#FUCK OFF TEARS I LIKE CRYING ALL BY MY LONESOME
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Thinking about The Ghost and Mrs. Muir and how the ghost realizes she can't live a full life dreaming about him so when she sleeps one night he tells her everything between them was a dream and it makes you think what's sadder, the love that could never be or the love that was forgotten?
#the ghost and mrs muir#this movie makes me feral#my mom made me watch it when I was a kid and i didn't want to watch it#ninety minutes later I'm on the floor sobbing#FUCK ME IM STILL SOBBING#FUCK OFF TEARS I LIKE CRYING ALL BY MY LONESOME#THEN AT THE END THEY JUST LOOK AT EACH OTHER LIKE FINALLY#understanding#knowing#it says more than a thousand words
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BECAUSE I LIKED A BOY / CL16.
in which the world’s favourite pop princess becomes tangled in the life of a certain formula one driver, flipping her entire world upside down.
( charles leclerc x singer!au )
track one: lonesome. track two: fast times. track three: nonsense. track four: opposite. track five: how many things. track six: bad for business.
✩⡱ warnings: some swearing, sexual reference
IMESSAGE.
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y/nontour y/n in berlin tonight 🫶
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user she’s so slay
user the fact she was crying during the next song too 😭
user poor girl’s had her heart broken twice in the space of six months
user charles done fucked up big time
touring through heartbreak was quite possibly the hardest thing to be done. city after city, having to get on stage every night with a smile on your face, all while wondering what you had done wrong. thankfully, your fans were as supportive when you were sad as they were when you were happy.
but you’d never felt lonelier. after three years of a relationship with austin, you were sure you could never trust another like that again. and mere weeks later came charles leclerc, snatching up your heart and making you blind to any hurt you’d felt before. you were brand new with him, and he had trampled it under his pretty foot.
curled up on the bed of this week’s hotel, an old rerun playing mindlessly on the television, you stared straight ahead at the wall — only pulled out of such a trance when a knock sounded at the door. thinking it was only room service, you dragged yourself to the door’s entrance, only to find lewis hamilton stood on the other side.
“lew? what are you doing here?” you questioned, brows knitting together. he stepped inside, not saying a word other than pulling you into a hug. if it weren’t for the fact you were dried of tears, you’d have broken down.
“thought you could use a friend,” he told you, a fond smile on his face. but there was something in his eyes, something he was battling with. “but, about charles… i really think you should hear him out.”
“lewis, please don’t.”
“he fucked up, i know that. but i saw him with that girl the night of the party. he was practically trying to shove her off of him, and when he knew you’d been and left he went straight after you.”
you were crying now, afraid of what the real truth was. “what about the picture of him and her leaving together?”
“come on, y/n. you know the media better than anyone. she probably followed him out and they’ve made it look like something different.”
you sighed, leaning your head against your friend’s shoulder. your chest was heavy with a decision to be made. the risk of trusting him again, of trusting anyone, only to be caught up in a vicious cycle of heartbreak.
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yourusername life lately ❤️🩹 oh and my new single “opposite” is out now btw
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zendaya new music!!! my life is improved
user a song after the charles drama??? TEA
lizzo pop off queen 👑
lilymhe how can you still look so pretty when crying 💔💔💔
user charles leclerc better count his days
TWITTER.
IMESSAGE.
writers note: it’s concerning how attached i am to this parasocial relationship. petition for sab and charles to date because they’d be such a sexy couple
tagged: @leclercloml @vroomleclerc @gaviypedrisbride
#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#charles leclerc instagram au#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc#charles leclerc imagine#formula 1 imagine#lando norris x reader#carlos sainz x reader#daniel riccardo imagine#lance stroll x reader#fernando alonso x reader#max verstappen x reader#lewis hamilton x reader
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Devotion
Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1.2K WC
Masterlist
Warnings: agression, insults, general rudeness, crying, soft boy Astarion
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Tensions were high in camp generally, being beaten down on the daily fighting such powerful beings was enough to irritate everyone. For the most part you were just trying to avoid everyone, give them peace. You sought out your lover, Astarion, for comfort yet were greeted with annoyance and dismissal. It hurt your feelings and you were open with him about that. That is where the fight started but gods did it evolve. Every little annoyance with each other came spewing out until it turned into this giant ugly monster that enveloped you both.
“Just leave me alone!” Astarion yelled at you but stayed in his spot.
“Excuse me? You’re in my tent.” you said, crossing your arms.
“I have had enough of your attitude.” Astarion said in a low voice.
“Likewise my dear.” you shot back at him.
He stalked towards you, his eyes were sharp and you could see the anger in his face. “What was that?” he growled.
“I said I’ve had enough of you. You want to be alone? Fine. Be alone but go do it somewhere else.” you shoved past him.
He gripped your arm tightly pulling you harshly back to where you were standing before. You winced, his grip hurting you. You tried to yank your arm away but all that did was make him grip you harder.
He walked you backwards until your back hit the pole holding your whole tent up. You winced at that as well, the wood scraping against you roughly.
“I would speak more softly to me.” Astarion gritted.
“You’re hurting me.” you said while trying to pull his hand off your arm.
He squeezed your arm tighter, you let out a yelp. This cleared his mind right up; he let go of you but you remained where you were. He reached up to inspect your arm. You flinched away, shielding your face.
Astarion took a step back from you, his face contorted with a look of utter sorrow. “I wouldn’t hurt you…” he murmured.
“You did hurt me.” you said as you shrugged your cloak off, looking down at your arm. A red mark already forming into a hand shaped bruise laid where he grasped you.
His eyes widened at the mark, he looked down at his hands. His eyes met yours and as he moved towards you he saw your face flash with fear as you moved away from him. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.
“Get out.” you said, tears brimming in your eyes.
“Darling I…”
“Get out! Touch me again and I’ll cut your fucking hand off.” your tears fell but they weren’t from sadness or fear, they were from rage.
He flinched at your harshness, having never seen you like this before. He wanted to stay, to make it right somehow. But he couldn’t and that's what hurt the most. He left. His mind went elsewhere as he sank down into his own bed. It felt cold. He hadn’t been without you in months, everything felt dark and lonesome.
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He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t think. He had never had to apologize for hurting somebody, if anything he was rewarded in the past for it. But he never wanted to hurt you, and now that he had, all he felt was confused. He truly didn’t mean to. Having just fed, he didn’t realize his strength. He consistently forgot how strong he was now that he was feeding on thinking creatures. He cursed himself, he wanted to cut out his heart. He decided he would do what you asked, he would get out.
He sat on the hillside watching the sun go down and the moon rise. He had his bag packed, just a few things, including a ring you had given him less than a week ago. A ring of devotion. He held it between his fingers, a single tear slipped down his cheek. Gods how he wished this all turned out differently. How he wishes he could have been better for you. Perhaps Cazador was right, he was nothing, and he would always be nothing.
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You were still angry, he hadn’t left his tent in days and the first thing he did was go sit on a hill? You glared at him as you watched from the mouth of your tent. You looked down at your arm, the bruise was fading, just yellow and splotchy now. You knew he didn’t mean to hurt you, he would never. But that didn’t change the fact that he did. You didn’t fear him, you just wanted an apology and for this stupid fight to be over. You went to bed, tossing and turning all night, unable to slip away.
You rolled over to the sound of footsteps. Keeping your eyes closed but just barely cracked, pretending to sleep, you saw Astarion looking at you from the front of your tent. His face was so sad, so forlorn. He watched you for a moment longer before leaving. You listened to his steps, but they didn’t lead back to his tent. They got further and further until you couldn’t hear him anymore. Something in your gut told you to follow him, so you did. You saw his tracks lead out of camp.
“And just where do you think you’re going?” you said as you caught up to him about a mile from camp.
He looked shocked to see you when he turned around. “To wash.” he lied quickly.
You raised your eyebrow as you walked up to him, “Really? A mile away from camp? With a backpack? If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were leaving for good.” you put your hands on your hips, awaiting his answer.
“I… am.” he said, his shoulders slumping and his eyes looking downwards.
“Oh? And why is that?” you asked.
“I am a danger. I don’t want to hurt you again.” he said, tugging his backpack closer to him.
“This will hurt me more than you could ever imagine.” you said, holding his cheek. You weren’t angry anymore, irritated was a better way to describe it.
His shaking hand rested over the top of yours, he sighed, “I don’t know how to fix what I’ve done.”
“An apology would be a good start.” you mumbled with a small smile.
“I am sorry, truly. I forget myself, my strength. My temper is so… easily rattled. I just… I’m so sorry Y/N.” he said with a shaky voice.
You kissed him softly, “I accept your apology. Now I need you to make me a promise.”
“Anything.” he said quickly.
“Promise me we'll talk things through. That we’ll be rational, patient. And that you won't just pick up and leave after every small fight.” you pleaded with him.
“Yes! Yes, of course… Is your arm alright?” he asked, his eyes glancing towards it.
“Good,” you leaned up to kiss him again. “It’s fine, I can hardly even see it now.” you said as you showed him your arm.
“Do you still trust me…? Love me?” he asked, he wanted to hold you close so bad but he restrained himself.
“Of course. I’m not afraid of you Star, I was just angry. Of course I love you and trust you.” you pulled him to you in a crushing hug.
He cautiously wrapped his arms around you, he looked down to the ring on his finger. Devotion, he thought. He was devoted to you above all else.
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Naboo's Note:
Hello!!! This was based off a request and I loved writing this. As a reminder to all - REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!! I have another fic idea so be on the look out for that in the next few days. Thanks for everything! XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX!!!!!!
#baldurs gate 3#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#bg3#writing#bg3 wyll#gale of waterdeep#karlach#lae'zel#astarion bg3#bg3 fanart#bg3 tav#bg3 astarion#bg3 spoilers#bg3 art#baldurs gate#isekai#tav#baldursgate#baldurs gate astarion#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate iii#baldurs gate fanart#astarion brainrot#baldurs gate tav#neil newbon#cazador szarr#baldurs gate 3 astarion#astarion#baulders gate 3
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Happy Friday! Can I please request FWB #10 with either Nanami or Higuruma? Choice is yours ! ^_^
Thanks!
10. “Is it so wrong that I want to be yours? That I want us to be more than whatever the fuck this is? Because I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep lying to myself that I don’t want more with you, because it’s fucking me up so badly.”
warnings: slight smut content, cussing, mentions of alcohol, a little angsty, yearning...so much yearning
Hiromi was desperate to appeal to you. The arrangement had been made so long ago, and the lines had blurred so much he didn’t see why you were reluctant to allow him into your heart. You were in his. A little at a time you’d burrowed yourself deeper until his heart was your home, and he had no plans of kicking you out. For months he’d been trying to fight it off, the urge to claim you and make you his once and for all. Sometimes he feared he was going completely mad with desire. He could almost imagine himself buying the two of you a little house, maybe getting a couple of cats or a dog. He’d sometimes get completely lost in this fantasy, only to snap out of it.
His hands are trembling when you come to him again one night. There’s alcohol on your breath from the drinks the two of you had shared earlier. Your kiss is so tender, so sweet he wonders if you share his feelings. Maybe, just maybe, there’s hope for him still. There could still be something in this broken world worth fighting for. You nuzzle into him, your nose rubbing against his, the feature on himself he felt so insecure about you so often gave gentle affection.
After you’ve both reached your climax, you lay on his chest. Your breath is soft on his skin as his hands idly rub your thighs and hips. He kisses your forehead softly.
“Thanks for letting me come over tonight,” you lift your head off his chest to give him a soft smile. Your cheeks are so flushed and your eyes look a little sleepy.
“It’s no problem,” he assures you and kisses you softly.
“I guess I should get going, huh? We both have work in the morning.”
He swallows hard past the lump in his throat before nodding. He feels cold and lonesome as soon as you leave his embrace.
“You know, uh, you could spend the night,” he suggests sheepishly.
“Oh? What’s gotten into you? I thought you said no sleepovers.”
“Y-yeah, but I just…You’re always welcome to stay here with me,” he bites his lip and blames the alcohol for what he says next. “I mean you could stay forever if you want.”
Your eyes grow wide and you giggle. It’s not meant to be malicious, it was just a reflex from his sudden proposal. It’s enough for Hiromi to assume you’ve rejected him. Here he is doing his best to confess his feelings, and you’re fucking laughing at him. He sneers as he throws the blankets off of himself and gets out of bed. You’re quick to get yourself together when you realize he’s upset.
“Hiromi, I didn’t mean to…
“To what? Laugh in my face?” he scoffs as he pulls on his sweatpants. “So what, I’m good enough for you to ride my dick, but that’s it?”
“No! It’s not that at all! Please,” you try to rectify, but he’s too lost in his feelings to hear you now.
He paces the room like a wounded, defensive animal, “Is it so wrong that I want to be yours? That I want us to be more than whatever the fuck this is? Because I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep lying to myself that I don’t want more with you, because it’s fucking me up so badly.”
“Just listen to me!” you plead with him, and he freezes when he sees the tears in your eyes.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he runs over to you and wraps his arms around you. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”
You cling to him, seeking comfort in his arms as you have so many times before.
“Just let me stay. I wanna stay,” you cry softly into his bare chest.
“Baby, I don’t want you to stay because I made you feel like shit.”
“That’s not why I wanna stay,” you kiss his chest, right over his heartbeat. “I love you, dummy.”
