" You wrap your arms loosely around his neck, still chuckling softly to yourself. Joel huffs out a laugh, too, bending down to kiss the crown of your head before nodding in agreement.

"'Fraid so," he muses, amusement and a hint of something lighter glinting in his eyes.

You haven't seen him this relaxed in a long time. As he holds you in his arms, he leans a fraction of his weight on you to ease the night's strain on his back and knees, and it makes you feel needed. Relied on. That's new, Joel depending on you like this. Things are going to be different this time around, you can tell. They already are.

You hum, ruminating on what awaits you after your first night back in your own bed, in your own home. What everyone will think and say—to your face and behind your back—when they find out you're back together. Though, the only opinions you give a shit about are Ellie, Tommy, and Maria's, anyway.

So, yeah, you're a lot of things right now: exhausted, yet relieved and so full of hope. But you're not afraid, the cat and the bag be damned.

"I'm not," you tell him honestly as you pull away. You let your hands trail from his shoulders, down his arms, until his hands are in yours.

Tugging gently, you walk him backward out of the alley, away from the bar and plummeting winter chill, and any lingering, prying eyes. Even the moon and stars have no stake in what comes next. This moment, right here and now, belongs to you and Joel, alone.

"Take me home, Joel."

The light in his eyes burns brighter, amusement giving way to adoration and contentment. He's been waiting for this, to be given the privilege of keeping you safe and taking care of you the way he needs to—it's how he shows love.

He slots his fingers between yours and leads you down the empty streets of Jackson.

"Darlin', nothin' would make me happier."

thanks for reading!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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sourbinnie · 10 months

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☆ regrets & replacements ☆

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> angstttt (is all i know how to do) ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> hyung line!skz x gn!reader ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> did he actually forget? or did someone make him forget? ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> swearing ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!

a/n -> i'm gonna use the same name for the girl best friend and it's soohee, i'm sorry if that's your name babes. to the person who sent me this request, babe i'll try making a happy ending i promise (even if this is just so sad lmaooo)

maknae line

chan ✉

it wasn't weird to you that he wasn't the first person to say "happy birthday" to you that morning. he had always been busy especially in comeback season, you weren't mad, just a bit disappointed. the messages started flooding in as you looked at your phone trying to respond to everything. as the hours passed and no chan messages, no appearances at your front door and definitely no calls, you were starting to feel a bit uneasy.

you thought maybe he was planning a surprise? maybe you had to be more patient. or maybe he actually forgot and you were just waiting for nothing. either way the thoughts left your head as soon as you heard the phone ring and it was a video call from minho.

"happy birthday (y/n)!" the boys cheered and they even had a cake with them. it made you feel ten times better knowing they cared so much but it still made you wanna cry not seeing chan there, it just felt wrong. "i'm sorry we couldn't say this earlier, we were busy with practice and i'm sure your boyfriend will be there at any minute." minho said.

"i hope so, he still hasn't said anything." you responded and they all looked confused as hell. chan had been wanting everything to be perfect for your birthday day and him not saying anything was kinda weird to all of them. "did he say anything to you guys?"

"he left earlier because he said he got plans? i thought he would be right there when we called." felix said and now it was your turn to be confused. so if he wasn't here and he said he got plans? where was he? it just didn't make sense.

"i'm gonna text him right now to get his ass to your house." jisung said as he brought out his phone and texted as fast as he could. you could read the look on his face through the screen as he read the reply and it wasn't pleasing at all. "he's with soohee." jisung said and it was like everything stopped for a moment.

"you're not serious right now." seungmin said and you couldn't hear the boys go off anymore because it was now starting to make sense. you were never really good friends with soohee, you tried to but it was like she had another image for who she wanted to be with chan (probably herself). you decided to hang up because you couldn't really talk anymore, you were just shocked that she would go that low and that he would not care enough.

you wanted to go out and enjoy the rest of your birthday but it's like you were glued to the couch as the hours went by and eventually chan did get home. he looked at you and took in the scene, he wasn't sure what happened that you didn't text him all day like you usually do or that you didn't come by during practice. something had to be wrong for you to be acting like this right?

"baby? what's wrong? i missed you today." he said as he tried to sit down next to you but you got up and now he was starting to understand that he was the one who did you wrong. he still didn't know why though and the vague messages from the boys today weren't helping. he felt like he wasn't in on whatever was going on and it was starting to make him panic. "did i do something wrong? i have no idea what's happening."

"can i be alone today chris? i'm just not feeling too well." you expressed and that made him worry even more. you usually would talk it out if something like this happened but you were more silent than anything. you headed towards your shared room leaving a puzzled chan behind. that's when something popped up on his phone saying "(y/n)'s birthday, don't forget to pick up all the things you ordered!" and it fucking broke him completely.

not only he didn't say happy birthday to you, not only he forgot to pick up all the gifts, not only did he not organize everything he had planned for today. he spent the whole day with a person he knew you weren't fond of and not with you who had waited all day for him to do something. if he wasn't the worst boyfriend in the planet right now, he surely didn't know who it was.

minho ✉

it was no secret to you that minho forgot. you weren't really bothered by it since you weren't used to celebrating your birthday all that often but it made you kind of excited to do so this year. jisung decided to join you in organizing the event and when the day arrived, he said everything was set in place and of course told you happy birthday before anyone could do so.

"is minho hyung with you?" jisung asked over the phone as you tried to get ready. that question caught you off guard as you thought he told you he was going to be at the dorms.

"he's not in the dorms?" you asked now feeling a bit troubled and hoping for the answer you knew wouldn't arrive because if he was at the dorms, jisung wouldn't have asked in the first place.

"i was sure that he told me he would be at your house before the party." he responded but as you looked around, yeah minho wasn't anywhere to be found and now you were wondering if he would show up at all. anxiety kicked in and that was not pleasant to feel on your special day. "okay i can feel you panicking through the phone already, he might be my best friend but i'm kicking his ass for lying."

jisung hanged up all of the sudden and you tried to concentrate on your look. you knew everyone was gonna be there so you wanted to make a good impression but all that was going through your mind was "why would minho lie?" and "where was minho?". it troubled you so much that you had to call him to know what was going on.

"(y/n)? babe? i'm kinda busy right now." hearing his voice relieved you but you were still going back and forth in your head trying to figure out. maybe he was gonna surprise you? maybe he did really forget? or maybe he just didn't care? oh god all those questions.

"minho where are you?" you asked and waited for the dreaded response, you were already assuming the worst and you were right to do so when he responded.

"i'm at soohee's house. she had a bad date with a guy and she needed me here." he said as if it was all natural like he wasn't missing out on anything and that made you want to cry on the spot but you held back. it wasn't that he chose you over her, it was that she did this all the time and he wasn't realizing how she was using him. you wanted him to be here, to show you that he cared but his actions were speaking louder than anything.

"minho do me a favor and don't show up today." you said as you hung up, leaving a baffled minho on the other side of the line. what were you talking about? okay yes he lied about seeing his friend but it was because neither you or jisung liked her at all. he was just trying to be a good friend and he ended up being a bad one and also a terrible boyfriend in the process, how did that make any sense?

"who called?" soohee asked as she came back from getting all her makeup off after a long crying session.

"oh it was (y/n), they were pissed at me though and i have no idea why." he explained and that only made her chuckle which had him confused. what was funny about his significant other being mad at him? yeah there was nothing funny about it.

"probably because their dumb birthday party was today." she responded and it hit him like a bucket of cold water. he looked at the calendar on his phone and he wanted to actually punch a wall. he forgot his partner's birthday, he lied in the process and he chose someone else who was now showing her true colors before him over you. how the fuck would he make it up to you now?

changbin ✉

you were trying to process what was going on as you woke up and had a ton of messages but there was no changbin beside you. it was weird also how all of the texts you were getting started with "happy birthday" but the one changbin sent only said "i'm gonna be busy today, sorry that i left without a goodbye!" and it was okay, you didn't expect him to remember everything especially when he was buried with work.

well you thought it was work at least. you didn't expect it to be something else but every single one of the boys had told you to have a wonderful day and that they were sure changbin was gonna enjoy his day off with you. so it wasn't work and now you were left to think about the endless possibilities of where he could be.

"he left without a word?" yeonjun asked as he and wooyoung dropped by. they were some of changbin's closest friends but easily became yours as well as you hung out often with them. "but he told us he had big plans for today! where the fuck could he be?"

"i have no idea. i thought the boys would know but they even told me he asked for a day off to spend it with me." you said and you started to feel a little troubled. maybe something happened? he would tell you if something was happening though especially if it was an emergency.

"let's hope he's just planning the surprise." wooyoung said and you were hoping for that, that it was all just one big confusion and he didn't forget about you. you felt incredibly lonely when they left but they had hope that his friend would appear again and that "busy" meant he was gonna show up with a million flowers to make it up to you.

but time was passing by and no changbin appeared until midnight. he didn't expect for you to be awake at such an hour but he didn't question it as he looked at you, dry tears in your face as you sniffled. worry washed over his body as he sat down next to you and tried to get close but you wouldn't let him.

"darling? what happened?" changbin asked, feeling the tension all of the sudden. he wasn't gonna be a coward and run away from it though, if you were feeling down it was his duty to know what happened.

"wooyoung and yeonjun were here thinking that you might show up with gifts or a reservation. i thought the same for a minute but then you never showed up." you said choking on your tears and it made his heart break into pieces as he processed what was happening. his friends showed up, his bandmates probably said something too, hell even his family told him to not forget about today and what did he do? not remember his significant other's special day.

"i'm sorry (y/n). i spent all day with soohee because she needed me and i forgot to even look at the date, i had everything planned. i'm such a fucking idiot but let me make it up to you." he tried explaining but it was no use as you got up as your sobs got louder and everything he said was only making it worse. he knew that beyond you not having a good relationship with her that he chose her over you on a date that was important and that he was now too late.

"so not only did you forget. you chose to spend it with a person who clearly hates me and everything about our relationship. i think that says more about you than me, changbin." you said as you shook your head and walked to your shared room, only to close the door in the process startling him. he feared that this would be the end because there was no going back from this one.

hyunjin ✉

you knew something was off when hyunjin basically went silent mode. he left the house in the morning, not a trace of a goodbye kiss and less of a happy birthday. he didn't answer his phone calls and neither the texts messages that you were sending which was very odd on his part. he usually would spam you images or emojis but there was no sight of him.

you asked chan if hyunjin happened to be at the studio and he responded back immediately saying that he was supposed to be there for practice and still hasn't showed up. which okay you could understand him working on your birthday, you weren't insane like that but he usually got there on time. you decided to grab your things and head to the jyp building, you wanted to see him mostly. maybe he had forgotten your birthday and that was okay, you still had the rest of the day to celebrate it.

everyone as soon as they saw you said "happy birthday" or greeted you which was very nice. when you saw the boys you couldn't help but smile even if deep down inside you were freaking out. you could tell the vibe was off as well as you saw chan on his phone but you weren't shook out of your thoughts as felix talked to you.

"you shouldn't have to spend your birthday at a filthy dance studio with us. you should be celebrating!" he said as he hugged you and you returned the hug. maybe you did need this embrace after all because you were feeling a little down as hyunjin still didn't arrive.

"i just wanted to see him lix. i'm kinda worried but i'm hoping for the best." you mumbled and he nodded as he understood how you were feeling and why you weren't acting like yourself.

"he says he's coming over here, thank god." chan said and that made you smile a little but then remembered he did not pick up any of your calls yet he picked up when chan called him. maybe he was busy before? well he could've still responded to you a bit later right?

you sat down next to seungmin as he saw how you were feeling and wanted to distract you from it. it was working until everyone saw hyunjin walk in with soohee and that was the answer to all your troubles even if it brought a storm towards you and what was going to happen.

"baby? what are you doing here?" he asked with a confused look on his face and could immediately pick up the tension in the room as the boys were glaring at him and you just looked so sad.

"oh god are you seriously looking like that because he didn't say happy birthday? how old are you?" soohee spoke and hyunjin closed his eyes as he let it sink in. he knew you two weren't in terms and this only made it worse didn't it? he left without a trace, he didn't respond to anything on his phone and he was now walking in with her as she spoke to you in such a hateful way.

"i'm just gonna go. i'm sorry for interrupting the practice guys and hyunjin, please don't come by my apartment." you said as the tears rolled down your face and you left as fast as you could. hyunjin wanted to go after you but felix stopped him because you needed to be alone for now to heal. the knot in his throat getting tighter as he thought about how he would redeem this after he fucked up so badly.

#sourbinnie #skz imagines #skz reactions #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz angst #skz #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids angst #chan x reader #hyunjin x reader #changbin x reader #minho x reader #stray kids drabbles #skz drabbles

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sim0nril3y · 3 months

Text

Meet the Family

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: Simon has the joy of meeting your family and finding out why don't you see or talk about them all that much. This brings up some unwanted memories and feelings for him too. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), family drama, shouting, very small mention of Simon's childhood, family disapproval, family arguing, reader has family, reader has siblings, family names are established but no descriptions, canon-typical swearing.

It appeared that your phone was making more of a ruckus than usual later. It seemed to buzz and beep much more frequently, each time your eyes cast down to check it they narrowed, then rolled before you pushed the device far, far away from where you had to interact with it. Yet still it actively vied for your attention. “Everything okay, babe?” Simon quizzed, pulling the cork out of the wine he’d chosen and beginning to pour you a glass. “Fine.” You short answer replied, picking up the glass and taking a large gulp.

Taking a seat opposite Simon battled internally about whether to push this conversation anymore. He wondered, if the situation was reversed if you would have tried to get more information out of him. Bloody hell. You would. “I just couldn’t help but notice you seemed a little… upset by your phone.” Nodding his head in the direction of the device. “Is something up?”

For a moment you paused, mauling over the situation for a moment before letting out a low huff and answering. “My sister is having a ‘get-together’ for her anniversary…” You announced with a heavy amount of disdain in your voice. “We’ve been invited.” Of course, you’d mentioned your family before but until this point Simon had never met them and the opportunity had never been there. “Honestly, I’m surprised I’m invited Anna said it’ll just be close family…”

“Well, I guess you count as close family considering you’re her sister, love.” Simon pointed out and you let out a low huff again. “Who else is going to be there?” “My mum and dad. My little brother Peter. Obviously, my older sister Anna, her husband Barney and their son Hunter.” Simon couldn’t help but frown at that. It would be a lot of your family to meet at once. “And do you… want to go?”

Again, you didn’t have a response right away, eyes darting away before back towards him. “I… I don’t know…” Then shaking your head. “Anna is begging me to come, but I know that is only to get the heat off her because if I’m there then all my parent’s attention will fall to me and they will explain exactly where I’ve gone wrong with my life.” Simon couldn’t help but frown at that comment, he didn’t like the thought of your family speaking poorly of you. A heavy sigh escaped your mouth. “Would… you want to go?” The question came out tiny and vulnerable, like you might scare him off with that alone.

“They know about me?” Simon quizzed, he’d never met them and he’d never really pressed to do that, he was in love with you and that was all he needed in his life. “They do…” You replied evenly. “They don’t approve... It isn’t because of you.” You quickly add with wide eyes. “They don’t approve of anyone outside of the family. They hated any girl that Peter brought home and they tolerate Barney, but that is only because they gave them a grandchild to fawn over.” You explained before frowning. “Si, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to come…”

For a moment he mauled over his options, he could go and accept whatever snide comments and berating came from your family, or he could send you to the wolves and stay home like a coward. Simon Riley was not a coward. “Tell her we’ll be there.” He leaned over to clink his glass against her own.

It was a bit of a drive to Anna’s home she shared with her husband and their son, but that gave you plenty of time to fill in all the dirty details about your family. You had started with your older sister, she was seen as the golden child and your parents bragged about almost everything that she did, her perfect marriage, her perfect children, her perfect house and her perfect holiday home. You explained, Anna had gone to a top University to study finance, but during her gap year galivanting about the US she’d met Barney who’d promptly fallen in love with her and got her pregnant. This wouldn’t typically be too big of a problem, apart from the fact that Anna been engaged before setting off and in a desperate need to escape the monotony of her relationship and her perfect life she’d thrown it all away from another lad.

It was a blow to her parents that their perfect eldest daughter had this mishap, however the fact that Barney came from an incredibly wealthy family and owned his own tech company certainly helped ease him into the family. Then their grandson Hunter came into the picture and everything was a perfect ending from there.

On the other hand, there was your younger brother Peter who had barely scraped by in his school and your parents had to persuade Universities to accept him. He spent more times in clubs than in his classes. Your parents saw him as a typical boy, causing some trouble and chasing the ladies. Boys will be boys; they’d excused with a hearty laugh as Peter would be trotted to the cells for indecent exposer or public indecency. Still even after all the trouble he’d caused Peter was still the apple of their eyes, your mother fawned over him and your father tried moulding him into his protégé.

Then there was you. With a sister that was perfect and a brother that they dotted on that left very little time or energy for you. It seemed like you just slipped through the cracks. Even when they did have time spare for you every decision, you’d made they hadn’t approved. In their eyes, you were simply the wild little fuck-up. It pained and riled Simon that anyone thought of you as anything but perfect and good and kind.

Once they arrived at your sisters’ home Simon was surprised to find that it was an expensive looking townhouse that had been renovated to have some modern features. This strangle matched the dreamhouse that you’d muttered to him one night in your post-sex chatter, it made Simon wonder who had desired the house first, maybe it was you and Anna had simply stolen that dream to taunt you. Approached the modern frosted glass door, it opened and out stepped an older woman with a disguised smile on her face, dressed in a smart, conservative dress with sharp kitten heels. Your hand squeezed his own as you approached, announcing nicely. “Mum…” Ah, your mother, Cynthia…

“Hello darling.” Her voice was soft but hiding something, like a sickly sweet venom that was encasing you both. You had mentioned that she was high strung and highly critical, that remained to be seen. If there was one thing that Cynthia enjoyed in life it was gossiping, followed by bragging about her family, or at least some of her family members, certainly not you, you’d joked to Simon but there was a pained reality to that snide remark. “Look at you, that is certainly an interesting dress…” She observed, cupping your face then. “You look very tired, are you sleeping well?” The snide remarks had already begun, Simon observed.

You complained lowly. “Mum…” Then looked towards Simon, eyes pleading for some form of help or safety or escape but only found his own dark set that matched your own fear. “This is-” Cynthia cut you off and turned her viper grin towards at him, those dangerous eyes scanned him and searched for any little weakness or vulnerability. “This must be Simon.” Cynthia let out an almost cynical laugh. “Now, I must ask your sister to set another place, we weren’t sure that you were real…” It was another little dig that made you wince.

Cynthia then allowed the two of you to follow her further into the house, a lounge area stood before them and three men lingered inside of it. An older man sat on the sofa, drink in hand and head drooping, another around Simon’s age stood behind a small make-shift bar, cleaning glasses and straightening bottles of the labels faced out and proud and then across the room a younger man was texting on his phone. “Simon, make yourself comfortable with the men. That is my husband, Harold. This is my son-in-law, Barney.” Cynthia even gifted him a snide smile, the same she had done to Simon, they were outsiders after all, not as important as blood, simply there to give her grandchildren. “And that is my son Peter~”

Turning to you and lowering her voice, Cynthia said. “Darling, don’t worry that you didn’t bring a present, your sister understands that you don’t make a lot of money-” “N-no, I just left it at home.” You attempted to explain but your mother just chortled lowly and squeezed your shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure… just like how Peter ate all your Christmas chocolate when you were 10, hmm?” Then she poked your tummy in jest. “But I think we all know where it went.”

Simon forced himself to grit his teeth, looking between and watching you purse your lips, accepting the vicious attack with a tight smile and glossy eyes. “Now, don’t make that face~” Cynthia smirked directly at you, as if knowing she was pushing your buttons. “Come, your sister will want some help in the kitchen, I’m sure you’ll survive being apart from your boyfriend for five minutes, hmm?” Then looking towards Simon and asking. “You won’t mind if I borrow her, will you?”

More than anything he wanted to deny her, snatch you up into his side and away from anymore of her cruel remarks, but her claw-like hands were already circling you and tugging you from the room before he had a chance. The next moment, a presence walked up behind him and Simon turned to see a very happy looking man stood there. “Hey man…” A thick American accent rolled from him. “My name is Barney, you must be Simon, right?” He was quick to shake his hand and comment. “Quite the grip there, you play golf?”

Shaking his head Simon followed him back to where he’d been lingering (or probably hiding) behind his bar. “Do you drink, man? What’s your poison?” Barney asked enthusiastically, very proudly gesturing to the array of bottles that were placed behind the bar, squeaky clean but hardly used. “Whiskey. Neat.” Then leaning against the bar and waiting for it to be made. Another approached, this time your brother, tucking his phone away into his pocket as he sidled up beside him, elbows resting on the bar too, matching him stance for stance. “Simon, right? The latest addition to our fucked up little family.” Peter commented, his tone just as snide as his mother’s – the apple didn’t fall far, he supposed. “I’m sure my sister told you all about me…”

“She mentioned a few things…” Simon answered evenly, reaching out to take the offered drink from Barney, drinking it down a little too quickly to appear casual. Bloody hell, he’d been on battlefields and felt less anxious. “Well, I’ve got a few stories about my sister that I’m sure you’ll want to hear too~” The young lad began before Simon glanced in his direction, testing and bothered by his presence.

Sensing the impending tension Barney let out a hearty chuckle and said. “Maybe another time, huh?” Then giving Peter a pointed look. “Simon… what do you do for a job?” He asked in a friendly enough way, this seemed to catch the attention of Harold who actually glanced in his direction, quietly accessing and judging, it felt like you were the only normal one to actually come out of this family. “I’m in the special forces.” Simon explained, keeping his answers short and sweet, not allowing too many details to slip out, it wouldn’t be professional. They all had different reactions to this little piece of information. Peter quirked a brow whilst Barney grinned and nodded. “That’s tight. Respect, man.”

“A solider…” Peter muttered. “Lieutenant, actually.” Simon corrected in a sharp tone. There wasn’t many things in life he was proud about but you and his career were among the only few.

Again, your brother seemed to stir from beside him. “So…” Looking at him, wanting to judge Simon’s reaction. “How many people you killed?” The question was so crass that it actually made Barney gasp before letting out a nervous laugh and saying. “Pete, I’m not sure you can ask questions like that, man…” Then another laugh before giving his brother-in-law a soft punch on the shoulder, followed by a pointed look, don’t push.

There was this clear power struggle that Peter was trying to win. This happened often with rich boys like your brother, they saw Simon as a threat because he was physically much more impending than them, feeling even worse when they discovered that Simon wasn’t as dumb as they thought he looked.

“Not something that I keep count of…” Simon answered keeping his face straight, remaining unbothered. It was a good answer, it was formal and dignified, not to mention filled with some honesty. It wasn’t like Simon could even keep count anymore, even if he had wanted to. Peter seemed unimpressed with that answer and simply huffed before saying. “Bet you could think of at least five different ways to kill me in here, right?” Again, this spiked the interest of Harold, glancing in their direction.