#🌟written in the stars#hiromi xreader#hiromi jjk x reader#hiromi higuruma#hiromi higuruma x reader#higuruma x reader#higuruma hiromi x reader#hiromi x reader
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Okay so we all know what kind of man könig is by now… a big killing machine who enjoys the color of blood BUT what if he was in a situation where HE is the one dying??? out in the field, far far away from his Engel. Would he be afraid? Would he cry? Or would he smile perhaps?
HES EATING AT MY BRAIN I WANNA THROW HIM OUT A WINDOW!!!!
Omg you let König in through the window after I specifically told you to let him in? No…!
CW: Angst??! Crying, dying and broken König. (The therapy bill I’m sending you guys is gonna be fat) But he is only dying he's not going to *DIE* these are only his thoughts when he thinks it's over!!! His team will rescue him!
Oh my goodness if he was dying :'(
How could this happen? He was supposed to be invincible…!
König would lie there in a minor shock. He would be annoyed first, like super annoyed, that somebody bested him. Somebody fucking got him. That’s humiliating.
Then his brain would consider it an honor: this is a warrior’s death, just the way he always wanted. He would act so tough at first, imagine himself as this lonesome, mythical barbarian, dying amidst his slain enemies, a dark, fallen hero who will soon be claimed by a sweet goddess of death. All his pain will finally be gone. That's a bonus, right?
It's not a big deal. It's not.
He laughs and cries at the same time, trembles a little because even if he’s a behemoth who won’t stop after you just shot him, his body can still go into a shock when he’s finally forced to calm down. (Pain and blood give König berserker abilities)
The reality starts to sink in, and König whispers, just a couple of times, for Mama. Then he calls for his Engel, choking on his own blood as he does it, as he remembers all the good times they had (only a bullet to the head or lungs would stop this man for good.)
He shouldn't be crying... but there he is, finally shedding some searing hot tears. They burn his cheeks when they fall, it feels like they have been locked inside forever, like there’s been a volcano inside him that finally gets to erupt. But it’s not a heavy stream of lava that's being released: it just feels agonizing and violent, like everything else in his life. The jerks that go through his body only push more blood up his throat.
He remembers the last time he saw Engel and how sad he felt when he had to rip himself off of her warm, sweet, sleeping form. He should've returned to the bed one more time to give her a good, fond squeeze.
Will Engel mourn him…? Will she come to the funeral and bring flowers to his grave?
Nevermind the dark, magnificent goddess. At the moment of his death, König would repeat the names of the two remarkable women in his life who, perhaps, loved him…
Mama and Engel ❤️
... And then his team would come to the rescue, one of the lady soldiers looks just like his angel (he's hallucinating) and he passes out just before they tell him he will live to fight another day ❤️❤️❤️
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Could you write an angsty Joel Miller x wife!reader were they have an argument and it's all abgsty and Joel yells at her and says mean things that make the reader cry and lock herself away. His words just break her completely emotionally like she'll become just a shell of herself for the next days or week and does nothing only stares out the window quietly and in thought and doesn't speak a single thing to Joel.
Make him see all this change in behavior of the reader and suffer and cry for making reader so sad.
Sorry English is not my first language but please make a happy ending 🙏🏽
— O’ CHILDREN
pairing(s); angry!joel miller x hurt/wife!female reader
wordcount; 1.2k words
warnings; angst, arguing/yelling, emotional breakdown!reader, mention of kids, swearing, happy ending.
proofread?; yess
note from author; first fix of the year, has to be MY HUSBAND!!!! & the accent makes me weak in my knees EVERYTIME!!!!
summary; you want to add to your future with joel but, he’s afraid to take that step. The possibility of losing someone else hurts too much.
You and Joel had been sitting on the couch, snuggling and watching a movie - something of which you couldn't remember the name. The past few weeks were rather difficult, you two had been talking about having children. Joel was 100% against the idea, and it was frustrating you that there was no communication. You stood from the couch to get a glass of water - hoping that would distract your thoughts.
Joel sat up immediately, causing the remote to fall off the couch. He groaned when he picked it back up to set it on the couches armrest. “Ar’ you alright darlin’?” He asked, with genuine concern. You took a sip of your water to calm yourself down. Your thoughts had been racing with the topic of children, you knew you wanted them - even in the apocalypse. But you also knew where Joel stood with that idea. You didn't want to start an argument but - you didn't want to lie to him either, when answering his question. “Not really.”
Joel sighed gently and got up to walk into the kitchen. He furrowed his brow and placed his hands on your shoulders gently. “What’s wrong?” He asked. You look up at him, shaking your head. “It’s going to start an argument.” You firmly stated.
Joel sighed softly, knowing the answer before you even said it. “It’s the kids thin’ again, isn't it?” You scoffed looking at him. His reaction wasn't handled well. “You say that like it's a bad thing.” Joel rolled his eyes. “It’ really that hard for you t’ understan’? We're not in a good enoug’ situation to have ‘em.”
You laughed, in more of a sarcastic way than intended. “We're never going to be in a good situation. Is that too hard for you to understand?” You mocked him, out of anger. Joel scowled at you, as you could feel his anger rising. You were pushing his buttons. “Don’t you dare get smart with me. Ya know damn’ well I'm right.”
You shake you're head at him again. “Well, I'm so sorry that I wanted to have a conversation about our future.” You moved past him towards the couch again. “Our future don’t involve kids.” He spat out. He had given no wiggle room, no room for you to even argue your point. “What ar’ we gonna’ do? Have a baby, fight infected an’ then take it t’ daycare?” He mocked you. “Gimme’ a break.”
You clenched your jaw as you got back off the couch, as quickly as you had sat on it mere seconds before. You turned on your heel, with tears fighting to fall. You weren't even mad about not having a baby - you were mad that he wouldn't even try to talk to you calmly about the situation . “I’m going to bed.”
“Fine.” He said, not even turning to face you. “You wanna keep bitchin’ and moanin’ - pushin’ everythin’ to the edge like you always do. Fine. Go sleep it off.” He was fed up with the conversation and he made it bluntly obvious. You glared at him on the stairs, tears now spilling. “Are you fucking kidding me?” You muttered and walked up the stairs, shutting the bedroom door. Joel flopped onto the couch with a loud sigh, his face buried in his hands. He felt like a real ass for making you upset, but he didn't want to make the concession of saying so. He kept himself occupied with his thoughts, the guilt eating at his gut.
You slammed the door as tears fell from your eyes, you threw one of the pillows from your shared bed at the wall. Joel rubbed his temples as he heard you slam the door slam shut. He knew he should go talk to you, make things right…but maybe he should just let it blow over? The seemed like the better option.
︒✯⋅
You had been locked away in your bedroom for the night, and even part of the next morning - the only time you went downstairs, was to get food. Joel was up early, and the coffee he brewed was filling the house with the a pungent scent. He waited patiently for you to walk in the kitchen, if you would even come downstairs.
You hadn't slept that night, not after the arguing. You made your way downstairs, having smelt the coffee from the comfort of your warm bed. Your eyes were bloodshot and tear stained when you shuffled into the kitchen to grab your mug. You didn't say a word.
Joel looked at you, his hazel eyes trying to find yours. His expression was stoic, giving you no hint of his thoughts. But you could tell that he was feeling guilty. “Didn’t sleep well?” he asked, taking a sip of his own coffee. You poured your own coffee in silence.
Joel noticed you didn't respond, not that he expected less. “I was kinda a dick last night, wasn't I?” You still didn't respond as you turned to lean your waist on the counter. “I should've acted mor’ maturely. I was jus’ frustrated, is all.” Joel said, hoping that you would say something…anything.
You looked at him over your mug. “I'm not even upset with the fact that you don't want kids,” you started. “I'm upset that you don't communicate calmly with me.”
Joel sighed, not wanting to admit his fault. “Maybe I have a temper I should work on.” He paused. “It’s jus’ that ya won't let it go.”
You took a moment to collect your thoughts before speaking. “I'm sorry for pushing it.” You added. “I just want to experience a normal life with you - something we don't have often.” You put your mug down behind you and stepped forward. “I love you, you know?”
Joel couldn't help but smile at that. You loved him, and he loved you. “I know ya do, I love ya too.” He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you against him. You sighed into his chest. Your eyes were still red and puffy from a night of crying, but being in Joel’s arms again made you feel calmer. “No kids then?” You tried to joke lightly.
Joel laughed softly, rubbing your back. “No kids.” He kissed your forehead, then spoke again. “Besides - what makes ya think we'd be good parents? Can hardly cook a decent dinner.” This comment made you chuckle, and you needed one after the night you had. “You’re the one eating all the ravioli cans.” You teased before yawning, the lack of sleep catching up to you.
He laughed, looking at you softly. “Ya should get some sleep, ya look like hell.”
You rolled your eyes playfully at him. “And here I thought you'd tell me how beautiful I am - at least after an argument.” You wrapped your arms around him and kissed his cheek. “Let’s both go to sleep, the couch must've been uncomfortable.”
Joel chuckled again, taking your comment as the teasing it was. “Sorry, but ya look like a mess.” He teased, caressing your face lovingly. He took hold of your hand and led you up the stairs to your shared room - falling right on the bed next to you.
read my merged works here!
#writing#reqs open#request#oneshot#headcanon#the last of us part two#the last of us part 2#joel the last of us#the last of us#joel tlou#joel x reader#joelmiller#joel miller#joel miller is still hot when he’s sad#joel miller makes me feral
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Prompt idea maybe: "You look so pretty when you cry."
sorry this took me a minute, but the right scenario needed time to formulate
Harringrove pre-relationship, post S2/pre S3, marijuana
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He’s stoned as hell when he says it, of course. Otherwise he would never have opened his mouth and let something so totally idiotic come flying out in front of Hawkins’ notorious bad boy, Billy Hargrove. But they both show up at one of the quarry’s lesser known spots at the same time and both outright refuse to leave… So the somewhat-rivals begrudgingly agree to share some of Eddie Munson’s better shit and ignore the tension brewing between them. At least for a few glorious hours.
Until Steve exhales a cloud of blue smoke and says offhandedly: “You look so pretty when you cry.”
Billy’s head snaps up, expression grim – he’s borderline murderous already. The blond’s upper lip curls back until he’s snarling, until Steve is staring down a Billy who’s more wolf than boy. “What the fuck did you say to me, Harrington?”
Steve blinks. Shit. How is he supposed to answer that when he hadn’t even meant to open his mouth in the first place!? How the hell is he supposed to tell the guy who beat the shit out of him a few weeks ago that he looked stunning from below–
In retrospect, obviously. At the time of their altercation, Steve had been angry and frightened and was trying his best to protect the kids; which is, ironically enough, also what Billy had been trying to do. He’d been trying to protect Max from an entire room full of strange guys.
Which, like, fair enough.
But even after the Billy’s-fist shaped bruises have healed and the cuts fade to nothing, Steve’s mind keeps wandering back to those awful but electrifying moments before unconsciousness. The memory is glorious: blood dripping from that statuesque nose, tears forming at the corners of the younger boy’s wrathful blue eyes as he drives his fist into Steve’s face over and over. The howl Steve saw but never quite managed to hear, straining like distant thunder in the back of Billy’s throat.
He’d been pissed at Billy, going out of his way to avoid the blond until Max filled him in on what went on at their house on Cherry Road. Staying mad about something as stupid as a misunderstanding in the wake of El’s incredible victory and this new information seems childish. Stupid. Steve has seen the end of the world and faced it head on, so what’s one equally lonesome asshole from California, really?
“Hey, pretty boy, you gonna fuckin’ answer me?”
“Oh!” Steve shakes his head and bites his bottom lip before exhaling. “Right… I mean, you have like–” Fuck. “–I don’t know dude, I’m high as fuck!”
“Well that’s kind of a weird thing to say, man.”
“I know that, Billy. Christ, you think I wanna sound this stupid all the time? Kids make fun of me when I open my mouth.”
Unexpectedly, the blond boy’s frown deepens. He starts rolling another joint on the hood of Steve’s car. “That’s not very nice of them, considering how much of your trust fund you’ spend on gas to tote them everywhere. If I were one of those brats, I’d be worshiping the ground you walk on.”
Steve gives Billy a look of outright awe.
Did Eddie lace this shit? Am I dreaming?
“Huh?”
“I rarely see you around without one of those nerdy little brats hanging off your jacket, so you clearly spend a lot of time helping them out and taking them places. They think it’s okay to treat you like crap just because they’ve read a few more books and gone to a few less parties? Dumbasses.”
“When I said you’re pretty when you cry, I mean your eyes get more intense. You have nice eyes for, like, a dude. I guess.”
Now it’s Billy’s turn to stare at Steve in shock.
He lights up the joint and takes a drag before passing it to Steve. “Thanks, Harrington. That’s kind of nice, in a weird way.”
“It’s already been established that I’m pretty weird.”
“And sweet.”
“What?”
“You’re sweet,” Billy reiterates, taking the joint back. “But you didn’t hear me say shit.”
“Course not,” Steve smiles. He’s really stoned; his head is full of cotton and he has the deep desire to reach out and touch Billy’s golden curls. “Hey, can I touch your hair?”
“Can I touch yours?”
“Yeah.”
“Then, sure.”
They each reach out with one hand. Billy tucks what he can behind Steve’s ears and Steve tugs gently at one of Billy’s ringlets only to watch it bounce back into place. Quietly, so quietly it’s barely audible, the older boy whispers: “What are we doing?”