Another challenge. Another prod. Another opportunity to attempt to make Simon look unhinged. Attempting to break the tension Barney laughed awkwardly. “This joker-” “I could think at least ten.” Simon retorted, dark eyes watching Peter to see that smugness falter for just a moment as true fear sank in. From across the room for just a split second Harold smirked then it washed away as he finished his fifth drink of the night.

The room was thick with an air of tension as you stepped inside looking completely flustered. “It’s uh… it’s time for dinner.” You informed them, frowning as you tried to access the atmosphere, approaching Simon to rest a delicate hand on his forearm, wrapping yourself around the limb. The room cleared out as Barney escorted his in-laws to his dinning room. Gazing up at Simon, you asked. “You alright?”

Simon’s eyes seemed to focus on where Peter had been escorted from the room, watching that area on alert for a few moments before his gaze flittered back in your direction. “Told your brother I could think of ten ways to kill him in this room alone…”

You blinked. Slow and calculating. Attempting to understand the words that Simon had just rushed in your direction. “Excuse me?” You muttered, staring up into his eyes in confusion. “Why… why would you say-” “He was pushing me.” There was an edge of frustration to his tone. You brother had gotten under Simon’s skin a lot more than he was willing to admit aloud. Reaching up you cupped his face and looked into his eyes with such care and sincerity, it really did pain you to witness your family treating him in a way that left him so anxious and wound up. “I believe you.” You whispered. “I believe you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. My fucking family… It’s my family, they make it their mission to push and prod and make your life misery. I’m sorry-”

A short huff came from Simon, leaning in to kiss your forehead gently and replying. “You don’t ever apologies for any of them.” He told you, voice firm and sure. There was no part of this that was your fault. You were born into a family of cynical fakers, wanting to make everyone else’s lives as miserable as their own. He hadn’t even been around them for an hour yet, but Simon could see that you were the only good thing to come from your family. He could force himself to survive the rest of the dinner party for you… but when this was over, he never wanted to see these people again.

“Come on, now…” Your mothers voice entered the lounge and she lingered in the doorway, big fake smile on her lips and glass of wine in hand. “You were late to the party and now you’ll be late for dinner too…” Cynthia chortled, clearly still holding that grudge. “I swear, my darling girl would be late to her own funeral too…” The comment was made as she swayed down the hallway towards the dining room, Simon simply grit his teeth and continued to bite his tongue. A few more hours, he reminded himself constantly.

The dinner that was severed was nice enough. Honestly, the only cooking that you actually enjoyed nowadays was anything that Simon served up for you and it was something he was more than happy to take care of for you. It was mundane and simple and peaceful, just for some time he could force his noisy brain to shut off, it simply wasn’t warfare.

You sat beside him, food pushing around your plate, probably each little biting comment from your mother stripped away any hunger from you. Cynthia had persuaded your siblings to list all their recent achievements to you, which they seemed all too happy to do. Maybe they knew that if all that vitriol that poured from your mother was aimed at you, then they’d continue to escape it… or maybe they enjoyed it because they were just as cruel as she was.

“Are you enjoying the food?” Cynthia quirked a soft brow at Simon, it was a strange observation but Simon noted that your mother wore a face so similar to your own, maybe more than the rest of your siblings but not even one of your expressions matched. There was so much pure and true joy and easiness in your smile, but each time your mother did the same it seemed like it might crack her face into tiny pieces. “I’m sure you aren’t used to a good homecooked meal, hmm?” Then laughing lowly. “Especially with this one’s cooking…” Pointing a fork in your direction.

“It’s fine.” Simon responded evenly, clearly not to exaggerated praise that your mother had been expecting, simply narrowing her eyes and taking back another gulp of wine. “I like to cook for us…” His hand then rests on your knee beneath the table, reminding you that you weren’t alone facing your horrid family, but that Simon had your back. “Between the two of us, I have more time to cook, anyway.” Then he shrugged, gazing in your direction and seeing your desperation to find safety and warmth within him. “With all the hours that she works and then the time she spends on her art, I like to keep her fed…” Too afraid to continue aloud, Simon thought, keep her warm, provided for her, keep her happy, keep her satisfied. Just… keep her.

A deep scoff came from Cynthia then, another big glug of wine until her glass was empty. It seemed that Simon had given Peter the opportunity to speak then, smirking from across the table. “Speaking of work…” Those dangerous eyes loomed as you sat a little straighter in your chair. “Heard from a friend that you missed that interview dad set up…” The comment was thrown out there so casually but you were left reeling as you knew the chaos that simple comment would cause. Besides, how did he even know that? There wasn’t a chance in the world that Peter had friends to be able to tell him that information, so what? Was he following you? Keeping tabs on you? Before you even had the chance to interrogate him Cynthia spoke first.

“No, no…” Placing down the wine bottle onto the table with a heavy thud, eyes fixed on you. “Please tell me that isn’t true.” Raising her brows, as if waiting for you to deny Peter’s allegations but you remained sheepishly quiet. “You lied to me.” There was a fiery rage in her eyes now and you knew that you were in for it. “You told me that you went. I can’t believe you would lie to your own mother…” Your mouth opened then, as if to defend yourself but Cynthia was much too quick to continue her tirade. “We have spoken about this again and again… I made it clear it is time to give up on this silly little fantasy that you’ve been holding onto. It is time to grow up and join the real world. You need to be more like your brother and your sister…” Gesturing wildly to them as Anna sat almost ashamed with her gaze down to her lap and Peter sat there with a smarmy smile the instigator of this.

Again, you opened your mouth, but her hand came up sharp in your direction. “Do you know the strings your father had to pull to organise that interview?” Then gesturing towards Harold who seemed completely unphased, cutting his steak into another bitesize piece whilst his wife continued to berate their daughter before the audience. “You are such an ungrateful brat and you always have been. When will you understand? You have absolutely zero desirable qualities so finding a decent job will be very difficult for you… who in their right mind is going to want to hire someone like you, hmm?”

Everyone apart from Cynthia and Peter appeared mortified, Anna looked to you with horror on her face and then Barney spoke, careful smile on his face. “She still had plenty of time to figure out what she wants to do, right? Anna took a gap year during college… Pete did the same… So, she isn’t going abroad or whatever, instead she’s trying to… to… figure out if she can follow her passion, I think it’s-” “Be quiet.” Cynthia growled at him then, teeth grit. “Don’t talk such nonsense… Peter and Anna were working hard at college and needed a break to find themselves and after returned to college and get their degrees. What does she have? Nothing. I couldn’t even convince her to apply to any colleges… She is a lazy, stubborn, silly little girl and you are chasing a hopeless dream-” “Enough.”

Every set of eyes then turned to look at Simon who sat with a furious look present on his face. At the beginning of the evening, he could maybe accept those biting little comments, he could certainly accept the way that Peter had provoked him, Simon could even accept the way that your mother had sat there bragging about your siblings but he wasn’t going to allow her to utterly humiliate you like this. “You don’t fuckin’ talk to her that way.” Carefully from beside him, you muttered his name, a soft plead to try and calm the fight that seemed inevitable now. “No.” He told you firmly, quietly, gazing down at you with a set jaw and narrowed eyes. “I won’t just sit there and let her fuckin’ talk to you like this… I wont… I can’t…”

It wasn’t like Simon had grown up in a good household. It was clearly different from your own. Simon had witnessed his father completely decimate any good in his family and he was too young and too small and too scared to stop him or do anything. This is why he is the man he is today; he wouldn’t allow that again and seeing your family ripping you to shreds, tearing apart any good and hope and light inside of you was too much for him. Not you. Never you.

“Simon, please. You simply don’t understand...” Cynthia began. “My daughter lives in this word of make believe where she thinks she is going to become and artists and be able to make money and buy big houses like her sister. It’s just ridiculous. I’ve tried getting through to her, but-” “Your daughter is a fuckin’ adult.” Simon growled then, leaning into the table slightly so he could talk across at her. “She doesn’t need you to find her a job and she doesn’t need you to approve the choices that she makes in her life.” Simon growled, feeling this need to protect you and keep you safe, that very same one that had grown for his mother in his childhood. Different, but… the same. “Your daughter… your daughter is fuckin’ amazing. There isn’t a thing about her that needs to change. She’s intelligent and she’s soft and kind and she’s really fuckin’ talented and I wonder how all of that managed to happen when she grew up around you cunts-” The entire table seemed to gasp in unison.

There seemed to be this stunned silence before everyone erupted, Peter almost fell off his chair laughing, whilst baby Hunter wailed from the commotion. Cynthia stood stark upright, jabbing a finger in his direction. “Unacceptable! Disgusting! Unacceptable! He’s an animal! He’s feral!” Stalk through the house on a tirade of insults aimed in his direction with her husband trailing behind her. Anna was trying to hopelessly clean a puddle of wine from where it had teetered over onto the table. “It’s fucking vintage!” There were real tears in her eyes, much to Simon’s surprise.

Just then Barney stood up, bouncing his son in his arms and looking between you and Simon. “I think… I think it would be best if you guys left.” There was sorrow in his eyes as he suggested it, not wanting to be unkind but just not wanting anymore drama. It was probably for the best even if Simon did have a few more choice words for them.

The entire car ride home you were unusually quiet beside him. He was actually a little lost on how to handle this situation. There weren’t a part of him that was sorry for what he’d said to your family, or more specifically your mother. Simon just couldn’t handle the fact that she could talk to you in such a vile way. There was only so much that Simon was willing to take and he’d lost it. Fuck, had he scared you? Were you mad at him? Were you sad for causing a rift in your family? Had he even caused a rift? Clearly, they hadn’t thought very much of you before he’d been there…

A small sniffle from beside him caught his attention, glancing in your direction and under the glow of the streetlamps Simon saw your face wet with tears. Without hesitation Simon signalled and pulled his truck onto an empty road, clambering from the driver’s seat and around to yank open your door. A moment later his arms were around you, hand supporting the back of your head burying your face into the crook of his shoulder. “You’re alright. Shh. You’re alright, babe.”

After a few moments of allowing, you to just sob into his shoulder, your voice muffled against his shirt. “Don’t ca-care what they s-say about me-” “Well, I do.” There was a thick edge to his voice, pulling back to cup your face and looking for any sign of fight towards your family but you seemed defeated, you seemed emotionally drained. Where was that witty girl that had corned him on a night out? Where was the one that had to almost twist his arm to open up? Where was that fight for her own pretty self? “I care about what they say about you because they are dead fuckin’ wrong, babe. No one deserved to be talked to like that. I won’t allow it.”

There was something deeper simmering here behind all this. There was something that Simon didn’t want to confess or discuss. The berating. The belittling. The treatment of less than… This was something that Simon wouldn’t allow for you because he had experienced it and much worse. “You don’t deserve it.” It was like Simon was talking to all the people in his life that hadn’t deserved the fate they were given. You. Him. His mum. His brother. His friends he’d lost. The soldiers that had died in his arms. “Okay?” “Okay.”

Masterlist | Ask | 04-02-2024

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wttcsms · 2 years

Text

these eyes were made for lookin’ at you (only you) ; simon “ghost” riley.

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader word count 5.6k synopsis simon riley didn’t ask to be a hero, but he finds himself wanting to be yours. content contains hints to human traff/icking (not explicit), breeding kink, belly bulge, size difference, pet names/terms of endearment (pretty girl, baby, love, darling, sweetheart), soft!ghost, obsessive!ghost, domesticity, mutual pining, praise kink, probably ooc!ghost but the man is absolutely whipped for you, clothed sex (his uniform is on), minor depictions of violence

He doesn’t quite consider himself a hero, you know.