Billy shrugs, fingers still tangled in loose brown locks. “Dunno. But I kinda like it.”
“Me, too.”
“Cool… Do you really think I’m pretty?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool.”
They watch the sun rise over the far edge of the quarry in silence, shoulders pressed tightly together. They’re almost sober again, and Steve isn’t sure if things will go back to the way they were yesterday or if this new sense of understanding is permanent. The tension in the air hasn’t returned and he’s terrified to think that it may.
He doesn’t want to lose this side of Billy.
“Hey, Hargrove…?”
“Yeah, pretty boy?”
“Are we– Does this mean we can stop being assholes to each other?” Steve asks.
Billy laughs, bright and loud and so fucking beautiful that Steve’s chest aches. His gorgeous blue eyes go squinty and thin as his smile grows, slivers of seafoam iris showing through. “Yeah, Harrington. I think we can figure out a way to be friends.”
Steve’s grin is unstoppable. Genuine. Something is stirring in his heart like an animal waking from hibernation.
“Cool.”
#harringrove#harringrove ficlet#anonswers#anon prompt fill#harringrove prompt fill#harringrove fluff#marijuana tw#billy hargrove#steve harrington#snark#flirting
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WIP Weekend
Thanks to @theartofblossoming for the tag!
Tagging fellow creatives (no obligations here either!): @druidgroves @fallout-new-mudkip @galaxycunt @just-another-wasteland-merc @maccreadysbaby @perfectlypreservedpie @sassenashsworld @sirmanmister @willinglyghoulified
As for me? My Dudes, she's been writing! (and procrastinating said writing by playing fo4 and making screenshots!)
So here's an update on MacBeth!
Been smoothing out the timeline! Trying to take my time to get the pacing right! [I'm excited because it's getting meaty and falling into place...it's getting chonky!!]
Coming up:
Enter Mayor MacCready (Sim Settlements 2 makes this a reality, btw!)
Mac's past as a Gunner comes back to bite him. (Featuring Quincy and Sunglasses)
A wee bit o romance to fix up (and bewilder) a lonesome merc
Mac steps up big-time (MM stuff, SS2 cast come in, and I love 'em!)
Some more angst (okay, most of it is probably angst.)
Winter is Coming...and it bringeth the Feral Hordes (I apologize in advance, Mac!)
Thar be an imposter among us...
Responsibility weighs heavily...Guilt be crippling!
(Oh look, this is roughly where I originally started this fic like a rookie!)
To follow: A bunch of other stuff I've been cooking up over the year (Expect Reunions, Lamplighters all grown up, more bad jokes, heartache, and (I hope) big reveals.)
For Now:
Here's a scene from an upcoming 3 chapter story arc.
Since Duncan was featured in my posts this week, I found myself revisiting the flashback that leads to the moment Mac makes the promise to his son. The full rewrite will now reveal the identity of 'The Stanger.'
The Promise
Awakening to Duncan’s demands for attention, he’s alone, and RJ bristles, the faint smell of newborn mingling with the antiseptic of the surgery overwhelming. After a minute of psyching himself up, he bundled the screeching infant into his arms and moved for the door, hoping to find some bleeding heart to ease his headache—he didn't get that far.
Goddammit, the little shit had to stop crying, didn’t he? Trying to ignore the feel of Duncan's small fingers curling around his, he shrugs off the comforting pull of the bundle of warmth in his shaking arms and cradles his son close, sinking back into the chair, the fingers on his free hand clinging to Lucy’s. It's the first moment of peace in days, a fleeting respite, and it’s too much. His steely exterior cracks, and the quiet, simmering tears spill over.
RJ cleared his throat as the airlock opened, and a nurse walked in—about dang time! She’s young and smiley. Her brown hair was neatly braided underneath a funny hat with a green cross. He wondered if Lucy would wear one if she became a nurse. "You okay, love?" She looked him over, sweetly, caring like—handing him a rag.
Oh, fuck off! He was not crying! "Yeah—Just the damn dust!" his nose wrinkled, and MacCready hoped his smile was convincing.
"You want to have a go, or shall I take him?" She held up a bottle.
"I can do it!" he said a little too enthusiastically. “I don't want him to start crying again. My head is already splitting."
He took the bottle she handed him—that stuff gets expensive. There was no point in letting it get cold, sitting and arguing about it.
"Need me to show you?" the nurse said with a hand on her hip and a smug glint in her eye.
She probably thought he'd need help because he's a guy or something—he was feeding his son to spite her! "I can manage...thanks," he grumbled. "Not my first time feeding a Little.”
He hated himself for smiling at how Duncan enthusiastically gripped that bottle. He was supposed to be angry at him, but as he suckled the bottle, RJ looked—really looked at him, those warm browns blinking back—the little bastard, that was all it took.
"Kid has her eyes," RJ sputtered, wiping his nose. "Damn, dust—don't you guys have cleaning robots around here?"
He accepted the rag this time, laughing through the tears seeping through. The nurse gave his shoulder a light squeeze and a knowing look, and she grinned all toothy at him before disappearing back through the airlock.
"You see how she looked at us, kid?" he scoffed, brows pinching as he wiped the tears from his face.
"You know, I bet your mumma is gonna freak the fu–agh—" MacCready furrowed his brows as he looked over the innocent bundle in his arms. "Freak the frick out when she meets you." The stranger's voice was a dull drone, a gnawing Rad Rat in the back of his mind.
"I didn't mean to yell at you, a'right?" his head shook, smiling. “She is the one that keeps me level-headed. She'd kick my ass—for fuck…nope....uh-uh—"
MacCready cleared his throat, steeling himself before continuing. "She'd beat my butt if she heard me talk to you like that. So, how about we don't tell her, huh? Do you promise to keep this between us, two MacCready boys?
Duncan fidgeted through his swaddle. Big eyes focused on him. "Yeah?" MacCready chuckled, playing with his son's feet beneath the blanket. "Then, I promise to get my shit–oh, for fuck sake!" he took another deep breath that exhaled as a laugh.
"Maybe I should start with a swear jar..."
#Who else writes a ton of stuff and hates filling in the gaps?#fallout 4#fallout maccready#fo4#fallout fanfic#fallout WIP#writing wip#wip weekend#wip tag#fallout companions
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CHARACTERS: Mikala Seabrooke, various NPCs.
THEMES: Mikala's experiences in the military and all of the extremely undiagnosed PTSD we (A.K.A. he) doesn't talk about as a result of his time serving.
CONTENT WARNINGS: War, injury, near death experience, death, gore, guns, slightly sexually suggestive themes, etc.
This clipping from the paper shows us young and strong and clean;
And there's me, in my slouch hat, with my SLR and greens.
God help me, I was only nineteen.
1983. Freshly eighteen and out of high school with the world as his oyster. He throws it all away, much to the pleading of his lonesome mother.
"Are you sure you want to do this, Mikala?" As a frail hand smooths out the shoulders of his brand new uniform, as if trying to make it—him—pristine. Just behind him, his brothers sit in urns on the fireplace, displayed neatly with their respective medals.
"It's too late now, makuahine," he murmurs back, with a tender smile towards his mother. A smile untouched by death, cruelty, time. The tears in her eyes are ignored.
And can you tell me, doctor, why I still can't get to sleep?
And night time's just a jungle dark and a barking M16?
And what's this rash that comes and goes?
Can you tell me what it means?
God help me, I was only nineteen.
1984. The floor of the forest is hot, it's too goddamn hot, yet he feels cold all over. The type of chill that digs deep into your bones. He's fading in and out of consciousness as the medic does their damnedest to put him back together again.
The blast of an M16 rifle is a brutal one. There is no entrance or exit wound, only a smashed and dented armor plate tossed to the side. His ribs are broken, badly enough that they've penetrated and ruptured his spleen. His lung is missed by mere centimeters. He supposes he's lucky.
"Stick with me, man," he thinks he hears. It makes him angry. He's goddamn angry at this person saving his life. He's angrier at the pain he's in, the sharp cry he lets out when his torso is splayed the fuck apart with a scalpel, and he thinks vomit and blood comes up with the pained noise.
His head is tilted sideways by the soldier at his side so he doesn't fucking choke on it. He supposes he's lucky.
A four-week operation when each step can mean your last one on two legs;
It was a war within yourself.
But you wouldn't let your mates down 'til they had you dusted off,
So you closed your eyes and thought about somethin' else.
1985. Back in the game after a forced sabbatical of sorts, only without a spleen, which he learned back in '84 that you can live without one of those. He had asked what that meant for him long-term and, as it turns out, not much. Except, he gets sick a lot easier lately because his immune system is compromised now, and he's informed to keep an eye on his iron for worry of anemia.
Gunfire and calamity have ceased, if only for now, but he's so far removed from it and his companions currently. Soon, his superiors will look for him. For now, he is staring at the growing puddle of blood beneath him and his victim.
They're deceased by now. He's learned that the human body has its limits but, by God, it takes quite some time to get there. He has what he wanted, more than that, and now he will set the scene to his liking. Like he was never there.
All is forgiven when he delivers pertinent information to his superiors the day after. When he closes his eyes and lets his mind drift to fresh memories of his acts, tainted by viscera and malice, he sleeps better than he has in months.
And then someone yelled out "Contact, front!" and the bloke behind me swore;
We hooked in there for hours, then a God-almighty roar.
Frankie kicked a mine the day that mankind kicked the moon;
God help me, he was going home in June.
1988. He's laughing. He's fucking laughing, and it's earnest, and it's tender. He has his shirt lifted up, exposing the scar along his abdomen to his battle buddy. When a finger trails down it, the muscles beneath ripple and tense, and he swears to no deity in particular that it sets his skin alight.
Eyes lock for a lengthy amount of time. There's a darkness in his own, and a kindness in the other's. A man of his age, both having served for the same amount of time, and yet only he is tainted by it all; driven by bloodlust.
Lips meet. Lips, and tongue, and teeth. In the shelter of darkness, they may touch. They may be themselves, unapologetically and wholeheartedly.
By the end of this carnal meeting between two lonely men, his hands are trembling as he laces his boots.
A week afterwards, he watches his battle buddy misstep. He watches the mist of blood, and guts, and limbs, with a void in his eyes. Why are there so many fucking limbs?
He doesn't look away because he isn't weak. He isn't a fucking coward, unlike many of the shell-shocked men around him. Another week passes, and he sends a letter to the man's family, apologizing for their loss.
And the Anzac legends didn't mention mud and blood and tears;
And stories that my father told me never seemed quite real.
I caught some pieces in my back that I didn't even feel.
God help me, I was only nineteen.
1989. It's the beginning of spring and while he doesn't celebrate his birthday, it's around the corner, and his mother made damn sure that a letter and a gift would get to him in time. It came early.
Beneath her letter, one from his father. His estranged father who never cared before. In this letter, there are details of this stranger's own stories in the military. Something heartfelt about regret, and being proud of his son, and whatever else that he feels nothing while reading.
Just before he writes a 'thank you' note to his mother, cold and curt, he tosses the letter his father sent into the nearest garbage bin.
When he comes back home to New York City, he's arrested within the month. He doesn't fight for man's freedom this time but rather, his own.
And can you tell me, doctor, why I still can't get to sleep?
And why the Channel Seven chopper chills me to my feet?
And what's this rash that comes and goes?
Can you tell me what it means?
God help me, I was only nineteen.
2021. Just as retirement came, so did the latest and greatest illness to take over his body. He has spent the last week reading, mostly, alongside tying up loose ends with his business.
The funeral home has been sold by now. Dead and gone, as are many things in his life. He's neither excited nor sad about it. He feels little of anything, really, about what is merely an end. Except, his hands are a little more idle and, in his attempts to hide how ill he is from a spider bite of all things, he focuses on the finishing details of closing out this chapter.
It's all stacks of books, and paperwork, and why is the television so damn loud? He snatches the remote and clicks it off as the news channel drones on and on about the newest tragedy. The newest war.
It looks like annoyance, and it is, mostly. Even in solitude, he doesn't show weakness. Instead, he continues oscillating between working and reading in silence, until his headache becomes too much and the itch where the bite is gets on his last nerves.
Eventually, this and the growing nausea put him down for a nap until his husband gets home. Then, he will continue to act as if all is well, all is normal. Stoic to a fault, he always is.
#〈 🩸 — ; isms. 〉#do u ever listen to songs abt war on repeat for multiple hours and then a self para happens#the format of this got a lil fucked b/c tumblr sucks but w/e
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👇🏼 crazy to think i felt oddly attracted to that comic the first time i saw it years ago and it still holds up hm? hits even harder, even
life feels unfair as hell but it never feels like it's bad "enough" to be worth crying about, life has been difficult and hard to navigate and so alienating and lonesome but never felt like my tears were valid, i look at other people who have it worse and i feel like i have it so much better and i ought to just suck it up. the worst things that happen to other people have not happened to me, i have lived a fairly good life, my family's never physically or sexually or emotionally abused me, they've always told me they love me, ive never experienced any life threatening accidents or traumatic events, poverty, abuse, grief/death of a beloved, the list goes on. most my issues stem from disability but no one has treated me badly *for* it and my parents tried hard, so hard, to get me treatment. no one hurt me. i should be perfectly fine yeah?
i have it soooo good but im still big mad and it still feels unfair. most of my life has been bizarre enough that--- with things like abuse and homelessness or etc these are well documented and studied across human history and we know enough of it to know it's bad and comfort each other about the hardships and trauma it comes with but the only time ive heard of someone go through what i did was this book about my disorder. that one (1) person.
and even then they seemed to, get treatment for it and move on, i didn't, im still like this.i have not found anyone to talk to who'd understand.
i don't know. life is difficult, yet i have never met someone else struggling the same way i did who's told me that is fucked up. do you get it? i don't know if me crying is warranted or if it's the crying of a small child over ice cream hitting the pavement. no one has been here to tell me. im too hurt for normal people and too well off for hurt people.
maybe the fact i can't even get my point across is part of all this. im just absolutely clueless. is this unorthodox upbringing simple variation, or is it something not good? my life doesn't fit into a neat categorical box and it's driving me nuts. how should i feel about it? is it okay to feel the way i do? despite everyone else having it far worse?