He’s got a foul mouth, a sense of humor that borders between too dry or too dark, and so much blood on his hands that he’s surprised to see they’re not red when he pulls off his gloves and runs them under scalding hot water.

There will be no parades in his honor. No little boys running up to him on the streets, proclaiming that they want to be just like him. No statues to be sculpted to remember him by whenever he meets his inevitable end, six feet under. He probably won’t even be a memory after death.

And he’s come to terms with all of this, of course. It’s not like he cares — he didn’t sign up to do this shit for the glory or because he wanted to be considered a hero. He did it because someone out there had to be the person willing to do anything for the betterment of everyone.

Perhaps that makes him heroic in some sense; again, he doesn’t particularly care.

Until you.

Until one mission sends you into his direct orbit, knocking everything he’s ever known out of its place. It’s disorienting, confusing—

—exhilarating.

He doesn’t get scared anymore, but there’s something inherently frightening about wanting to share parts of yourself — of your very being, of your soul — to someone. He’s not quite able to label any of the emotions he feels for you the first time he sees you, but he feels enough to know that if he wants to save himself, he should put as much distance between the two of you as he possibly can.

(It turns out that this lieutenant doesn’t have as great of a sense of self-preservation as he proclaims.)

You cling to his arm, ignoring the way your palm digs and presses into the hard armor and tactical gear he sports. You think he might shake you off or forcefully pull you off of him, but he does neither. The soldier freezes, just for a second, and then he turns to face you.

If this is what the Grim Reaper looks like, perhaps death isn’t such an unfavorable ending. You can’t make out any physical features of your savior’s face, save for the pair of dark eyes staring right at you.

The skull mask does its job of securing his identity, but he should consider wearing goggles, you think. You’re not certain, but you think his eyes must be his most incriminating feature. You think if he gave you a proper minute to look at him, the image of his eyes would be ingrained in your memory. You’d be able to recognize him by them alone.

“Do you understand me?”

The gruff voice must be coming from him, if the subtle movements underneath his mask are any indication. He’s staring straight ahead now, watching as the rest of his team begins to usher the other girls who were stolen alongside you into large trucks. Maybe they’re tanks. You’re not quite sure.

“You must not then, yeah?” When he speaks, every word seems to be just the slightest bit rough around the edges. His accent is oddly nice; from the way he delivers his comments, though, you’re left wondering if he is, too.

He must be — nice, that is. A nice man would let you continue to grip his arm for support, even though you’re capable of standing on your own. A nice man would save you from the hell you’ve been subjected to for… Months? Has it been months? Shorter, maybe? Or longer? Time passes differently when all you want to do is die.

“I understand,” you finally answer him. You think your words must come out a little rough, too. The air in this area seems hard to breathe in, and you’re not sure when was the last time you even drank anything. You say it so quietly, you’re afraid that you’ll have to force yourself to speak up, but he nods.

“You’ll be safe now.”

Looking back, those might have just been words meant to comfort you, but you trust this masked man. You don’t know him (not yet), but the way he says it sounds like he means it.

(He means it.)

He goes by Ghost.

He doesn’t tell you why, and you don’t unnecessarily pry yourself into his business.

He doesn’t even tell you the name himself; you hear it from the mouths of the other officers, the other men who helped in rescuing you and the others.

The man who took you — the one in charge of shipping and selling the girls — won’t be giving you any more problems, now. He won’t hurt you again, isn’t even capable of touching you ever again. This is what Ghost reassures you with, and you nod, believing him.

After all, you witnessed him slice the asshole’s neck. You watched the blood spill out of his body. You were being ushered away at the time, but you still found the strength to turn around to watch him die.

You still haven’t found yourself able to detach yourself from him, and he hasn’t found the strength to shake you off just yet. Your fingers look dainty compared to the bulk of his arm, and the uniform he’s wearing only serves to add to his overall mass. You should want to put some distance between you and him; you know what men are like. You know it doesn’t take much for them to snap and change their demeanors in an instant. With the strength you’ve already witnessed and the sheer size of him, you know fighting him off wouldn’t even be realistic. But you still find yourself refusing to leave him alone, as if the evil he just destroyed will come back to life and hunt you down the very moment your savior leaves you.

It’s why you’re in a separate vehicle from the rest of the rescued girls. It’s just the two of you in the back, and the only noise you can hear is the loud huffs from the engine and the sound of tires speeding on rough terrain.

“When we return, there will be people who will come collect you and the others. They’ll clean you up and help you get back on your feet. You’ll be able to start a new life.”

A new life?

The thought excites you.

You don’t know what awaits you outside. When you were a little girl, you were still allowed to bask in the outdoors. The warmth of the sun, the feel of a soft breeze brushing against your skin — sometimes, when you were chained and in your cell, cowering in the dark, you wished that you hadn’t taken advantage of those little luxuries.

“In this life… I will feel the sun?” He hears the innocence in your voice, your question filled with longing and maybe even excitement. It was just past dusk when they rescued you; it’s now nighttime, and he feels himself wishing he had the power to bring the sun down from the sky and present it to you.

“In this life, you’ll be able to do anything you want.”

He’ll personally see to it if he has to.

You had fallen asleep by the time you reached your destination. With one mission successfully completed, Ghost finds himself with another almost immediately after, and with the peaceful expression on your face and the fact that this facility is one of the most secure buildings in the world, he leaves you—

—only to return back to the facility in a little over two weeks.

It’s not as if there’s someone waiting for him in the empty residence he calls home. Besides, it’s only natural — human, even — for him to be curious as to how you’re doing. While he trusts that you’re safe, he finds himself, in between lulls on missions, wondering how you’re adjusting.

(And in the rare moments where he finds himself fighting off exhaustion — the only telltale sign that he’s still flesh and blood and not the phantom his enemies think he is — he finds himself wondering if you’re thinking about him too.)

What did you see when you stared at him that day? He had killed a man — killed many men, actually — without mercy, without hesitation. He’s done it so many times throughout his life that wielding a weapon has become second nature to him.

Sometimes he even feels like he’s the weapon.

And again, he doesn’t care about whether or not he’s deemed a good person or a hero, but he doesn’t want to be a nightmare to you. He can still feel the ghost of your touch lingering on his left arm, the arm that you had clutched the day he rescued you. If not for the employees confirming your presence and guiding him to your room, he would be almost convinced that you’re a dream he thought up himself.

“Poor girl,” the woman leading way is telling him. “She’s been having the worst time out of all the others. I’m not surprised, hearing what they must have had to endure all that time, but the sweetheart can’t even sleep without us sedating her.”

“What?”

The low timbre of his voice makes the word sound more like a growl.

Seemingly shocked at his reaction, the woman almost pauses in her steps before continuing. “Yes, she’s been having nightmares. Thrashing wildly in her sleep, screaming the first few nights, even.” And then, almost as if she’s trying to make him feel better, she adds, “But she’s much better now. Save for a few sobs every now and then.”

He doesn’t know what to make of that. If it had been someone physically tormenting you, he would have no issue in getting rid of the source of your pain. Demons who only appear in nightmares, though — that’s something not even he can fight off for you.

When they make it to your door, the woman knocks gently, calling out your name softly, almost as if she does anything too harshly, you’ll break down.

“I brought someone here who wants to see you, hon. I’m going to come in now, okay?”

The woman eyes him almost warily as if she’s just now taking him in. He didn’t bother changing out of his usual uniform, telling the helicopter pilot that picked him up after his most recent mission to take him directly here instead. In his defense, he hadn’t even anticipated you still being here.

But you are.

He’s well aware that he probably doesn’t look the nicest, his mask serving its purpose and obscuring his whole entire face, making him entirely unreadable. If you’re as skittish as the woman claims you are, perhaps it’ll be for the best if he leaves now.

But it’s too late. She’s opening the door and never one to hesitate, he’s stepping in. The woman doesn’t follow; instead, she shuts the door, most likely ready to call for backup if anything were to happen to you.

You look at him, and then a second later, recognition gleams in your eyes.

Now that it’s not as dark, he’s able to take in every single feature of your face, from the color of your eyes down to the slope of your nose and the shape of your pretty lips. He commits your visage to memory.

“It’s you,” you breathe out, sitting up straighter on your bed. “The man who saved me.”

And if the near reverent way you greet him isn’t enough to have him reeling, the next words you say have his heart freefalling:

“You’re my hero.”

You speak to him so sweetly, in a tone so soft that the words you say wrap around him like a warm blanket. No one has ever said that to him. No one has ever spoken to him the way you do.

He swallows hard, and for the first time in his life, he’s unsure of what to do.

“Have you been alright?” He asks, and your expression falls almost immediately.

You answer him after a few seconds of silence.

“Yes.”

You little liar.

“I’m very comfortable here, but I’ve seen many of the others getting ready to travel elsewhere. The people here are kind, and they tell me they have many houses I can choose from. They’ll help me find work and…” Your voice trails off, and he watches the way your hands curl around the bedsheets. “I’ll be normal. Find a husband, make a family, forget all about this.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yeah.”

You’ll learn soon enough that he doesn’t like lying.

He moves quicker than someone his size should be able to; stealthy, too. You don’t catch his movements, but you blink, and suddenly he’s right in front of you, crouched down so he’s able to look you in the eyes.

You were right. You are able to recognize him by his eyes alone.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know.” When he speaks, you can’t help but hang on to every word. You find yourself nodding. “You’ll answer me honestly then?”

You nod again, this time a bit quicker.

“Good girl.” You hear the approval in his deep tone of voice, and you almost wish you hadn’t. You didn’t know what it’s like to be fed such praise, and you’re stuck starving for it now. “How have you been?”

“Alright. I’m happy to be here, but I—” Your voice cracks, and so does something inside of him. You look down, suddenly more interested in your sock-covered feet rather than his eyes. “Everyone else is able to move on so quickly, or they have someone waiting for them. I have no one. No one is looking for me. No one is expecting me.”

The realization of your reality finally settles in for you with your confession. You were born into that fate; the other girls who used to occupy the cells next to you were stolen. By all means, you were assigned to die there. There isn’t a future for you because you’re certain the universe did not anticipate you ending up like this.

No one is expecting me.

He understands what that’s like. It’s the reason why he’s here, because for once in what feels like forever, he finally has someone he’d like to see after a mission.

“You could find someone out there.”

“What if I leave here, and no one wants me?” The words come out a bit wobbly, and you look at him with glossy eyes and wet lashes.

You’re even prettier than he remembers.

He swallows hard, trying to find the right words to say.

(Soap claims he has a bad habit of saying the most awful things at the worst time possible.)

“That won’t happen.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Because after meeting you for the first time, he — the man with no regard to his own personal well-being and the utmost self-control — finds himself longing to be in your presence. He had to see you again; can’t you already see how you’re taking root inside his very being?

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Will you come back then?” When you look at him like that, all wide-eyed with your pretty lips forming a subtle pout, he thinks he might do something stupid, like—

“Whenever you want me to.”

—make a promise he might not be able to keep.

He gives you a burner phone. It’s supposedly untraceable (he doesn’t let you know about the tiny personal tracker he attaches to it; don’t worry, he’s the only one able to access your locational information), and while he doesn’t give you any explicit instructions, the only number programmed into the contacts list is his.

(That’s fine with you. It’s not as if you have anyone else to talk to.)

You know that he must be a busy person. You wonder if he’s considered a savior to many other people like you. Then innocent thoughts like that spiral into something jealous. Does he normally visit the people he saves? Are there other girls who have been gifted a phone like this?

He doesn’t message you, and you’re too scared of bothering him to reach out.

Every night since he sent you this phone, you’ve laid in bed, thumbs hovering over the keypad, debating what to say if you ever get the courage to text him. Every night, you never hit send on a single draft, and you fall into an uneasy slumber usually after your tenth attempt at a text message.

Sleeping is the worst.

Your nightmares can’t reach you when you’re in the safety of the waking world, but the moment your eyes are closed, it’s like every dark memory you’ve suppressed comes out of the shadows and begins its long-awaited torment.

The feeling of the cuffs on your ankles digging into your flesh feels too raw and real to be a mere memory. The men walking by your cell, sometimes staring at you uncomfortably long, taunting you and calling you cruel names. They’re always so explicit about what they have planned for you, but your seller will never give you up. Not until he finds someone willing to pay the high price he has hanging over your head.

You’re an untouched, undamaged good is what he reminds you. You’ll make him so much money.

But then you feel the cold, clammy grip of his on your arm and his breath on your neck, and you scream and scream and scream.

There must be cameras in the room you’re in because after the first week of nightmares, the kind workers here stop rushing to your room. If you don’t quiet in a few minutes, a male nurse will come in with a syringe and a pitying look before injecting a sedative into your veins. Artificial sleep is the only uninterrupted rest you get these days.

You wake up with your throat raw from your yells, and your skin sweaty. It takes several minutes for your heartbeat to go back to its regular pace, yet the images of your most recent nightmare are still flashing in your mind. You grab the cell phone you keep tucked under your pillow. It must be because of your panicked state of mind, but you find yourself clicking his contact.

The dial tone grounds you into reality, but before you can truly come to your senses and hang up, he answers the call.

“Hello?” Hearing his voice calms you down even more so despite the slight crackle that comes with hearing him through the speakers of the phone.

“Ghost?” You’re whispering, even though you’re certain that the walls are thick enough for you to speak normally without bothering anyone. Besides, anyone with ears probably already suffered through your fit.

“[Name].”

You don’t remember telling him your name, but it makes sense for him to know it. After all, he’s the one who visited you several days ago.

The thought that he would have to make an effort to seek you out and learn more about you is far more comforting than you think it should be.

“S-sorry for bothering you. It’s probably late—”

“Are you alright?”

“Am I… Alright?”

“Yes.” After contemplating a bit, he adds, “And don’t try to lie to me, either.”

“Are you busy?”

He’s in a safe house ten minutes away from the facility; say the word, and he can get there in three.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine.”

“No, I’m not busy. Now your turn: how are you feeling?”

“Scared.” It’s easier to admit things when you’re unable to see him. Staring at him makes you nervous because you think he’ll be able to read everything on your own face. Vulnerability is never easy.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Maybe it’s the exhaustion messing with your mind, but you think his voice might have just softened, just the slightest.

“Yeah.”

He’s silent, but you think you hear some slight movement on his end.

“Ghost?”

“Yes?”

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m going to visit you. Do you not want me to?”

You’re scared to answer, too frightened that your tired state will cause you to let the raw truth slip out.

You think you’re always going to want him.

He can only visit you when he’s in between missions.

(Unfortunately for you, breaks for him are a rarity.)

He comes back to you, sometimes a little bruised, sometimes a bit more broken than when he had left, but he always keeps his promise.

Whenever you want him to be with you, he’s there.

The nightmares gradually get better with time, but you always sleep the best when he’s with you. At first, he would just sit in a corner of your room, almost impossible to view unless you focus hard on him (if you didn’t know he was there, you probably never would have noticed him at all). He eventually began to sit closer to you, somewhere near the edge of your bed. On the rougher nights, you would find yourself reaching out for his hand.

When his presence alone can’t keep the nightmares at bay, and you wake up from another bad dream, he doesn’t force you to tell him what you see. Instead, he talks. Despite his rough voice, the sound of him telling you about the mundane aspects of his day is the most comforting thing in the world. It’s like your own personal lullaby.

He tells you about his life before this. You tell him about yours, too. His gloved hand brushes against your cheek as he tucks back a strand of your hair. You lay your own hand atop his, feeling the warmth of him even through the thick leather. You tell him about your nightmares, all the darker details that make you loathe your very being. He tells you his name.

You whisper it back to him.

Simon. Simon Riley.

You say it several times, sometimes slowly. Testing out how the syllables rest on the tip of your tongue.

He likes his name best when you’re the one saying it.

The facility starts to fill up with other saved victims from missions more recent than yours. You’re free to stay here as long as you like, but one day, Simon presses a key into the palm of your hands. You don’t need him to say anything; the imploring look in his eyes, your favorite feature in the whole world, ask the question for him.

Now the two of you share a bed. His toothbrush stands right next to yours, and the former empty residence that Simon used to spend his off-time avoiding is a home. He cares about what will happen to him because every time he leaves for a mission, you send him off with a soft see you soon!.

He knows that keeping his heart cold would ensure that he would go to great lengths to see to the success of his missions, but running towards death is such a silly thing. Why would he be okay with chasing after that when he knows he can return to his safehouse hidden in the woods and find you in the kitchen humming? If anything, he completes his missions even faster now. You told him that you’ll be expecting to see him soon, and he’s not one to disappoint you.

Simon Riley knows he’s got it bad. He can’t sleep well unless his sheets smell like you. He asks if he can bathe you just to run soap over the smooth skin of your body because he’s entirely obsessed with you, every scar and beauty mark. He knows it’s dangerous, but he keeps a Polaroid of you tucked safely away in one of his inner pockets in his uniform.

One morning, nearly a year since he rescued you, you tell him you love him.

He lets you take his mask off.

You’re smiling at him, eyes shining as you take in every minute detail. You can’t believe this is a face he would want to hide from the world. Selfishly, you’re a bit pleased with knowing you’re one of the few to see him like this, completely bare. To make the moment even better, he says it back.

He loves you.

“I know.” You tell him; it’s obvious. His mask is resting in your hands, after all.

Simon rushes home after every mission to see you, his first love, his only love. He loves coming back to you when you’re barefoot in the kitchen or washing your face in the bathroom, but he loves it the most when you guide him to your shared bedroom, the prolonged distance between the two of you making your longing for him all the more intense.

He loves you all the time, especially when you’re lying beneath him completely bare, with your hands (so much smaller compared to his own) eagerly touching every inch of him you can reach. He just got back; his uniform is partially off, all the weapons left hanging by the doorstep. He’s got nothing but the protective armor and the thick fabric on him, and with the way your body is practically calling for him, he doesn’t think you’ll give him enough time to strip himself of his clothes.

“Simon — missed you so much,” is what you whine out. He knows. You don’t have to whimper it out to him because your actions (and body’s reactions) leave nothing to assumption. You’re struggling to lift yourself up to pepper kisses all over his unmasked face, dainty hands tugging at his sleeves. Your cheeks are flushed, and you attempt to rut against him, trying to get some type of friction to satiate yourself.

You’re already so wet for him that he can feel it through his uniform.

“I know, baby. I’ve got you.” That’s your Simon. Always reassuring, always there when you need him. And right now, you need him so desperately that you’re soaking the bedsheets beneath you.

True to his word, you feel a gloved hand teasing your slick folds, smearing your arousal everywhere.

“Fuck.” He breathes out, admiring your glistening folds for just a second with a sort of sick fascination. He can spend hours with his head in between your thighs and your hands clutching at his hair. He won’t be leaving you so soon, though. He’ll have all the time he wants to bring you to the height of pleasure with just his tongue; tonight, he wants to give you exactly what you need.

The feeling of two of his thick fingers working in and out of your tiny hole has you moaning and writhing beneath him. You’re always beautiful in his eyes, but there’s something about you with wild hair and eyes shut from pleasure that makes you practically irresistible to him.

Everything about Simon is larger than life, and the feeling of being so small in comparison to his hulking figure should be frightening. But when he’s above you, his large fingers toying with your pussy in the way he knows you just love, you feel protected. Like he’s your shield from the harsh world outside. Inside your shared bedroom, only you two exist.

Your back arches, forcing his fingers to reach even deeper. The texture of his gloves only adds to your pleasure and in an attempt to prepare you for his cock, Simon adds another finger to stretch out your tight cunt.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?” His words come out through gritted teeth, as if it’s taking everything in him not to replace his fingers for his cock. His tolerance is hanging on by a mere thread, but he refuses to fuck you properly ‘til he’s certain you’re ready to take him. Only when your cum is coating the leather of his gloves will he know.

You nod, occasionally jerking your hips in tandem with his thrusts, chasing after your high. You’re beginning to feel hotter, your pussy becoming even wetter, and neither of you can make out the words you’re mewling out. Perhaps your whines are pleas for more, maybe even mercy.

You can’t last any longer, and as his fingers curl against your sensitive walls, you find yourself nearly screaming his name as you gush around his fingers. He grins at the result of his hard work, withdrawing his fingers just to hold them up to you. His gloved hand glistens in the moonlight, and you can only watch as he raises his fingers to his mouth before sucking your essence off of them, effectively cleaning it up.

He never breaks eye contact with you once.

“Should I try it straight from the source?” His grin is teasing, the gleam in his eyes nothing short of wicked.

You weakly shake your head, already too fucked out to properly respond.

“No? I’ve been starving for your taste all those weeks I was gone, love. You don’t want to be a sweet girl and let me have my fill?” You know he’s just teasing you, but you still find yourself upset at the prospect of displeasing him.

“Not yet.” You pout, spreading your legs for him. “I wanna feel your cock.”

His grin only grows wider.

“Looks like my perfect girl’s been starving too, huh?” He leans down to give you a kiss, and you can taste a hint of your arousal lingering on his tongue. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll give you everything you want and more.”

Everything about Simon is larger than life.

The first time he ever fucked you, you had cried from the stretch of his massive girth invading your previously untouched cunt. The sensation of being filled to the brim was a foreign one, but a feeling you’re certain only he could provide. No matter how many times he’s had you, it always feels like it’s your first time taking him.

He’s whispering words of reassurance as he guides himself into your leaking entrance. Despite him working you to your peak, three fingers doesn’t begin to compare to his dick, and you find yourself whimpering over his words of praise.

“You’re doing so well for me, love. Such a good girl, my good girl.” He kisses your forehead, forcing every inch of himself inside until the tip of his cock is kissing your cervix. The pleasure of being so full outweighs the pain of the stretch your cunt has to make to accommodate his sheer size.

You stare down at where the two of you are connected, taking a sharp breath as the unmistakable bulge in your belly serves as undeniable evidence of just how deep Simon is capable of reaching. It’s always a wonder on how your tiny pussy is always able to take him, and Simon merely chuckles as he notices where you’re staring.

Using the same hand he used to coax your first orgasm with, he gently guides your hand to rest on top of the bulge. He’s smiling as he tells you, “Keep your eyes right there, darling. I want you to watch me as I fuck you.”

His thrusts are always powerful, a true sign of his strength. You’re not even sure where all his stamina comes from because no matter how exhausting his missions may appear to be, he always finds the energy to fuck you well throughout the night.

Your body’s natural instinct is to tighten around him, and the pressure has him growling as he works harder to piston his cock in and out of you. The lewd squelching noises, the smacking of skin against skin — everything is just so downright pornographic.

Your free hand finds purchase on his clothed back, nails digging through the fabric as he continues to work to bring the two of you to an explosive finish.

“Fuck, I missed you so much, darling.” He hisses, relishing in the tightness of your cunt and how your body takes him so well every time. “I don’t ever want to leave you alone again.”