#v#warnin for passing abuse mention#i shoudl go to bed. please block the v tag of you dont wanna see this btw LOL#i just need to get stuff off my chest saur bad but it is cruel to force it upon others without ability to#opt out
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I swear I ain’t in it for the money, but I can’t stop thinking about sugar daddy shoto. Maybe he sweeps a cute little college kid or barista of their feet, just something fun and casual. But this man starts falling harder, needing a way to lock them down to him. Money isn’t quite cutting it anymore, so he decides fucking a baby into her would do the trick. Shoto would push her down into the mattress, large frame twisting her into a sweet mating press. This way they could stay together forever and Shoto would have absolutely no problem providing for his sweet family <3
but fr tho I feel like Shouto is NOT the type for kids.
Mans will tolerate them when they babble or wave at him, but he very actively Does Not Want them.
Always uses condoms, and even though he’ll threaten not to, it’s never a legit thought in his mind to cum inside. Shouto doesn’t want to be a dad.
-----
You’ll be sittin on a park bench, fading sunset dark and pretty in front of you yet all you can do is cry. There’s not really any people around so it’s not like you’re bothering anyone - you hadn’t wanted to cry in your shabby apartment (half the cause of your worries) just in case you received a noise complaint.
“Are you alright?”
A somber, smooth voice is heard. You’re swiping at your tears quickly as you look up, trying to laugh off your state of distress. “Oh, haha, yeah I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” It’s hard to smile with your puffy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.
The man in front of you frowns, hands in his coat pockets, scarf draped around his neck. “You don’t look fine. Mind if I sit?”
He’s already claiming the spot next to you on the bench before you can say a word, turning to you with a passive expression. “Why are you crying?”
And that’s all it takes to have you breaking down all over again, tears streaming down your face. Just one person offering to listen to the heavy burden you have to bear.
‘’M sor-sorry...” You sob, wiping at your eyes with frigid fingers, successful in doing nothing more but smearing tears around your face.
“Here.” The man’s taking off his scarf, gloved hands offering it you.
“I ca-can’t use your sc-scarf sir.” But he’s insistent, pressing it into your hands up by your face.
“I’ll just get another one. Keep it, you’re in need of it more than I am.”
The kindness makes another fresh bout of tears roll down your cheeks, but this time you're able to dab them away with soft fabric as you sniffle.
It takes a moment for you to calm yourself. When you do, you can finally engage in conversation with the man.
You tell him about your job hours getting cut, how you’ve been turned down or ignored by every single place you’ve applied at for a second job. How you’re barely affording to wash your clothes - you have to hang them or drape them across things in your apartment because you don’t have the money to pay for a dryer cycle.
And to top it all off, you’re still short on rent, despite how you scrimped and saved and even forced yourself not to buy groceries this week - you’ve gone hungry for the past three days.
“You haven’t eaten?”
You glance up at the man and his incredulous expression, shaking your head. “I’ve been trying to save money, I thought I could afford my rent if-”
“What kind of food do you like?” The man is pulling out his phone, swiping and tapping immediately.
“Thank you, but I’m not-” looking for charity is what you want to say. Plus, you shouldn’t accept favors from strange men.
But the handsome man is waving you silent. “I’m cold, plus I’d like to grab a bite to eat before I head home. I don’t like eating alone though, you’d honestly be doing me a favor.”
You take a moment to process. Is he telling the truth? He sounds like an honest guy.
“Seems like the only place open around here is “Joe’s 24 hour Diner”.... You mind burgers?”
So that's how you end up in a booth opposite the man (”Shouto” he had told you as you both headed to the diner), munching away at warm food. It tastes so good, you hardly have time to worry about the man watching you as he eats.
You’d been shocked at his looks the moment you’d seen him in the light of the diner. Pretty two-toned hair, different colored eyes, perfect skin, expensive clothes. Why was he even talking to you? It’s obvious the two of you led very different lives.
“How does everything taste?”
“Delicious.” Is your response, and Shouto seems pleased, nodding before taking another bite of his meal.
Maybe it’s stupid... but you feel weirdly safe with this man. He doesn’t seem to bear any ill-intent towards you, nor has he made any comments about your body or let his hands or eyes stray. He seems like a gentleman.
Conversation flows easily between the two of you, even sharing a few chuckles at times. He’s some fancy rich businessman, you learn, and you share about your own life, laughing at the comparisons. Shouto can’t fathom growing up in a house with less than five bedrooms and a personal servant.
He asks for your number, and you’re hesitant in giving it - he surely can’t be interested in you? But he seems so sincere, it’s hard to say no.
When the two of you part ways, Shouto gives you a wave, “Hope to see you again soon, and under better circumstances.”
“You too! And sorry for being such a mess and stopping your walk-”
Shouto shrugs, cheeks beginning to pink from the cold air as you two stand outside the diner. “You needed help. I like to assist.”
-----
The next morning you wake to find an atrociously large sum deposited in your Venmo account by none other than a Shouto Todoroki.
Immediately, you’re calling him. “It’s too much, we just met. How can you give away that much money to some low-life?”
You hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. “You’re obviously struggling. I was wondering what your hours are this week, perhaps we could talk about this over dinner? Or lunch, if that fits better with your schedule. I’m flexible.”
It’s a few days later, days spent questioning yourself, questioning his intentions, before you see him again, both of you deciding to meet for lunch to further discuss... whatever had just happened.
“Was what I gave you adequate to cover your rent?” Are the first words out of Shouto’s mouth after you greet each other.
“Yeah, more than enough-” You squirm. “But I need to ask.... why?”
“Why?”
“Why me.”
“Oh.” Shouto’s expression clears. “That’s easy. I told you a few days ago - I like to assist. I’m quite lonely, and it feels nice to use my money on someone other than myself. I think providing for someone brings me... I wouldn’t quite say joy, but... contentment.”
You contemplate his answer for a moment.
“Well... you saved me with my rent, I don’t really know how to thank you.”
The man leans forward. “Well.... I know it might be a bit sudden, but how would you feel accepting me as a.... benefactor of sorts?”
“You mean like a sugar daddy?” Is your immediate, blurted response. You want to slap yourself for speaking before you have the chance to think about your words, but luckily Shouto just lets out a light laugh.
“If you’d like to call it that. I’m willing to provide financial assistance for you, in exchange for companionship, if you’re willing to give it.”
Your face heats up as you drop your eyes, fidgeting nervously in your seat. “I don’t feel comfortable with a... a sexual relationshi-”
“That’s perfectly acceptable.” Shouto cuts you off before you can continue. “I wasn’t trying to insinuate a contract of that nature. I’m thinking more along the lines of accompanying me at meals, sharing experiences with me, providing company and friendship to a lonely man. If it seems that we’d like to progress further than that after we get to know each other, well, that will be addressed then. For now-” Shouto meets your eye, dipping his head a smidgeon so he can look at you directly. “All I ask for is a simple, non-intimate bond between two people.”
This is crazy.
And yet you accept.
The situation may be wild, and completely absurd, but you’d be a fool not to say yes.
Shouto is charming and handsome, respectful, courteous - you could go on and on about his positive qualities. He just seems like a sad, lonesome man swallowed by work and responsibilities, too stressed and busy to put the effort into making friends the conventional way.
-----
Months pass by.
You’re eating at every meal, sated and never going hungry. You’re able to move into a new place, one that doesn’t smell like cigarettes and sits right next to a railroad.
Clothes aren’t a worry anymore, you have your own washer and dryer in your new apartment (Shouto offered to buy you a house, or a penthouse at the least, but you couldn’t justify it to yourself). You’re able to afford new things, and pretty dresses, shoes that are comfortable and fashionable and that fit.
You no longer have to wear clothes down until they have holes in them. You’re able to go to the doctor’s when you feel sick, able to pay for health insurance.
Life is good.
Shouto is a personable man, serious, but he can be rather funny and even crude at times.
The doubt and thoughts of “Why is he doing this for me?” and “I’m not good enough for this.” plague you, but Shouto always seems to catch on, reassuring you that you’re exactly what he needs - a friend.
And you’re more than happy to be that.
You think sometimes, that even if he wasn’t paying you, you’d still like to be friends with Shouto Todoroki.
Until he starts acting weird.
“You should just stay at my place. I have more than enough room,, it’d be easier for both our schedules. We’d get to see each other more often.”
“Uhm...” You don’t really know what to say. You like your freedom, and having your own place where you can walk around in your (expensive) underwear without being bothered.
“I think it’d be nice, don’t you? We could have breakfast every morning, you wouldn’t have to worry about traveling to and fro, we could spend more time together. We don’t see each other nearly enough.”
He’s pushing, insistent. How are you supposed to tell him no? He’s paying for your entire life. Plus, it wouldn’t be that bad to actually live with him. Shouto’s an amicable man.
So you move in.
“I bought you a few things, they’re on your bed.”
Shouto’s striding into the kitchen where you’re making coffee, buttoning up his shirt as he comes closer. You’ve found that the man likes to sleep in nothing but boxers, shrieking and flushing an embarrassing shade the first time he’d come to wake you up with a sweet “welcome” breakfast in bed.
It’s taken a while to adjust, but you finally feel that you’re fully settled in.
“Oh, you really don’t ha-”
“I wanted to. I went through your closet - your clothes are nice, but your underwear seemed to be lacking.” He’s so matter-of-fact.
All you can do is stare at the back of his head.
“Could you pass me a spoon please?”
-----
Shouto had splurged on expensive, fancy lingerie.
At least eight different sets were laid out on your bed. It was overwhelming. It also felt.... a bit intrusive? They were all in your size, in a complementary color for your skin tone.
Weird.
Not as weird as the onset of Shouto’s casual touches.
You’d be reading, or drinking tea and watching cars race by on the street so far below, and Shouto would come up behind you, caress your sides before intertwining his fingers with yours on one hand. He did it as if it was a normal thing, but it felt anything but normal.
Or you’d be on the couch together, and Shouto would shuffle closer until his large body was pressed to yours, almost curled around you. The faux-cuddling was a bit more off putting. How do you tell him no?
The touches became more and more intimate, Shouto’s gifts more and more frequent until you weren’t even spending a penny, the man taking care of everything.
The arrangement was beginning to make you uncomfortable.
Shouto’s bi-colored eyes seemed to always be on you, tracing the shape of your body, watching you move, or breath, or sit. It was distracting, and you felt bad for feeling this way towards the man who’d pulled you out of poverty, but it was so unnerving.
He seemed to notice.
“You’ve been so stressed these past few days. Is something wrong?” Shouto’s rubbing a hand into your shoulder, hovering over you at the dinner table.
“No?” Is all you can manage, wiping your hands on your napkin as you finish your food.
Shouto frowns. With a sigh, his hand drops from your shoulder and the man leaves your side, heads toward the kitchen.
You clear your plate from the table, following after him so you can wash it and put it in the dishwasher before you head off to get ready for bed.
But Shouto is rummaging in a cupboard, pulling down two wine glasses to accompany the bottle of wine that’s standing proud on the island. It’s your favorite, a sweet wine that Shouto knows you like, always brings it out when he decides to drink whisky or bourbon after dinner.
He pops the cork and pours you a glass while you finish with your dishes, handing you the glass when you turn away from the sink, pressing it into your hands. “Let’s relax a little bit, it’ll be good for both of us.”
You’re fine with that, knowing that a little wine won’t hurt you, especially when it’s of such fine quality. You’d never dreamed that you’d be able to taste such richness in your lifetime, spend frivolous amounts of money on wine and fine eateries. Yet here you are.
Shouto pours himself a glass, barely a sip filling the bottom. The man raises it to his lips and takes a swig, grimacing a bit in his flat, unexpressive way. You giggle a little.
“Too sweet?’
The man nods, setting the glass back down. “I’m not entirely sure how you can stand to stomach it. But if it makes you happy-” He shrugs, before pulling on of the bar-stools out from under the island so he can sit facing you, long legs stretching out before him.
You look at him, and he looks at you, and then you take another sip of wine to avoid the awkwardness.
“You’re distancing yourself from me.”
The accusation is quiet, Shouto’s eyes focused on your fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass.
He’s always been straightforward with his words. “Is there a reason you keep drawing away?”
The wine disappears from your glass, sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You fill your glass again before speaking, struggling to find the right words without upsetting your... benefactor.
“Well, Shouto... I don’t really know how to...” You trail off, hoping Shouto will say something, change the subject, say it’s alright and move on to something else.
But the man stays silent, eyes appraising you.
Taking a deep breath, and another gulp of sweetness, you try again.
“Sometimes the closeness... like, physical closeness? Makes me, well, uncomfortable.”
Hopefully, that would satisfy his curiosity for now. That wasn’t the only reason you’d been avoiding Shouto seeming distant, but you didn’t think sharing the others would result in anything good.
Said man accepted your response, dropping his eyes to his lap as he mulled it over. More wine was consumed, glass re-filled. You felt nervous.
“You’re saying that my touch isn’t something you’d prefer.”
Biting your lip, you soften at his confused expression, at the hint of sadness swimming behind his eyes. “Kind of. I don’t mind you Shouto, you’re really kind, and you’re good company, and a wonderful friend. I just don’t think the.... the intimacy is for me.”
Shouto raises his head, stares at you with those pretty eyes, lips parted as he comes to terms with your words.
“It sounds like you don’t trust me. I would never hurt you, you know this.”
You scramble to assure him. “I do! I do trust you, and I know you wouldn’t.” (at least you hoped) “But I guess I just... Coming into this agreement I wasn’t ready for that type of... thing. I don’t know if I ever will be.”
The man rises, shakes his head as he steps closer to you. “Don’t worry, I remember our first conversation about that aspect. I see that for you, that type of relationship would only begin after you really cared for the other person, trusted and wanted to see them happy, am I correct?”
“Oh, Shouto-” You rush. “No, I care for you, and I trust you, and of course I want to see you happy. I think it’s just, y’know, my last relationship like that went really bad, and it sucked. I don’t want to go through that again.”
Shouto nods, understanding. “I see. You don’t have to worry about any of that with me then.”
A smile crosses your face, and you feel relived that he accepted your rejection with grace and understanding instead of violence or anger. “Thank you, it means a lot to me.”
The mood of the room shifted, from tense and uncomfortable, to easy and light, and you poured another glass of wine, laughing a little at how worried you were about the conversation with Shouto, only for it all to turn out fine.
“I’m going to go drink some of the liquor that’s kept in my room. I could mix a few drinks for you to try, you might like how sweet they are. I know hard alcohol isn’t quite your thing.”
You beam a smile, nodding your head eagerly. Before, you’d feel apprehensive about going into his room with him to drink alcohol. But with the conversation the two of you just had, you knew - things would be fine.
-----
The room was spinning and you felt giddy and light. You were definitely tipsy.
“You can lay down on my bed, you’re getting wobbly on your feet.” Shouto had offered, and you’d gladly accepted, flopping down onto his comfy bedspread with a laugh at how the motion made butterflies rise in your tummy.
Shouto leaned against his dresser, swirling whiskey in his glass as he watched you, a half-smile across his face. You smiled back, before closing your eyes, a little bit tired as you realized that you might be a bit more than just tipsy.
Shouto had mixed quite a few drinks for you, and you’d drank each one eagerly, impressed with how little alcohol you could taste in each one. You don’t remember how many you had, but it didn’t really matter.
The next thing you know, hands are on your waist, scooting you further up the bed so your legs no longer hang off the edge. Cracking open an eye, you’re met with the visage of red-and-white, eyes soft and warm as they regard you, Shouto’s face tinged a bit pink from the few drinks he had consumed. The man had never been too good at holding his alcohol.
When those hands started to slip beneath your shirt, you wiggled like a little worm, not really comprehending the situation. Maybe it was a dream.
Your shirt was discarded, then your pants. It felt much more comfortable now, and you mumbled a “thanks” to the man helping you settle for bed. He was so nice, Shouto took such good care of you. You still kind of couldn’t believe the turn your life had taken with him, the good luck pushed into your path.
Someone was kissing you.
With a grunt of surprise, you kissed them back, meeting their feverish pace and trying to keep up, soft lips puckering and pushing against your own with intent. Kissing felt good. You liked kissing.
Then a hand was cupping your face, stroking tenderly over your cheek before it began sliding down, down your neck, into the valley between your breasts, trailing over your bra. It felt funny.
Pushing back for air, you gasped when the hand on your chest started squeezing at you, eyes flying open with the startling, sudden sensation.
Shouto was hovering over you, lips puffy, panting as he stared at you with lusty eyes, an uncharacteristic look on his face. This... this wasn’t supposed to be like this. You knew. Hadn’t the two of you just talked about something... important? Was it important?
You didn’t feel panic until a hand cupped your sex, feeling your skin through your panties.
This wasn’t right.
Alarm bells were ringing, dull and far away, but you didn’t think that Shouto should be touching you in such a way. you should be going to bed.
“Mm, Sho, can you stop?” But your words felt funny on your tongue, and Shouto didn’t stop. Maybe he didn’t hear you.
His hair tickled your chin as the man bent to mouth at your tits, pulling the cups of your bra underneath them so he could feel your hot skin, let his saliva drag slick and wet against your chest.
Your hands instinctively rooted themselves in his hair as you gasped again, not expecting such a move, tugging lightly at his head to pull him up. Shouto just groaned, teething gently at your breasts and not moving an inch. His hips were grinding against the bed though, as he stood between your spread legs.
Before you knew it, your panties were gone, bra clumsily unclasped and discarded, and you were completely bare. Shouto was undressing before you, struggling with the buttons on his shirt before giving up, easily ripping the fabric of his body with one tug, grumbling.
You didn’t feel so tipsy anymore.
“Shouto, what’re we doing? We shouldn’t be doing this, we need to stop-”
“Stay down.” Was his firm command, a hand splayed across your naked chest and pushing you back into the mattress as you tried to sit up. It made you breathless, the growl in his voice, the dominance emanating from the man. You stayed still.
“This’s gonna make us a stronger couple.” The man slurred, eyes dark and hands wandering, effortlessly keeping you pinned against the bed as he ground his hips forward against the edge. You were getting scared.
“Wait-”
You fell silent as one hand pushed down his pants, his underwear going with them, pink cock bobbing free. He was so pretty down there, and it made sense, all of him was pretty, but you suddenly realized the weight of the situation, what was happening.
“Shouto, no, oh my god. We gotta stop right now, we’re drunk, we’re-we’re-”
“Don’t care. Not gonna let you hide away from me this time.” Shouto shook his head, taking his cock in one hand and giving it a long, slow pump, flushed tip weeping precum and wetting his hand.
“No, no, this is wrong. I don’t want this, I could get pregnant!” You cried, beginning to panic for real, pushing against the one strong hand anchoring you to the bed.
Shouto just chuckled, letting go of his cock to crowd against you, getting up in your face to press a wet finger to your lips, the salty taste of his precum threatening to slip into your mouth unless you kept it shut. “Shhh, shh. If you stay nice and still, if you do what I say, I’ll use a condom.”
You couldn’t believe your ears.
“You’re gonna listen to me, you always do.” The man nodded to himself, once again dragging his cock against the bed between your legs, as if he couldn’t stop himself. “Or else I’ll fuck you raw.” The finger was pulled from your lips, only to be wagged teasingly in your face.
You couldn’t believe how he was acting.
“Be nice.”
Shouto tapped your nose with a neatly manicured finger, before groaning as he heaved himself upright, red cock bobbing against his stomach, desperate for attention. The man gave you a look, as if to say “don’t move” before he took his hands off you, heading for his dresser.
Once you saw him pulling out a strip of condoms, you were on your feet, stumbling toward the door.
Although panic had sobered you somewhat, you were still struggling with the effects of the alcohol, so your reaction time was maddeningly slow. Slow enough that you weren’t able to truly fight against Shouto when he grabbed you from behind toned arms wrapping around your middle and heaving you into the air, only to throw you back on his bed.
You were almost sick on the bedspread, world spinning and stomach protesting, but you were able to calm yourself.
But then Shouto was on you, flipping you onto your back, a soft hand pressing against your throat threateningly.
“You want to have a baby? Want me to cum in you so you’ll get all fat with kids? Hm?” He was so intense, almost choking you, straddling your waist and keeping you pinned. It was too much
You were able to manage a tearful, desperate “No!” despite the hand around your throat, and Shouto backed off, releasing the pressure to instead stroke his hand against the sides of your neck.
“Stop acting like this, it’s the next logical step for us. You said you cared for me, wanna make me happy. This’ll make me happy. I won’t be like the last guy.”
His cock was pressed against your stomach, and you could feel it twitching. Shouto clambered off of you, letting go of your neck so he could grab the condoms he’d tossed on the bed before snatching you up.
“Do what I say and I use these.” He waved them in your face before tearing one off, beginning to open it.
You stayed still, gazing at him blearily, limbs feeling fuzzy, mind feeling the same.
The condom was rolled onto Shouto’s cock, the man spitting into his palm and giving the latex a few rubs to make it slick before reaching for you.
He dragged you to the edge of the bed - the perfect height for him to fuck you - and you didn’t fight, terrified of his threat. You couldn’t stand the thought of a baby.
(You didn’t know, but neither could he)
“Wanted to do this since I met you.” Shouto mumbled, pushing your panties to the side with a few fingers so he could guide his tip to your hole. “Want you so bad.”
You didn’t know what to think of this side of Shouto. This unreserved, uncareful, slurring mess of a man that loomed before you, gaze dark and wild, limbs everywhere as he groped and squeezed and appreciate the shape of your body.
But he must’ve gotten impatient, because then he was pushing inside.
It hurt, stinging pain rippling up your back and you keened, causing Shouto to pause. One of his hands darted down to wrap around your calf, hauling it up on the bed so he could lean forward and press it to you chest, sinking his cock a few inches deeper.
“You’re gonna take it.” He hissed before messily kissing you, pressed so close together that it was hard to breathe. “I’ll make it feel good after you do.”
#shouto#shouto todoroki#todoroki shouto#bnha shouto#yandere shouto#shouto x you#yandere#Yandere bnha#Yandere mha#sugar daddy lol#sugar daddy shouto#Shouto smut#Yandere shoto#shoto todoroki#todoroki shoto#Shoto smut#tw.noncon#tw.dubcon#tw.coercion#tw.manipulation#tw.abuse of power#tw.abuse of trust
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Gojo Satoru
↠ Pairing: Gojou Satoru x F!Reader
↠ Warning: bby gojo having heavy thoughts and sadness after everything. (pls hug) angst to fluff.
↠ a/n: ironically, his name is the title for this xD also thank you so much for the love from my recent works o(^▽^)o♡ have my love too!
↬ Word Count: 1.9k
Everyone has their beginnings. While some were blessed to start out life with good fortune and the right path, there were some who struggled through their way in living. For Gojo? He didn't really care. Not when he was already being worshipped for being born in this world, not when as a child he had barely lifted a finger before his life was already planned out for him. It was as if he was simply taking the red carpet to luxury. He already has everything. Truly, he claimed, he was indeed the honored one.
He wasn't one to be wary of his own feelings. What was there to be thought about if he doesn't know what are these stuff running through his head? Not that he should give a single mind to it.
But as he sat down at the tub of his bathroom— tweezers between his fingers, one at a time he plucks out the small shards of glass that had dug themselves onto his skin from the previous mission he was sent on solo, he started to wonder why he was staring blankly at the crimson liquid trailing down his damaged skin. Why did he felt so empty?
Maybe if Shoko were around to patch him up, he would've have had someone to pester for the day. Maybe he wouldn't have gone home to the lonesome apartment he owns, hissing at the pain from each shard taken out of his body.
Pain
That was strange. He never experienced that. Not even when he's in battle with the strongest forms of curses. No matter how many gashes of wounds he's collected, they always heal themselves quickly. It was unfamiliar that it began to frustrate him. He doesn't like it. Not one bit. It hurts. It hurts so much, yet why was there still something making his heart clench?
Loneliness. Abandonment. Broken.
Gojo was a fool for losing the only person that has come close to understanding him. If only he understood what Geto was going through; if he knew what the hell were all those troubles and emotions were maybe he would've still had his only best friend here with him. But no. It slowly came crashing down on Gojo's eyes that though he was the honored one,
He was the lost one.
A broken soul being held by strings as he was only guided to follow along the path that was planned out for him, but never what he planned for himself.
Why was he remembering all of these now? It had been years after the downfall. He should've moved on from it, be the usual cherry top, annoying idiot he was to his students and colleagues. God, he hates this. Falling, falling, falling.
Only the weak fall
Was a statement drilled into his system right from the start. The never ending worship that has earned him the title of being the "strongest" was what he kept pursuing. Believing.
Was the Gojo Satoru at his weakest point?
"Fuck." the unusually large shard of glass falls on the tiled floor, removed from the left side of his chest. Near to the scar that trails from the base of his throat and down to his navel; the reminder of why he shouldn't be left vulnerable at any cost. The hideous flaw that will forever be marked on his body, the one he desperately hides behind those prideful remarks and grinning faces. It saddens him, it hurts him, it angers him. It makes himself lose his own sanity.
The stinging started to kick in on his chest, no longer can he tell if it was from the wound or the clenching of his heart. He was strong, he was suppose and always will be strong. "Why?" the tub cracks from his grip. His free hand coming up to his eyes, eyes that people loved enough to fall in a trance— enemies crumbling and begging for mercy upon them.
Gojo felt ashamed.
Shameful. He grits his teeth hard when the small trickle of the uncharacteristic tear falls from the heavenly eye. It falls down to the porcelain surface, mixing with the trail of blood that was slowly draining down, "Why?" he finally looks down at the fatal wound, attempting to stop the bleeding with his bare hands pushing his chest. The blood smearing all over his upper body, shading the past scar that it made it look like it was there again.
"Why?"