You whine out for him, needing him closer even though he’s already as close as he can get. With his unyielding, powerful thrusts and your heightened sensitivity, neither of you is going to last much longer. He looks down to admire the imprint of his cock in your belly. He loves you and finds every little thing about your body perfect, but he can imagine your belly expanding to make room for his child and your tits swelling with milk. Fuck.

“Want to put a baby in you, love. Will you let me? You’ll never be alone again, not when we make the perfect lil’ family.” He grunts, and you nod, overjoyed at the idea of him wanting something so intimate. A family. Your family. He’ll give you a baby.

“Yes!” You scream out, feeling the coil in your stomach about to snap, every thrust bringing you closer and closer to breaking. “Wanna have your baby, wanna be with you forever.” The words come out sounding like sobs as you feel the tension inside of you snap.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. Going to fill this cunt with my cum, darling.” His thrusts are becoming more erratic as he gets closer to losing control. Both of his hands grip your hips, his hold on you tight as he releases into you with a deep grunt. His cum is thick and warm, filling you up so much to the point where it’s already leaking out despite him staying inside of you all in an attempt to make sure it takes.

Breathless, wild-eyed, red cheeks — the both of you are an absolute mess.

You take a shaky hand to run through his hair that’s damp with sweat, and he leans into your gentle touch. You stare at him with a reverence he feels he doesn’t deserve.

“My hero.”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 #smut #lemon #one shot #drabble

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satoruxx · 6 months

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pairing: gojo satoru x reader summary: best friend!satoru is everything to me, fluff, teeny tiny bit angsty, but only bc of pining (my favorite), here to add to my simp satoru agenda, he’s trying his best but reader is oblivious (same), pls notice him rheya’s note: i cant stop thinking about best friend!satoru so i’m here to share this silly little blurb LMAO that’s it enjoy !! part 2

if satoru had known that being your best friend would be this difficult, he would have turned away from you when you said hi to him on your first day at jujutsu high.

it's not that he doesn't care about you. no, quite the opposite actually. he's always cared about you more than he'd like to admit. he can remember the way he used track the eyes of fellow students trailing you when you walked by. he can remember the sting of his nails as they dug into his clenched palms, and how suguru would pat his shoulder sympathetically when he noticed. he was sixteen at the time.

back then it seemed like he would grow out of his teenage crush, after being dismissed as your good friend for so long. but no, just his luck that these stupid feelings would grow and grow until they were tangled up around his very soul. a vice-like grip.

and now almost seven years later, nothing has changed.

"and he told me that if i wanted to be more interesting i should learn to fence, like he does!" you rant, throwing your hands up as you pace the length of his kitchen. satoru leans against the counter, arms crossed as he watches you vent your anger over yet another failed first date.

"uh huh." he acknowledges, trying to stay focused as you continue your annoyed speech. his fingers flex against his biceps, a thinly veiled attempt at controlling his frustration. whether he's frustrated with you or the man you were with, he has no clue.

"then he asked me where i was from, and then said i didn't look like it!" you rage, face hot as you finally unload the frustration you've been carrying all evening.

satoru huffs in mild irritation, trying hard not to roll his eyes. but you hear it and turn to him, half ticked off and half curious. "what was that?"

he clicks his tongue.

"you do this all the time. you always pick guys who treat you like shit. i'm not even surprised anymore." he snaps, a bit more forceful than he intended to be.

there's a silence that follows, and satoru’s unlucky enough to catch the mildly surprised look on your face. he tongues his cheek, brows pinched as he watches your expression fall. an ugly feeling that reminds him suspiciously of guilt rolls around in his stomach.

"you’re right…" you sigh, shoulders slumping as you cross your arms with a defeated shake of your head. "it's just tiring, you know?"

he turns his back to you, reaching across the counter to start slicing up an apple, trying to keep his hands occupied because they're itching to touch you. but he can't keep the bitterness out of his tone when he answers with a clipped, "yeah i know."

he can practically feel your confused stare on his back. but then you chuckle in amusement, mirth clear in your tone. "what do you mean you know? you literally get attention from random people on the street. you can have anyone you want." you laugh.

"are you serious?" he asks, eyes wide with disbelief as he spins around to face you again. you only blink at him, expression so annoyingly clueless it makes him sigh. he turns away from you once again, going back to cutting the apple.

"what?" you cock your head, not understanding why he's so forlorn about it. "most people would jump at the chance to date you. everyone wants you, you know?"

"not everyone. not the one who matters." he mutters bitterly as he places the apple slices onto a plate. you said all of it so casually, like it's supposed to be obvious, but all satoru feels is an overwhelming wave of disappointment wash over him.

"you…never mind." he relents, biting his tongue. "it's not important."

he hears your sharp intake of breath as you gasp, curiosity no doubt brimming in your barely concealed grin.

"ooh interesting! are you telling me you have a thing for someone, toru?" the teasing in your tone is palpable, and satoru feels his stomach flip pleasantly when you say his name. he turns around to face you, letting his shoulders drop as a helpless smile stretches across his face.

he walks up to you, pushing an apple slice past your lips and chuckling quietly. you're still giving him those curious little eyes as you chew, and he tries to swallow down the overwhelming wave of pure affection that threatens to burst from within. clearly today wasn't the day you were going to realize what kind of feelings he's been keeping a secret for so many years.

that's okay. he'll wait as long as you need him to.

he flicks your forehead gently, before reaching down to tug on your cheek. "don't worry your pretty little head about that, sweet thing. you'll figure it out soon enough."

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aajjks · 3 months

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nowhere (m)

synopsis. breaking up with him is not possible- ever.

warning: yändèrè bèhâvïöür, töxïc rèlätïönshïp dynämïc, töxïc!bf!köö, nön-cön kïssïng, sêxïst bf, cräzy bêhävïöür, ünhëälthy rèlätïônshïp.

disclaimer: this fic contains really triggering dark themes which can be triggering for a lot of people and honestly if you have a significant other that’s like him in the fic then please I’m begging you to leave. This is not something you should have to endure. Please leave. Also reminder that this is completely fictional and this doesn’t represent jungkook at all. This is just a toxic character that’s not him.

How do you tell your, frankly, crazy boyfriend that you want to break up?

You don’t know why you got with him in the first place maybe it was because he was really charming and soft? Respectful and patient? So how did everything change?

Why did he change? It’s like being with him now it’s suffocating you. he’s really clingy and he doesn’t know how to take a no. He does what he wants and you cannot bring it in you to deny him.

Because then the guilt tripping starts.

You don’t understand how a grown man can like him can manage to cry within seconds. You’re tired, it’s been two years- he’s a changed man and you don’t like it at all.

And now you want to break up with him. But you’re not sure on how to go about it. He’s going to be home soon, so you’re feeling really anxious.

Jeon Jungkook is a really sensitive man when it comes to you and your relationship with him, he clearly loves you but his love feels really toxic now.

You love him too but you just can’t ignore the obvious cracks in your relationship- you have to leave before it’s too late. Just as you are pacing around your shared homes living room, you hear someone entering the home code and you’re not surprised because you know who it is.

Ask the door unlocked and he answers you stop pacing around the large room, and before you can even greet him or look at him with focus, he’s calling out your name.

“Yn!!!! my love I missed you so so much!!”

There is the man you’ve been waiting for, and you don’t feel excited to see him, but rather you feel a burden on your heart. Jungkook looks good, he’s always looked good. He’s really particular about his fashion and how he looks.

Something you used to like him but now it’s kind of annoying. Maybe it’s because of the fact that he always wants you to praise him.

You force yourself to smile as he walks closer to you, before dropping his car keys at the nearest table. You wait for him to come to you because that’s how it always is.

He loves it when you welcome him, Jungkook immediately wrapped his arms around your body, his favorite part of your body is definitely your waist. His hands are always resting on it. His grip is definitely possessive..

When he leans in closer to kiss you, you actually manage to dodge it, you can’t help it you don’t want to be with him anymore and what is the point in beating the bush around..? The fear will just keep on fucking with your mind at this point.

Jungkooks gaze changes from affectionate to anger and a small glare is sent your way. You sigh, looking at him.. “jungkook..” you don’t even call him kook or kookie like you used to, and he notices that because he’s tilting his head like he’s confused.

“Yn.. what is going on with you? Why would you refuse my kiss?” Before you can speak. He asks you a question instead, he likes his lips looking like he is genuinely confused and clueless.

He knows how to play dumb.

So before you reply to him, you try to get his hands off your waist, you are actually not sure if you’re going on the right track by doing this but it’s now or never.

“Listen to me.” You look straight into his eyes, but you fail to get his arms off of you. “Jungkook I want to break up.”

You blurt the words out, your heart is beating like crazy right now, because he’s so close to you and his reactions are always over-the-top and unpredictable.

Nothing is the same anymore and it hurts.

“I don’t think we are right for each other and it took me some time to realize that but I’ve given this a lot of thought and I think that this is the best thing for us.” You breathe out when he doesn’t respond. He’s just staring at you with a blank expression.

His eyes are suddenly empty, and his lips are pressed in a thin line, his hands are tightly wrapped around you, it’s like he froze.

“Ugh… I’m so sorry to do this so suddenly, but I cannot be with you anymore” you feel a little bad that you’re being so rude about this but you have to be really blunt because if you’re not, he’s gonna think that you’re just joking.

Because he doesn’t want to take things that he doesn’t like to hear, seriously.

You have to be blunt with him, because he’s always gonna find a reason to dodge your questions or completely avoid what you’re saying.

“can you let me go please? I have to go pack my stuff up… I didn’t do it because I just wanted to tell you first.”

He is still not speaking and it’s getting even more awkward and intense because it’s like you’re talking to yourself, you try again to break out of his grip, but it’s futile.

When you give him a weird look, Jungkook begins to laugh, taking you by surprise. It’s your turn to be confused.

Your soon to be ex-boyfriend, laughing like you just told him a great joke. And it’s starting to piss you off because this is not a joke.

You want to be free.

“Jungkook!” You call out his name, and he just leans more close to you if that’s even possible and all you can smell is expensive perfume, and the scent of cigarette coming from him.

Jungkook doesn’t reply to you and you actually feel like you’ll go insane. If he doesn’t want to reply to you that’s fine why doesn’t he just let you go?

Your questions aren’t answered, but he takes you by surprise once again by pulling you in for a kiss- he immediately shoved his tongue in and you let him because you’re so shocked to even comprehend what just happened.

What the fuck is he doing?

You just broke up with him and he’s kissing you, like his life, depends on it. He’s rough, running his hands all over your back, sloppily kissing you, swallowing your breath away.

You try to push him off of you, but then you just give up when he doesn’t budge, maybe he just wants to kiss you for the last time?

So you let him.

His touch is really familiar and you’re definitely going to miss it. You won’t even lie about that but.. you remind yourself that this is for the better and you shouldn’t melt.

After what feels like hours, he finally pulls away when you try to push him away once again, because he’s forgotten that he hast to stop.

You feel like you’ll actually suffocate, because you are unable to breathe at all, “o-oh my God.” You pant out, finally managing to push him away because he’s also panting, so take the opportunity to remove his hands from you, and you immediately start to back away.

“ what the fuck is wrong with you? I just broke up with you and that’s what you do? You are not allowed to do this anymore… and I’m going away.”

You’re gonna stay with your friend for a while because you don’t have an apartment of your own because you have been living with your ex-boyfriend for the past two years.

This relationship was rushed. You did things with him way too fast. And now you’re regretting every single decision.