Gojo speaks a little louder, sweating profusely as the dam inside him broke. Like an endless waterfall it was the tears fall. It made him sick. This was all not him. This wasn't the known shaman in the jujutsu world. This wasn't the boy raised from the family of the strongest. This wasn't the strongest.
"Stop."
This wasn't any of him.
"Make it stop."
Then who was he?
"Please, make it stop."
"Satoru?"
Entire body freezing. It was the first time he felt fear rushing through his veins; the fear of being seen like this. It wasn't because he didn't trust you. Good gracious, you were the last and only person Gojo ever holds onto after the years being glued together by faith and his attempts of flirting. No, he didn't want you to see this unknown person that was sitting in the bathroom of your shared apartment. Right, he forgot he was living with you.
Huh, he forgot. You were there.
There knelt down to his level, wide eyes meeting the now visible broken ones that was glossy with tears. With careful movements you raised an arm to eye level, pleading silently for permission to touch him. And for the time, Gojo was actually wary. He's faced a lot in the years spent as a sorcerer, as the strongest. Never the weakest. So when your lips curled into the same smile you'd give him during your moments of vulnerability. The cute, little curve you give when you couldn't help but just admire him or when you're about to utter out his 3 favorite words, he finds himself leaning forward to rest his cheek against the warmth of your palm. He allows the pestering tears to fall omly to be caught with your thumbs, shooing them away from his features.
"Let's get you cleaned up."
When your hand pulls away for a short moment, Gojo silently whines at the lost of contact. The tightness in his chest coming back. The feeling of abandonment crosses his head for a second before you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, holding up the tweezers he had dropped a while ago, "I'm here now."
I'm here now
That was his line. His line for when there was someone in need of help. The line that shimmers hope on the darkest moments of anyone's life. The line of the strongest. The ones who were only truly honored of saying.
Hope. It had a different form today. One that was right in front of him, plucking out every leftover shard on his body with gentleness he never got to witness as a child. The soft cooes and from time to time kisses on his scalp made his senses more focused on there rather than the stinging sensations running through his skin. Exactly how people react when there is hope.
And where there is hope,
"I love you, Satoru."
There is love.
Warm water from the shower cap started pouring down to his tensed muscles, washing out the combined dirt and blood away from him, cleansing his own form of curses that has shaken up his being. When did you finish patching him up? And why wasn't it as painful as it was when he did it?
He watches you move the small container that reeked of the scent of his blood and that inflicted his injuries far from his sight. Immediately, Gojo felt empty once more and was about to call you when you came back holding fresh towels on your hands. "Do you want me to join you?" he couldn't say yes faster than ever, almost as if he was relieved when you offered.
When you had finally stripped yourself off of your clothes and settled in between his long legs, there was nothing but the sound of the shower on echoing in the room with the two of you just staring back to one another.
Too good to be true, you were.
Gojo wanted to speak. Wanted to tell you how thankful he is that you were here to pull him away. To save his life, but all he could do was stare back into the void that of before. He sees the way your hands map around his torso in attempt to rinse him completely. Coming in contact with the old and new scar, softly tracing them as you felt his eyes wonder to yours. There was no sign of disappointment nor a hint of harm or disgust. Only something he never understood that it made him sob unexpectedly, startling you that left you pulling him into your embrace which he latches his face onto your neck and arms surrounding your body whole.
He cries.
All the frustration of not knowing whatever was happening, the mistakes he wishes to correct and the past he hoped to save along with the title he swore to maintain. It all falls on the smaller body he treasures in his arms at this very moment. He clutches, he palms, he roams. Whatever he can do just so he can fully grasp the idea that someone was there. You were there, and he wasn't alone anymore.
"I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough."
It would shock the world and break the hearts of many to hear these very words uttered from the mouth of the honored one. And Gojo wishes that everyone could hear it. That it would somehow reach the skies to wherever his best friend was too. To you, the person he loved the most. He was sorry that he wasn't the Gojo Satoru in your eyes.
"No, Toru. No." you push him back gently only to pull him in for a soft kiss, "I don't need you to always be the strongest. Let alone apologize for being vulnerable." he listens as he nuzzles against the palms meeting his face. The ones that held him together when he was falling apart.
His lips wobbled a bit when you land kisses on his scars, "These may not have been the good ones in your life, but these do not make you for who you are, Satoru." he hums in content when you rub down to his chest soothingly, the feeling that you has him yearning for more. Needing for more, "It's okay to be lost, and it's okay to be weak. But it'll never define you."
"I need you to be just you."
You pull him down, letting him cry all his heart out to your naked chest. He let's you have your way to him. The emotions, words, and treatment. All so unfamiliar. And he finds himself wanting. Needing more.
All his life he thought he had it all.
But never in his life has he lived it.
"What am I, (Y/n)?"
Cooing softly as the small of his voice. Like the child who never got to experience what love was. The child raised to already has to burden such responsibilities and stand. Gojo can feel himself breathe in relief as he whispers an "i love you" with a small kiss on your skin when you uttered out the words that has set his locked up self free. Free from the strings that's been taking over. The cage he was kept from all of his living.
The curse of his gift
And being honored of what he truly deserves.
"You're Gojo Satoru."
Just Gojo Satoru.
© all content belongs to mochikeiji. Please do not repost or copy, ありがとうございました!! (=^･^=)
#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen gojo#gojo fluff#gojo headcanons#gojo imagine#gojo satoru x reader#gojo scenarios#gojo x reader#gojou x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojou satoru#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader
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PARINGS: Pro Hero! Dabi x Sister! Reader
TW: yandere, incest, no con, voyeurism, choking, burning, unprotected/no prep sex, breeding/creampies, snowballing, public sex, degradation, lots of dirty talk
AN: WHEEWW my first fic in a while, so excited for my first join intro collab!! thank you to the lovely jo for writing it <33 enjoy
A BNHarem Server Collab! Check out the other works here.
Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.
Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?
Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary.
Christ, what a load of bullshit the news was nowadays. Constantly whining and squealing about what heroes did and didn’t do, promoting fear-mongering like it was the hottest trend. Between your father and two older brothers dedicating their life to the cause of justice, the world always felt just a little safer to you, the naive little thing that you were. And tonight was no exception.
Despite the rapidly increasing crime rates, your judgment to grab a couple of drinks in the city with your friends was hardly swayed. The stress of it all was getting to you and you’d love nothing more to drink your heart out at one of the few spots still left open. It was a sleazy place, but it was fun. If anything, you found a bar in the area where your eldest brother was currently stationed patrolling.
Touya had always been protective of you ever since the two of you were children, and he carried that same possessiveness well into your adulthood. Always chasing off any potential suitors, keeping you out of trouble, and generally being a menace to anyone who thought they were good enough to be around his favorite little sister.
By the end of the night, stumbling around drunkenly was the only thing keeping you upright as you made your way out of the club and onto the street, looking for a taxi to get you home. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance, a mess of blue and red lighting up the darkened streets.
“Hey sweetheart. Need a hand?”
Grubby hands met your arms the same time the cool air of the night did, tugging and pulling at you to come closer, wherever that may be. Jaunts and laughter echoed off the buildings, only adding to the haziness the alcohol induced. “What’s a pretty little thing like yourself doing out here all on your lonesome?”
Weak attempts to push the group of assaulters off you were in vain as they groped and squeezed your body at their pleasure. “Come on, we’re just trying to keep ya company. Right, boys?”
“Stop..”
Your whine came across much more pathetic than you could have ever hoped, only earning more chuckles from the men. “Just relax, sweetheart. We’ll take good care of you.”
Blue flames danced around the group of you, closing the lot of you against the building wall in a small circle of fire.
“Will you now? Last I checked, I'm the only man suited for that.” Touya was less than amused to have found out from Fuyumi that you traveled into the city given its state, even more so when he saw how drunk and disorderly you were being.
“T-Touya-nii!”
The men untangled themselves from you with ease, tossing you into the arms of your expectant brother, who was more than glad to pull you into a tight embrace. “Shit! It's the number three, Heatstroke!”
The comforting warmth of his body and scent of his cologne settled your frantic nerves, tucking yourself closer into his arms. “Honestly, it’s like you're asking for it at this point.”
Your heart sank low in your chest, but you couldn't find the strength to move away from him as he scowled down at you.
“Look at what you're wearing, you little tease. Bet you would have loved to have them violate you, huh slut?”
Never has Touya been so venomous with you before; it made your heart hurt, even more, to see your beloved nii-san be so cruel.
“Don’t you worry, that’s why your big brother is here to show you who you really belong to.”
Shoved against the wall, he pinned your trembling form with his right knee in between your legs and his hands wandering over your skimpy dress.
“You boys can stick around to watch; let a real man show you how it's done.”
Flames singed at your dress, burning it to ashes to expose you in the cool wind of the night. Hot fingers pressed into your skin, littering marks in their wake before they wrapped around your throat. “You were just begging for nii-san to come to save your slutty ass, huh, princess? I know you checked my patrol schedule before ending up at this dive.”
His hand tightened around your neck, his lips at your ear. “Wanted nii-san to come put you in your place, yeah? After fuckin’ teasing me all these years, you finally cracked me. Are you proud of yourself, little girl?”
A whine slipped from your constricted throat, your smaller hand gripping at the large one squeezing you with everything it had. “And now you've got an audience to witness my ownership over you. You're mine, little girl.”
Finally releasing your throat, his hands traveled down to your chest and groped at your roughly, pinching and pulling at your soft, sensitive nipples. Bile was rising in your throat as you drowned in your own fear, feeling him drag you into the depths of depravity.
“What’s the matter, imouto? I thought you said I was your favorite. You're hurting my feelings, y’know.”
“Touya, please-”
A scoff slapped you hard in the face as his knee jerked up against your cunt. “Don’t start with me. I know who you really are and what you really want, even better than yourself.”
His words stabbed at your heart, and his wandering hands only seemed to pour salt over the wounds. “You’re nothing more than my whore, little sister.”
Hips ground against your backside in a slow, teasing manner, groans pushing past his lips as he did so. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”
His erection was pressed flush against you, straining in his pants before he unzipped himself. At this point, you were more than sobered up running on fear and adrenaline alone. Your panties were ripped clean off with his free hand while the other stroked his hardening cock. “Look at me.”
The tip was aligned with your hole, rubbing slightly to gather the minimal wetness between your lips. “I said look at me.”
Teary eyes peaked up at him through wet lashes, silently pleading with a man who was not known for mercy.
“Good fuckin’ girl, so obedient for your big brother.”
With one snap of his hips, Touya fully sheathed himself inside of your tight cunt, groaning at the way you squealed for him. “Aw, you like that, huh, princess. Feeling good?”
A warbled moan was the only response you could give him as he slowly began to pull out. The alcohol had you buzzing enough to block out the pain of the stretch, and damn did you feel filled to the brim.
“Can’t wait to breed this greedy little cunt of yours.”
His pace was slow, agonizingly so. Touya couldn't help but savor every second of the first time having been inside you, especially after dreaming about it for so long. God, if it didn't turn him on to have an audience, knowing that these men knew he was fucking his sister.
What would the media think? God, the news cycle would be ripped to shreds tomorrow over this breaking story. But hey, no PR is bad PR.
The thought of finally having staked his claim in you almost had him coming prematurely, but he had to hold out for your very first time together, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.
Heh, your crying face was so cute. Those tears weren't shy by any means and neither were your sobs. It's alright, you’ll learn to love being Touya’s cocksleeve.
“Say you love me.”
An impossible request when you're being violated by the person you held dearest to your heart.
His pace had picked up brutally, slamming into you without care for his flames spreading wildly nor the group of assaulters who seemed to vanish once they had the opening to.
“I-I love you, nii-san! I love you!”
Your cries were shrill and whiny, echoing into the chaotic night. The grip on your hips was heating up, so much so that his handprints were burned into your love handles.
“Good girl, good little slut.”
His breathing was erratic, hot against your neck as he growled and grunted into your ear. “Gonna let nii-san breed this pretty little pussy? Yes, you are. I know you are because you're fuckin’ mine, bitch.”
Moaning out your name, Touya came deep inside your womb, thick ropes of his cum painting your insides. You were soon to follow thanks to his thumb against your clit, causing you to writhe and whine in his arms.
Utterly spent, you rested against the brick wall you were pinned to, feeling the cum drip out of your still filled hole.
“Let’s get you home and into my bed, princess. I gotta go have a chat with Dad and Shouto, let ‘em know you’re fully off limits now.”
— tagging: @libiraki @bonesoftheimpala @tomurasprincess @sightoru
#yandere dabi x reader#yandere dabi#dabi#dabi x reader#yandere my hero academia#yandere boku no hero academia#yandere mha#yandere bnha#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#mha#bnha#yandere x reader#yandere
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Silent Treatment
from Textbook Love drabble series
pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader
genre: drabble, smut, college au
synopsis: Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you.
warnings: slight angst, drugs, arguing, dubcon, cunnilingus, mild degredation
word count: 4.2k
tags: @mwitsmejk @1-in-abillion @kooookie
a/n: the request (contains some spoilers). i'm gonna take a very short break from this couple to write other requests!! hope u enjoy 💗
The shift in the Spring weather is unpredictable. One moment it’s chilly, and the other sunny. Humans can only adapt so much, and it causes an outbreak of common colds. Most people recover easily, handy medicine soothing their sore throats, syrups suppressing coughs, and nose sprays ridding the blockage. You, on the other hand, are not that lucky. With a weak immune system, you’re very careful to not get sick, but there must have been a slip-up because you’ve somehow lost your voice after catching a cold.