“what the fuck are you talking about? Yn… are you fucking stupid? Ha.” he suddenly takes your attention, and you watch him wipe the corner of his lips.

“we’re not breaking up. What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you think this is funny because it’s not- I just came back from a long day work, and this is what you do to me?” He stalks towards your direction.

You back away, and he takes a step closer to you.

“you don’t hold the reins of this relationship- I do.” he scoffs, looking at you, like you’ve grown two heads. “you cannot leave me.” he runs his hands through his long curly locks, looking all frustrated.

“Now shut the fuck up” he smirks, trapping you in. “ do you want me to punish you?” The wall feels so cold, and you actually feel terrified of him.

The look in his eyes right now is animalistic. He looks murderous.

“don’t piss me off- the only way you can break up with me is by dying and I won’t let you die so easily.” do you want to speak but no words come out of your mouth.

Not when he speaks in that authoritive tone, but it’s pissing you off because you’re not a child and he is speaking to you like you you’re one misbehaving child, and you deserve to be scolded.

He’s toxic.

“you don’t own me. I’ve had enough.” You try to argue back but it’s no use really because your words are falling on deaf ears.

He doesn’t even deem you important enough to listen to what you’re saying. “Shut up. You’re really asking for it.” He looks like you with a sickly, sweet smile.

“now… I am hungry, so serve me food. I had a very stressful day and don’t make it even more stressful by talking bullshit.”

you want to scoff but what is the use? There is really no way out of this relationship.- you want to cry right now… this is not the man you fell in love with.

Right now you see a monster standing in front of you, who has got you trapped between him and the wall.

There is really no way out.

“there is no way out yn. Make your stupid little brain understand that. Before I make you.”

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interloved · 2 months

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toxic!anakin skywalker hcs

↳ description box; small collection of nsfw drabbles for anakin x reader; i love my insane pookie

warnings; nsfw warnings; basically anakin is absolutely crazy, deranged and utterly obsessed with you. insane psychos are so hot bUT THIS BEHAVIOUR IS NOT TO BE ROMANTICISED!! and also minors dni

has an unhealthy habit of always checking your phone. he has a physical need to know who you’re talking to and why—that coworker named joseph you’re talking to? yeah, he CLAIMS to want to discuss your work schedule, but anakin’s so sure he wants to take advantage of you. and because anakin’s so smart and knows everything better than you do, you should just trust him and let him delete his number. and the number of every guy you have saved on your phone. but since anakin’s so smart, he’s surely right!!

he NEEDS everyone to know you’re taken and that you’re his. he’ll always have an arm slung around your shoulder casually, his hand resting at your hip, his fingers intertwined with yours or you wearing clothes that are obviously his (he really likes you in his clothes!!). but sometimes, that’s not enough, and he knows it’s pathetic but he literally can’t stand seeing you with any other guy except him. so sometimes, necessities like pretty bruises on your neck or marks on your chest are needed. he’s just letting everyone know you’re his, you wouldn’t object to that… right??

he can and he WILL stalk you. what, you’re going out without him? to go clubbing?? with your friends??? at NIGHT????

he can’t just possibly let you do that, he literally can’t stand the thought of even a mere possibility of you getting hurt somehow, it genuinely hurts his heart because how will he survive without you? you’re his world, and he’ll do anything to keep you. he just cares about you so much :(

anakin definitely has problems with sharing you with your friends, especially your male friends, and you’re so grateful he’s letting you talk to your female friends you’re not even considering talking to your guy friends again. oh, he looks out for you so much, awww

he’s a master manipulator and a professional gaslighter. all of your friends hate him, and are telling you to break him with him because he’s “toxic and obsessive”. baby, he’s not!! he’s just jealous sometimes and just very protective :( it makes him so sad every time you bring this up because why’re you trusting your friends over him? he’s the one you should trust the most, isn’t he? does that mean you don’t love him anymore?

needs your attention 24/7, all the time. he absolutely hates being separated from you, and even in his sleep, it’s like he won’t let go of you. he’ll always have an arm draped over your body, or his hands hooked on your waist. anakin is a naturally light sleeper, so he’ll wake up every time you get up—be it to use the bathroom or when you’re leaving for work. if everything went his way, he’d never let you leave him.

definitely thinks about locking you up in his big mansion. you’re so pretty he can’t stand the lingering gaze of other guys checking you out. he wishes he could be the only one to see your beauty.

likes to be in control and to be in charge of every situation regarding you. he knows he’s very intense in everything he does. that’s why he’s so grateful you put up with all his needs, but anakin is a very sceptical and careful person, he needs to know where you are and who you’re with—it’s no surprise he persuaded you to have your location on at all times. for your safety, he claims, and for his easement.

absolutely gets off on the height difference between you. you’re smaller than him, and he loved how cutely tiny you look next to him—and how you look when he uses you as his fleshlight!!

loves having you all submissive and obedient. his favourite positions are every one in which he can look at you, he loves seeing small tears forming in your eyes, loves you looking up at him in adoration, all trapped and utterly defenceless in his toned arms, mewling and gasping, moaning his name. especially loves when you’re sucking his cock, all pretty and desperate beneath him. just the way he likes you best.

why are you working? he makes enough money to provide for you AND a child; he has a house and a car. what do you need more? he knows you like your job, but he’d rather have you at home at all times. where you’re safe.

spoils you so much. he’ll buy you pretty clothes, sparkly jewellery, expensive shoes and anything else you want, he’d buy you an entire country if you asked him to. it’s not about flaunting his money or wealth or anything, he just gets off seeing you wearing stuff and knowing that he paid for it, so essentially, you’re walking around with his clothes.

for your birthday, he gifted you the cutest and most beautiful necklace!! if only you knew about the tracker inside it. he knows he has your location and you’re such a good girl for him he’s sure you’d never turn it off, but… just in case. (he’s lowkey paranoid)

if he could, he would carve his initials on you. (possessive much?)

but since you’d be hurt and he doesn’t like seeing you cry, he’s tried convincing you of getting a tattoo on your collarbone with his initials, and he’ll get one with your initials on his hip bone. you’re scared to death of needles though :( he’ll have to work on that for a while, but he knows he can get you to do anything for him with the right method and the right time.

has thought excessively and extensively about knocking you up. he knows you wouldn’t ever leave him if you were pregnant with his baby, god bless your sweet, kind and loving soul, and he loves to have that reassurance. so when condoms start to accidentally break, he accidentally forgets to wear one in the heat of the moment and he just can’t stop thrusting his load into you, you should’ve known those were not accidents.

but it’s too late now, anyway, you’re trapped, so you might as well just enjoy being trapped by him forever :)

“keep those legs open for me, doll. you can do that f’me, can’t you?” he mutters against your lips hoarsely, and you’re crying of the overstimulation.

“can’t,” you sniffle and your legs tremble adorably, “ani, ‘s too much… ‘s too much, i can’t…”

his gaze hardens, “you can and you will.”

#toxic anakin #anakin skywalker #obsessive anakin #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin smut #star wars smut #star wars anakin #star wars #sub anakin #anakin imagine

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bedoballoons · 8 months

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heyheyhey!! i would like to req for a fic, where after a BIG fight with your s/o (any genshin char), you're extremely clingy in the morning.

(because fluff after angst is heaven)

Omg I saw this request and literally went YAY! (Fluff after angst is just chefs kiss) I hope you like this and sorry it took awhile to write!!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Being clingy after a big fight~༺}

CW: Slight angst because mentions of a previous fight, overall super fluffy though!

(Includes: Diluc, Lyney, Wanderer, and Neuvillette!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Diluc:

Your eyes fluttered open, dried tears clinging to your lashes from the night before, reminding you of the argument that caused you to go to bed crying. You glanced at the sleeping man next to you, who had originally had his back turned to you but must have shifted in his sleep, his face now mere inches from yours...and his own sadness visible.

You couldn't even really remember what the argument was about anymore and in that moment...your heart didn't want to fight about it, so you moved in closer, cuddling up to his warm figure and resting your face in his chest. To your surprise his arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you against him as he kissed your head softly and whispered with that morning voice you loved so much, "I'm sorry..."

𑁍༄Lyney:

You looked away as Lyney opened the door, leaving the room the two of you would usually have shared and looking rather depressed as he glanced at you, your hands instantly busying themselves with the dishes so you wouldn't have to talk. "Mon amour..." He said softly, voice just above a whisper as he stepped closer to you...his fingers gently touching your chin, guiding it so you'd look into his bright purple eyes. Their normal mischievous glint replaced with guilt and sadness, he was hurting...just like you.

You bit your bottom lip, tears welling up in your eyes as you hugged him so tightly, saying apologies between sobs and rubbing your face in his clothes, the comforting scent of rainbow roses making your heart ache. "Oh mon amour...I'm sorry too..." He said quietly, embracing you just as tightly as you had him and wiping your tears with his thumb before placing loving kisses on your cheeks.

𑁍༄Wanderer:

(I used the nickname Scara here!)

The sound of knocking pulled you out of your thoughts, your eyes flicking to the door to see Scara, who to your surprise was leaning against its frame with his hat turned downwards so you couldn't see his face. Your chest tightened at the sight of him, the harsh words you'd both said the night before flooding into your mind and making your heart ache, was he here to argue more...you honestly couldn't bare the idea of it.

After a few moments of silence, you finally stood up from your chair and took cautious steps towards him, your voice shaky with sadness as you said his name "Scara...?"

Suddenly he grabbed ahold of you, pulling you into him like if he didn't he could loose you forever, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he held you tightly and your heart pounded against the walls of your chest, tears welled up in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around him. His breath warm against your ear and his voice softer than you'd ever heard it as he whispered a apology against your skin.

𑁍༄Neuvillette:

You sighed quietly as you opened the large door, watching as it swung open slowly to reveal Neuvillette, who glanced up at you from his desk, his eyes instantly filling with love and slight guilt when they landed on you. He cleared his throat, about to stand and most likely apologize again for the fight the two of you had previously, but you didn't give him the chance.

Instead you walked over to his chair, climbing into his lap with a light blush on your face and snuggling into his clothed chest as he embraced you tightly, not a word had to be said between the two of you to confirm that everything was alright again. He held you like that as he signed multiple papers and studied previous cases, placing kisses on the top of your head ever so often.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Have a nice day*⁠.⁠✧

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starsforselene · 20 days

Text

Prove it - Mingyu x Reader

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x Afab reader

Rating: explicit MDNI

Contains: Fingering, breast play, light ass smacking, doggy style, little dirty talk, unprotected sex, coming on body

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: During a late night hangout session, you and your friend Mingyu get into a discuss over whether all guys fall into the "boob man" or "ass man" category. Mingyu insists he's both. Naturally, further exploration is required.

Note: This is just Mingyu smut I have no excuse.

“Oh, c’mon! Be honest with yourself and with me!”

“I am being honest! I swear it, I don’t have a preference!” Mingyu exclaims as he leans forward on the couch, eyes bright with laughter.

You huff and shake your head as you fold your legs up on the couch, fighting your own laughter.

“Kim Mingyu, every man is either an ass man or a boobs man. The whole ‘I don’t have a preference’ thing is just a way to seem like a sensitive guy. In touch with your feminine side or whatever they say.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes and leans back again. He’s not annoyed, not truly, the smirk on his face gives him away. You’re half a pizza and two soju bottles deep into your routine weekend hang out and the conversation has somehow ended up here. Some would think it strange to ask your best friend what he prefers on a woman but after years of being friends nothing is off limits anymore; you know nearly everything about each other. Maybe part of you just wants to finally know everything about each other.