You sniffle and cough, but you can’t speak. It’s advised to not exert your vocal cords in cases like these, and that is just so unfortunate for you. The last thing you’d ever want to do is spread your sickness to Jungkook, and that meant not getting too close to him; it meant no kissing.
A very large white placard is spread out in front of you on the wooden table, and you’re plastering printed images of a specific global issue on it. You’re sitting on a bench with two of your friends as they chatter mindlessly while you work. Jungkook has a project about climate change due in a few days, and it’s supposed to be very important for his final grade. You’ve already written him a script for his presentation along with a stick prop to point at specific pictures. It’s fun, glittery and he’s going to love it.
“Hey,” Minnie, your friend, calls for you, “we’re going to get some coffee from Starbucks. Want us to get you green tea?”
Soyeon laughs when your eyes light up; it’s your favorite beverage, and it’s supposed to help with your sore throat. They leave with a smile after you give them a hyper nod and you’re alone as you adjust your woolen scarf around your neck. You need to heal as fast as you can so you’re no longer missing your beloved’s affection.
Jungkook has been feeling more inclined to approach you without reason lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s a common occurrence. Getting teased by his friend, specifically Taehyung, about having a sissy crush on a girl like yourself angered him to no end. A hit always got him to shut up, but not for long. He’s walking your way today because there’s no one around to judge him for talking to you.
You’re tearing a double-sided tape when he sits on your table, carefully avoiding your materials. Your breath hitches as his eyes gloss over your work in progress. “Working hard, I see,” he comments with disinterest. He doesn’t say anything about your efforts, but he’s impressed. The corner of his lip tugs upwards before he leans in for a kiss. You have enough self-control and concern for his well-being over your desires to lean back before your lips make contact. His face is close to yours as he pauses and slightly frowns before trying again. He receives the same results and finally pulls back.
“You did well,” he frowns at you and speaks as if you’re a child, “I’m praising you.” Your eyes are darting back and forth awkwardly and you don’t know what to do other than sit in silence. You put your hands on his knees as a resort and his frown deepens as he watches you. “I can take a hint, you know. You don’t have to fucking ignore me.” He roughly shoves your hands and stands up before storming off with a scoff. You’re torn between following him and being responsible over your belongings. You can’t let his grades go to waste because of a small misunderstanding, so you decide to text him instead. There’s always a possibility someone might steal his project. Or maybe after he’s cooled off? You delay the message, but somewhere in your heart, you’re satisfied by his reaction because it’s clear that he wanted to kiss you.
Heavy footsteps clomp against the sidewalk before Jungkook slumps on the seat next to Taehyung. It’s an isolated area for smoking students at the back of the campus, and his friend group is no exception to this role. They’re taking drags of cigarettes individually as Jungkook glares at his boots. They’re chunky and a bold black, and his dark outfit paints him as the big bad wolf. It fits, because he’s ready to attack when he’s filled with so much resentment. Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you. It doesn’t make sense, but you also grimaced at him, but then why were you doing his homework? He’s feeling frustrated, and upset all the same.
“Someone’s troubled,” Seokjin points out with a mouthful of smoke. “Kookie?”
Said boy only grunts in response.
“Did the lousy girl finally see you for who you really are and leave you?” Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to mock him with a pout. “Tragic.”
“Shut the fuck up, Tae,” Jungkook spits and sends him a death glare, fire flaming in his fierce eyes. “Go actually talk to a girl or something, and leave me alone. I can’t take your shit right now.”
The low blow doesn’t affect Taehyung in the slightest as he holds up his hands in defence with comically wide eyes. “Relax, tiger.”
“Moving on from Tae’s inability to talk to girls in broad daylight, what’s up with you Kook?” Namjoon butts in, earning a fake cough from the receiving end of the insult.
He pauses for a moment before babbling, “I hate those bitches. My mother for one, couldn’t stand wearing clothes whenever she saw a dude. Moving on from guy to guy, unless they’re a fucking asshole. What do they want? Why are they never fucking satisfied?!”
A moment of silence passes among the huddled friends before Yoongi breaks it with a joke, “Who’s the lucky girl?” It doesn’t land as Jungkook deeply sighs in response. “Did she cheat on you?” he tries again.
“No,” he murmurs.
“Then…?”
“She… I don’t fucking know, she gave me the silent treatment. She leaned away from me too,” he shakes his head with a quiet groan, “it just doesn’t add up. I got mad and left.”
“No way that could’ve ended up badly,” Taehyung chuckles but purses his lips when he’s sent another dirty look. “How long was the interaction anyway?”
“Like 30 seconds.”
“Are you coming out tonight?” Yoongi asks and puts out the burning tip of his stick. “Could help you feel better.”
“And we’ve got molly,” Namjoon adds.
“Yeah, fine, whatever.”
Alcohol’s effect on a person differs in moods, and Jungkook is usually a horny drunk. Being a sad drunk is a first for him tonight, but he’s just so confused. It made his heart drop when you outwardly refused his advances and anxiety blossomed in his chest, which he has no idea how to deal with. It kicked in fight or flight instincts, and he just… hated the idea of you not loving him, even if it’s momentary. He can’t bear staying in a situation that makes him feel so insecure, and that feeling is supposed to be left in his childhood. You just about brought out the worst in him without doing anything.
You didn’t do anything.
It’s 10PM and he’s waiting on your usual good night text that he never responds to. It’s so pathetic, and he hates himself for being so used to your affection that it worries him when he’s deprived of it. He’s never doubted your love for him, but his insecurities are churning his gut. It’s an overflow of all of his pent-up emotions, and he can’t handle it.
“Here,” Taehyung pops in out of nowhere, clutching a pill in his hand. There’s a bottle of water in the other as he holds them out for Jungkook to take. “Stop moping and get laid.”
“I’d say the same to you, but you’d probably start crying during sex,” he mumbles and uncaps the bottle before throwing in the pill and washing it down with the water. “Thanks.”
“See that girl over there?” he ignores him and steps behind his miserable friend to point at the owner of the sultry gaze directed at Jungkook from the bar. “She wants to fuck you. Or maybe me, but I’m passing her onto you.”
“How kind of you,” he sarcastically replies.
“Uh-uh, so you’re gonna be in ecstasy in about 10 minutes. Don’t fuck this up.” He slaps his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. It’s a lonesome party because not a lot of people are allowed in when drugs are involved. Causing a ruckus, receiving a noise complaint and then getting arrested is out of the question.
He isn’t interested in sex with a stranger - not today at least -, but he hopes for it to change as he waits to approach her. Maybe drugs will rile him up enough to have fun with someone else and rid his mind of you. It’s an annoying itch on his brain, so he rests his head against the couch to comfort himself with the soft fabric. He’s sleepy from the beer he drank earlier, and he doesn’t know how time goes by so fast when he closes his eyes.
A few minutes must have passed, because he’s starting to feel dizzy in his seat. A smile carves on his face as his mind grows slightly fogged, and he opens his eyes to find the girl quietly chatting with a friend. When she glances at him, he beckons her to come over. She mouths a “be right back” to her friend before strutting in his direction.
“Hey,” she smiles down at him before sitting on the couch. She’s aristocratic, chic and pretty. “Sorry if I weirded you out earlier.” Her voice is sweet like honey, and her words flow out of her tongue so naturally. A dream girl, really, and Jungkook is starting to get horny.
“I don’t mind,” he reassures with a subtle seductive tone, “what’s a girl like you doing with this crowd? You look too innocent.” He wraps a finger around a strand of her hair and twirls it. It feels strange.
“My friend sent me here, told me to watch over someone,” she lowly speaks. “I’m Soyeon.”
“Nice to meet you, Soyeon,” he breathes before crashing her lips with his. His hand reaches down to grip her thigh, tongue poking out to swipe the sticky gloss. It’s flavored, and it tastes of strawberry. When she kisses him back so slowly, innocently, it turns him on so much. His pants feel tight around his crotch as he runs another hand through her soft hair. Compared to him, she’s passionate whereas he’s sloppy. He’s starting to get dizzier, and it feels so fucking good, but he hates it.
There is not a single reason for him to not enjoy this, not when his mood is lifting so high. The hand on her thigh lands on her cleavage instead and she’s so submissive and shy, but something’s off. He groans into her mouth before biting her lip, ripping a whine out of her. Why does she sound so sexy and annoying?
He pulls away from her before sighing in irritation. “Fuck, I can’t do this.”
“Did I do something wrong?” she asks worriedly.
“No, just, fuck.” He starts laughing before rubbing his palms on his eyes, “I really want to fuck, but I just can’t.”
“We can just chat,” she softly suggests. “What’s your name?”
“Jungkook.”
He removes his hands from his face when she goes silent. Her eyes are wide and she’s gaping at him… guiltily? “Crap,” she hisses quietly, “I was supposed to make sure you were okay. My roommate is like, super in love with you and asked me to come here.”
He says your name in a question, wondering if it’s you. When she nods, he asks for your dorm instantly.
“She’s in room 124… Why?”
When he stands up, there’s a sway in his posture but he recovers quickly. There’s an involuntary grin on his face as he thanks her ignorantly. He’s out of the villa in a rush, and he has the overwhelming urge to just run. The campus is a bit far away from the house, but he doesn’t care as his footfalls echo in the dark streets. He has so much energy to waste, and with his current stamina, he’s confident he’ll find you before dawn. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and he doesn’t care for catching his breath as the corner stores pass by him in a blur.
Throughout the two hours of his reckless jog, where he mixed up directions multiple times, his mind is starting to clear up little by little. He’s happy because of what Soyeon told him, and he feels relieved upon seeing the familiar college building. He’s not allowed in dorms at this time, but he’s done this too many times to get caught. Except he was drunk in those instances, and being on MDMA was different. Sneaking past security was tough because he couldn’t bring himself to tiptoe without making so much noise. When they glanced at him, he thought it to be the only choice to just run past them. He’s in the elevator by the time they catch on, and the numbers look wonky in his eyes but he presses the button for the right floor.
He’s shifting his weight repeatedly in an attempt to contain his excitement; he wants to see you so bad. The moment he hears the ding of the elevator, he’s running past the halls and stops upon seeing 124. He has to squint, but he knows this is your dorm.
You wake up with a silent gasp when there’s a pound on the door. You clutch your sheets in fear until someone starts to sing your name. “Jungkook?” you mouth to yourself. You stand up and look through the peephole and there’s a man on the other side who’s bouncing on his feet impatiently.
“Open up,” he sings loudly. You’re worried when you swing the door open and yank him inside so he doesn’t wake up any other students. You try to talk but only a wheeze comes out, so you switch on the light to see him instead. The brightness hurts your eyes as you close them for a few seconds. “Well, well, well, look who we have here…”
He starts to circle around you slowly and stumbles behind you. “Sending people to spy on me after rejecting me like that.” His words are slightly slurred and you turn around to face him with a pout. You point at your throat to give him a hint, but his eyes don’t waver from your pleading ones. “What are your intentions, huh?” he weakly pushes you, “Sending me mixed signals. Who- who do you think you are?”
You hold his hands and place them on your neck, trying to communicate with him by mouthing, “I’m sick,” but he only chuckles. He seems sickeningly joyous, but he’s not over his anger. “Still not going to talk to me? What did I even do?”
You deeply inhale from your nose because he’s not paying attention to you. You’re frustrated with yourself until he yells, “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?” The surge of serotonin, his state of euphoria is crashing down on him the more you ignore him. He had believed the drug would only make him happy, but it intensified his sadness and anxiety just as much when he saw you. It helped him forget you in a social circle, but you confused him so much after he was reassured for so long - coupled with your silence, he’s raging.
“Why are you ignoring me?! What did I do that was so bad that you can’t bear talking to me anymore? You told me you loved me, please,” he chokes and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I-I’ll make it up to you, I’m so sad right now. Just say something…”
You’re watching him in shock and a hint of fear from his fluctuating mood. You want to cry at how pitiful he looks, but instead you aim to grab a piece of paper from your bedside table. He misreads your actions and pushes you against the wall. “Stop this. Stop!” He has your arms pinned and he’s trying so hard to intimidate you so you give in. A dry sob leaves you because he's going mad, but then he has a sudden epiphany. “Maybe you’ll love me again if I fuck you hard enough and engrave it in your brain that you’re mine. Yes, yes!”
He starts unbuckling his belt and you immediately try to stop him; he’ll get sick! He shoves you again and pulls down his jeans before mashing his mouth against yours. All of your efforts have gone to waste when his tongue forces its way down your throat. There’s no point to denying him now, so you hesitantly kiss him back. You’re so guilty, and he’s so careless as he roughly pushes his hand down your white cotton shorts. You’re wearing a navy blue sweater to match so you don’t get cold in the night, but the shorts are meant to prevent a fever. What’s the point now, then? He hasn’t even read your texts that you only remembered to send before sleeping. He missed a whole paragraph of your explanation and confronted you so angrily.
“I’m going to fuck you all night,” he growls against your lips, “then you’ll remember how much you love me.” Your moans are quiet and hitched as he presses down on your clit through your panties. His other hand is on his cock as he strokes it eagerly, ready to get inside you. “I missed you so fucking much in one day,” he whispers in a croak. Hearing it makes you feel even warmer inside as you nudge his hand to urge him to enter you. “You missed me too, huh?” he takes notice of your neediness. “Shouldn’t have fucking brought it upon yourself then.”