“I know that you have a strict preference for douchebags who pretend they’re more mature than they are to get into your pants but, I promise you that I genuinely don’t prefer one over the other. I-” he pauses and looks at you, suddenly a little more flushed. “I don’t have to prove myself to you, you know.”

His hesitation peaks your interest, now you have to know. You sit up and lean closer to him, gaze boring into him. He chuckles but doesn’t break eye contact, heat searing through you as his dark eyes meet yours. You inhale sharply, taken aback by the sudden pulsing between your thighs, fighting the urge to bite your lip when you see him lick his momentarily.

“So what were you going to say? That you don’t have a preference ‘cause it’s all just so great?”

He laughs and runs a hand down his face, leaning his head back against the sofa. He’s splayed out almost fully across it now, leaving you just enough space to still be sharing the couch with him. Typically, the fact that he’s sitting there in just a tank top and some shorts doesn’t bother you–he’s just a friend, after all–but his broad shoulders and large arms are just so…there tonight. He’s gotten bigger lately and you’ve enjoyed teasing him on his new hobby but now your body is reacting to the results of his hard work in ways you find surprising. The silence pulls you out of your thoughts, realizing a little too late that you were blatantly staring at the way his pecs stretch the material of his tank top.

“See something you like?” he says, raising his eyebrows comically as he flexes his chest.

“Stop it! Don’t change the subject!” You swat his arm–his very firm arm–and laugh.

“The answer is yes, okay? I don’t have a preference because it’s all great and I love every single inch of a woman’s body. As all men should by the way, even though they don’t.”

The way he holds your gaze as he replies shoots heat down your spine and into your core. Arousal floods your panties, causing you to clench your thighs together. You’re confused at how your best friend is managing to turn you on like this.

Mingyu’s eyes widen the smallest amount as he drops his gaze down to your mouth. In a panic you gasp, releasing your bottom lip in the process. Shit, were you just lustfully biting your lip at your best friend…and he…seems to like it? You search his face for hints of disgust or humor but find nothing but his widened pupils. You sit back against the couch, putting distance between you and whatever the fuck is happening right now.

“Did my answer satisfy you?” he asks, voice husky.

“Satisfy me? It takes a lot more than a response to do that, Gyu.” It amazes you how well you act unaffected when in reality you’re coming apart at the seams.

“I’m sure it takes plenty to satisfy you,” he retorts with a chuckle as he sits up straighter with what you think is a sly attempt on his part to adjust himself.

When he catches you looking he smirks; you played right into it–he wanted you to look. You take a breath in hopes that it looks like you’re annoyed when you’re pretty riled up.

“Oh? Are you trying to say something?”

“Yeah, actually. I am.”

You laugh despite the heat radiating under your skin. If he wants to play this game you can match his energy; that’s not a problem. You square your shoulders and stare him down, willing your heartbeat to settle even though your pulse has been racing since he mentioned you being satisfied.

“Are you insinuating that you can satisfy me?”

Mingyu swallows hard and you preen with satisfaction at how you’ve affected him. It’s short lived, however, as he leans forward to bridge the gap between you. The air feels charged, his eyes meeting yours with a fire you’re not quite used to seeing from him.

“I just want to show you that I really don’t have a preference, that’s all. Plus, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about what it would be like to satisfy you,” he says with a sly smile.

All bravado leaves you along with the air in your lungs, you blink a few times to make sure you’re not dreaming. It takes only a few seconds to gather yourself enough to respond, the words leaving your mouth before you can begin to question it.

“Fine, prove it.”

He closes the distance between you with a low growl, capturing your mouth with his in a kiss that leaves you reeling. You wrap your hands around his neck, tugging him closer as he deepens the kiss, tongue claiming your mouth. With a groan, he pulls you by your waist until you’re straddling him. You can feel how hard he is already, his clothed cock pressing against your aching core.

Your hips grind against him, seeking friction to quell the aching between your thighs, moaning into the kiss as you feel his cock twitch in response. His grip tightens on your waist, moving your hips faster in time to his own grind against you. It should feel silly to be dry humping like desperate teenagers but hearing Mingyu’s whimpers and his body reacting to yours is intoxicating. Without giving it much thought you’re clawing at his shirt to get it off him, tugging at the material until you’re forced to break apart to take it off. He returns the favor and rids you of your shirt, eyes locked on yours, lips swollen from kissing—he looks downright sinful.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” He asks.

“I need to know if you’re full of shit so, yeah, I’m down.”

Mingyu chuckles and rolls his eyes; he grabs you by the back of the knee and before you can protest you’re on your back. He hovers over you, slotting between your legs with ease. You can feel him, hot and heavy against your core; you can’t help but roll your hips up to seek more, making him hiss and tut at you.

“I’m not surprised that you’re an impatient little brat. Sadly, you’re going to have to wait. I have a point to prove.”

Before you can retort, Mingyu shuts you up with a searing kiss. His hand moves down your side to still your hips, squeezing you once in a warning. You groan into his mouth, your hands sliding up his back to drag your nails down his skin. He shivers against you and you love how you can affect him just as much as he does you.

He starts trailing sloppy kisses down your jaw, stopping to nip just behind your ear, making you gasp and whimper. He smirks against your skin as he continues his way down with other small kisses, bites and soothing licks. You’re panting by now, core throbbing with need with every touch of his lips on your hot skin. His hands expertly snake behind your back until they reach your bra clasp, undoing it with the ease of someone who’s had the practice. You shimmy the straps down your arms and toss the garment aside.

You half expect him to attack you like some kind of over-excited teenager but he doesn’t; he drinks in your form with an almost reverent awe, making you shiver. Mingyu smirks when he catches you watching him, huffing a laugh before kissing you again.

It’s too brief of a kiss, his lips leave yours to trail down the column of your neck as he makes his way down to your breasts. He eagerly sucks a pebbled nipple into his mouth with a groan as his other hand kneads at your other breast. Your back arches in response, soft moans making way to more desperate whimpers and pleads when he tugs playfully on your nipple.

“You sound so pretty like that. Can’t wait to hear you come for me,” he mumbles against your skin as he makes his way over to your other breast.

Your only response is another strangled groan as you tangle your fingers in his hair to tug him closer. Not that you need to because he doesn’t seem to have anywhere else to be; he takes his time licking and sucking on your sensitive buds, never neglecting either breast as he moans along with you. He’s painfully hard against your cunt, cock twitching every time his name leaves your lips, he grinds into you as he ravishes you and it’s nearly driving you over the edge. You’re starting to get overstimulated, half-crazed and desperately wet when you finally beg for mercy.

“Gyu, please, please, I need you. Please,” you breathe as your legs wrap around him.

Mingyu looks up at you, lips deliciously swollen and dark, and laughs. For a moment, you think he’s going to shrug and ignore you but he doesn’t. He sits up and starts tugging your shorts and panties off, you lift yourself off the couch to help him take them off and pretty soon they’re somewhere on the living room floor.

He looks at you, eyes dark with need and runs his hand down your stomach, caressing your skin until he reaches where you need him most. You gasp as his finger dips between your folds, finding your swollen clit and circling it gently as he watches the way his hand moves. You watch him as he sucks in a breath and bites his lip, mesmerized that he’s just so into you. Your lids flutter closed with a groan when he slips a finger inside you, pressing it against your front wall until you’re grinding your hips into his hand with pathetic mewls and whimpers of his name.

Stars explode behind your eyes when he adds another finger, moving them in and out in time with each roll of your hips, scissoring you open for him. He’s moaning with you, low grunts of appreciation every time your walls squeeze around his fingers and how good he sounds is making the room spin and your release draw closer. Mingyu doesn’t miss a beat, using his other hand to circle your clit until you’re gripping the side of the couch and chanting his name like it’s the only word you know how to say, your climax bursting through you in quick waves. You’re left panting and floaty on the couch, but not for long.

“Turn around,” he growls as he undoes the tie on his sweatpants.

You oblige, flipping over and getting on all fours, backing your hips up until they met his. You notice he’s still wearing clothes and you pout, grinding against him until he grabs your waist and stops you.

“Can you learn to be just a little bit patient? I’m enjoying the view,” he teases as he grabs a handful of your ass.

“I promise the view is better once you’re fucking me. I’ll let you smack my ass, too just so you can prove yourself.”

This earns you a huffed laugh from him and soon you can feel his hard cock sliding between your folds, teasing your clit before lining up with your entrance, hands gripping your waist. He’s still long enough that you open your mouth to say something but just as you’re about to say something he finally penetrates you, sliding inside you slow enough to make your shiver as he stretches your walls.

Mingyu sucks in a breath through clenched teeth when he bottoms out, gripping you tighter like he knows that you already want to start moving, craving the sweet friction of him. Your walls pulse around him and you both moan; your head drops forward as you whine, circling your hips despite his hold on you.

“This is so much better than what I imagined. You feel so fucking amazing,” he groans as he starts rocking his hips, slowly, like he’s wanting to savor it.

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about this, too. Not like this though but it’s fine,” you reply with a smirk.

Mingyu stills, you can hear the head tilt in his voice. “Oh? Like how then?”

“Mmmm…you’re usually fucking me faster, harder. But if this is more your speed–oh fuck–”

He smacks your ass before gripping your hips again, picking up his pace until the room fills with the lewd sounds of his hips slamming into you repeatedly. He’s angled himself perfectly, each thrust in hitting your front wall hard enough that you’re breathless and dizzy, the rope in your belly already impossibly tight. You’re gripping the couch cushions for dear life, moaning his name every time his palm connects with the soft flesh of your backside, stars beginning to float in your vision as your walls start to clench around him.

“You gonna come already, baby? You talked such big game about taking me hard, what happened? Too much?” he coos as he continues to fuck you relentlessly.

The only thing you can respond with is a drawn out whine as he continues to fuck you, deep thrusts that hit exactly where you need. You can’t string words–let alone thoughts–together to retort, all you can manage is pathetic begging and pleading for more. Mingyu’s happy to oblige, hands gripping your ass cheeks as he kneads them to ease some of the sting from earlier. You start meeting his thrusts, lost in the feeling of him filling you completely, incoherent praises and pleas falling from your lips as your release draws closer.

“That’s it baby, feels so good. Keep fucking yourself like that, wanna feel you come around my cock,” Mingyu groans as his fingers find your neglected clit to rub tight, fast circles.

You come, eyes squeezed shut as fireworks burst in your vision, your body shaking with every contraction that rolls up from your toes and crashes over you. If it wasn’t for Mingyu holding you up against him as he fucks you through it, you’d collapse onto the couch from the dizzying release that rocks through you. He’s not far behind, hips jerking erratically as he tries to prolong your pleasure, deep moans and pathetic whimpers falling from his lips as he pumps into you wildly.

He pulls out without warning, the emptiness a little jarring as he groans behind you, hand on your ass to stop you from moving. You feel the warm ropes of his come against your skin as he groans your name breathlessly between deep moans.

He’s up before you have time to make a comment about your situation, disappearing into the bathroom down the hall and coming back with a washcloth.

“Sorry I didn’t ask, felt it was a better option than the alternative,” he comments as he wipes you down.

“I’m on birth control but I guess you wouldn’t know. Thanks for uh, cleaning up the mess for me.”

“Would be rude if I didn’t, you know? Anyway, hope that you believe me now,” Mingyu chides with a smile.

“I’m not convinced, if I’m honest. I’ll need further research to come to a clear conclusion,” you say as you get up to get dressed.

“Oh, you’ll be coming, alright.”

#mingyu imagine #mingyu smut #mingyu fic #mingyu x reader #svt smut #svt imagine #svt fic #fic

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