He removes his hand from your shorts and taps your thighs before demanding, “Jump.” You bite your lip in consideration until he taps them harder and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. Your shorts are relatively short, resembling loose boxers, so when your back is pressed against the wall he only pushes them and your underwear to the side before thrusting into you. A scream gets caught in your throat, and you forget all about your aches as he roughly fucks into you without caring for protection or lube. It stings only slightly, but the pleasure in feeling so full of him outweighs the pain.
Jungkook is moaning and groaning as he bruises your thighs in his hold. Your panting is all he can catch, and though the feeling of you is an amplified sensation because of the drug coursing in his system, he wants to hear you chant his name as well. “Still quiet?” he tuts and carries you to your narrow bed and you cling onto his shoulder while trying to catch your breath after the sudden attack. “Your cunt is throbbing though,” he says as he pulls out of you and drops you on the bed. He manhandles you by flipping you on your stomach and holds up your ass. He finally takes off your bottom clothing, but he’s slightly dizzy as he yanks them off your ankles. He spreads your thighs apart and you’re on your knees with your head against the mattress. “I wonder why that is,” he says before slapping your pussy, making you whimper quietly. “So wet, yet you don’t even make a sound. Some whore you are.” You purse your lips and muster a whine, but it’s interrupted when he pistons his cock inside you without warning. Your sounds are hoarse as he pounds into you from the back, hands kneading your ass to the shape of his hands. He gives it a spank as he moans loudly; the new position makes it feel so much more intense, and Jungkook loves it. His ears finally get to hear your pathetic mewls as he thrusts so deeply inside you that your vision blurs with tears and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You feel like a doll that can’t speak or move, and he’s evidently enjoying it going by his rushed pace. You’re challenging him with your silence, and he loves proving himself.
All of a sudden however, he stops moving. You look behind you with a pout and he quirks a brow at you. You grit your teeth because you know he's waiting for you to tell him to continue, or rather daring you to do something. A sudden surge of confidence overcomes you and you gently slam your hips against his, fucking yourself on his cock with your eyes screwed shut.
“Yes, baby,” he strains, “show me that you're still my good girl.” At his encouragement, you meet his thrusts faster and you're seeing stars at how amazing it feels. You want to be his good girl so bad, and you arch your back to savour the pleasure. “Your pussy is mine, all mine,” he affirms to himself and stills your hips to turn you around without removing his length. His fingers are digging into your flesh and your tits bounce under the fabric as he rams into you restlessly. Your mouth is open in a silent scream and he can barely make out your pupils, the whites of your eyes stirring his climax at how attractive you look under the poor lighting. “I love you so fucking much,” he cries, “say it back, baby.”
You try to, but you can only dryly cough. “You fucking bitch,” he hisses at your defiance and pulls out of you to pump his length. He’s close to his release, and he pushes up your sweater to see your hard nipples that make him salivate. He crawls to slide his cock between the valley of your breasts and it hurts when he harshly pushes them together. “Stick out your tongue,” he commands in a whisper, and you do so while panting like a dog. Every time he thrusts upwards, the tip of his head grazes your tongue and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s massaging your tits as he stutters between whines, and eventually his load spurts out to land on your chest and cheek with a particularly loud groan. His cum surges down his shaft as he rides out his high with the last slow thrusts.
“Oh fuck,” he sighs airily and collapses next to you in the tiny space available. You clumsily turn on your side to give him more room and he pecks your swollen lips. He zips his pants back up and you’re still naked from the waist down. You’re staring at each other adoringly in the romantic, fragile atmosphere; another first.
“I love you,” you croak finally. It’s quieter than a whisper, and it makes you cringe at how hideous you sound; it’s painful as well.
His face lights up once he registers your words before noticing the tone. “What happened to your voice?”
“Sick.” You can’t bring yourself to say anything more as you snuggle into his side and he instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders.
“Shit,” he murmurs, “why didn’t you tell me that sooner, idiot?”
You slap a hand on his front pocket where his phone is, and he hastily takes it out to see a bunch of notifications from you. “You sent it at night, you’re still the idiot.” You giggle and roll your eyes. “A promise is a promise, though,” he purrs before cupping your bare heat. “I did say I would fuck you all night.” You widen your eyes when his head lowers down to face your sopping wet cunt, and he slowly licks up a stripe over your soaked folds, making you shudder and grip his hair. He’s leaving kitty licks all over your sensitivity, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against your clit every now and then. Your hips lift involuntarily, and he finally takes your clit in his mouth and sucks on it loudly. He slurps your arousal before spitting it back on your hood, and you can only squeak in response. Your hazed mind only tells you that you want more, and he doesn’t fail to provide.
Two fingers enter your clenching hole, and he’s scissoring your walls as he messily eats you out. The pleasure from earlier returns all too soon and you know you won’t be able to last long. His lids are hooded when you glance down at him and the way he’s looking at you makes it even harder to resist your orgasm. The knot in your stomach picks back up right before unraveling and your moan is raspy as you start twitching under his relentless mouth. He grows gentle and leaves kisses all over your vulva until your body falls limp on the sheets.
After another round of penetrative sex, the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion in your bed. It’s a first for the both of you, and Jungkook decides in his drunken mind that tonight won’t be the last. It feels so intimate when he cuddles you, and you won’t ever forget his love confession.
The next morning is not so pleasant however, as Jungkook wakes up with a loud sneeze and in his now nasal voice says, “God fucking damn it.”
#bts imagines#bts scenarios#bts smut#bts x reader#jeon jungkook#jungkook smut#jjk smut#jungkook imagines#jungkook x reader#bts jungkook#jeon jungkook smut#jungkook scenarios#bts fic#jungkook fic
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1. I LOVE your writing! You're amazing! 2. If it's not too much trouble, could I request something where Ezio's wife is feeling quite insecure because she feels like she isn't as good as some of the other women Ezio has "been" with like Caterina and Ezio is trying to assure her that she shouldn't feel like that
Of course!! Sorry that it's taken me so long to get round to this, I've hardly been active on Tumblr at all in quite a while but I miss it here :(
She glanced over to where the Contessa was being checked over by a doctor while Ezio worriedly looked over her. Deep down, she knew that he was only concerned because she was a powerful ally to the brotherhood and her arrest at the hands of the Borgia had put her contribution to that alliance in jeopardy. But she couldn't help but fear that he was worried because they had a history together.
Claudia had told (Y/n) enough of what her husband was like in his youth - romancing every attractive woman he laid eyes on. On good days, this made her feel special - she were the one he married, after all - but on worse ones, it made her worry that he felt he could do better and go back to some of these women. Ezio was a faithful man, especially when it came to family, but this didn't stop her from worrying that she may not quite reach what he's been treated to by other women in his past.
She must have been glaring a little too hard though, because soon enough, Claudia was by her side, her arms folded.
"The woman is fine, I have a meeting to attend and he’s holding it up to fuss over her.” She snapped in disdain, her voice lowered as to not carry across the stone walls of Isola Tiberina’s Assassin hideout.
“I don’t like it.” (Y/n) confessed, her eyes shooting daggers at the Contessa of Forli. Claudia raised a brow at the acid in her tone, finding it so unlike her sister-in-law to be so bitter. Glancing over at Claudia’s expression of surprise, she stepped her way out of the conversation to go and fetch Ezio. He had duties as Mentor of the Brotherhood and she had the claws of jealousy tying knots at her like a marionette. Emotions were something personal to (Y/n) and she wouldn’t watch herself become a wreck over some half-disgraced woman who had lost hold of her city.
She could remember Ezio telling her how impressed he was to see a woman running a city all on her lonesome once...
She cleared her throat, dismissing the thought as she did.
“Ezio, our contacts are waiting for you.” She spoke up, her face and voice the mask of business to hide her feelings.
“Sì, I just-”
“Bartolomeo has barracks to attend to, Volpe has a tavern to maintain and Claudia has a brothel to run.” She cut him off, watching as he turned his head quickly to face her, his expression a lock of shock and offence, “While they wait for you, their factions wait for them. You keep our entire Brotherhood on hold in a most dire hour to fuss over the Contessa who I’m sure if capable enough of getting her own health in order with the medico.” Ezio had stood now from Caterina’s side, bewildered at his wife’s ill temper.
“Amore-“
“You have a job to do so go do it!” She snapped, “I have recruits to attend to and correspondence to deal with.” And with that said, she stormed off to the study in order to deal with the letters sent from the Brotherhood’s contacts across Italia.
She set the few recruits that she had gathered in Roma some training assignments and filed through all the available contracts in the Mediterranean, even going as far as to reorganise all the books of the study’s library. All of this was done to avoid going to bed, knowing that Ezio would be there and knowing that he wold ask her about her attitude from earlier.
It was when she was obsessively trying to get the paperweights in position that the door opened. In stepped the last man that she was willing to face in that moment: her poor husband who had suffered the brunt of her lashing out in jealousy.
“Gioia,” He began, his tone soft yet cautious, “come to bed.”
“But I need to sort these out…”
“I’m sure that the papers won’t grow wings and start flying any time soon.” He walked behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder and inhaling deeply as he pressed his face to her neck, “Come, I want to hold you and talk.”
“I just need...” She obsessively tried to get the weight to fit between the lines of the letter perfectly, some part of her mind telling her that everything would be alright if all these little things were exactly where they needed to be, that she wouldn’t have to talk about her feelings if she just got these other things sorted out first.
“You need to lay down with your husband,” One of his palms splayed across her stomach, tenderly rubbing up and down as his other hand caressed her waist, “and let him hold you in his arms,” A soft kiss pressed to the nape of her neck, “and tell him all about what has you so stressed. Doesn’t that sound good?”
“Yeah, except the talking about my feelings bit.” She mumbled as the weight refused to quite fit between the lines, tears pricking her eyes, even if she tried to laugh a little. Ezio hummed knowingly.
“Come on…”
“Ok...” She surrendered, letting him lead her upstairs with one arm around her waist while his free hand held her own, smaller, hand in his.
He lead her up to their room where he began to strip her of her clothes that day, leaving her in a chemise. He frowned in sadness at her apathy, the way she didn’t melt into his touches as she usually would, and worry set into his veins.
He pulled her to the bed where he lay beside her, propped up on one elbow while she laid on her back, her bottom lip trembling, eyes glassy and jaw held tight in determination to keep a cool composure.
“What has upset you?”
“It’s stupid.” She replied simply, “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you or worried you, you don’t deserve that.” She took in a quick breath and covered her face with her hands, a small sob escaping her lips, each one that followed like a pair of scissors to his heartstrings.
“If it’s making you feel this way, it can’t be stupid.” He rested a hand on her arm and she turned away from him, her hand gripping the case of the pillow under her head impossibly tightly.
“It’s the Contessa.” She mumbled into the plush pillow, her cheeks already heating up in humiliation, “The way you risked your life to save her today and then you were fussing over her health and...”
“Amore, you know that I would do all the same and more for you.” He spoke, almost in disbelief that this is what she was so upset about. There was a long silence as she wrapped her arms around her torso, hoping that somehow she could physically hold herself together with her arms.
“Why did you marry me?” Fresh tears wet her cheeks and she muffled the sound of her crying in the sheets. He drew closer to her and held her in his arms, feeling her frame jolt with each sob.
“Because I’m in love with you.” He replied simply, “I’m in love with the way you see the world and people, I’m in love with your passion and humour and intelligence.” He squeezed her tightly.
“But you could have had any woman you pleased, any woman you’ve been with before. The countess of Forli: the only woman strong enough to run her own city and even fend off Borgia armies.” She hesitated but now that she had bottled up such strong emotions all day, the glass had cracked and no one could hold in its contents lest they slice their hands on the glass. “And don’t think I didn’t overhear that night back in Monteriggioni when I was still just the decipherer Leonardo had sent for the codex pages.”
Once upon a time, this would have been a time for Ezio to be boastful, but now that he was a married man, he only felt rather embarrassed instead. Looking away for a moment, his eyes came back to land upon his wife.
“You worry that you don’t live up to the women I’ve had before then?” He asked cautiously, knowing that this question may well only make things far worse if he were wrong.
“She’s a fucking countess who runs her own city and has her own armies, not to mention the fact that she’s also very clearly good in bed. Who am I? The goddamn babysitter of all the recruits.” She threw her hands up in the air before rolling onto her back and turning her head to face him, at last, with teary eyes.
“You, amore mio,” He began, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek, turning his body even more so in her direction, “are the woman who stole my heart so quickly, that I simply couldn’t wait to marry you.” It was true, they had only been seeing each other for just over 18 months when he asked her to marry him. “You’re an Assassin who is fighting for everyone in Roma and then all of Italia behind her borders.” A conviction began to grow within his voice as he took up her left hand in his, holding it up so that she could see her wedding and engagement rings. “You are the only woman in this world that I want to spend the rest of my life with.” He brought her hand up to place a kiss upon her knuckles. “I have had histories with women before, we both know this… But they are the past and you,” He leaned down to place a soft kiss upon her lips, lingering and tender, “are my future.”
A small smile quivered upon her lips as fresh tears welled in her eyes, tears of an overwhelming sentiment of love.
“I love you with all my heart, Ezio.”
#Ezio#ezio auditore da firenze#ezio auditore#ezio's family#ezio assassins creed#ezio x reader#ezio auditore fanfiction#ezio auditore imagine#ezio auditore x reader#ezio auditore da firenze x reader#ezio/ reader#ezio auditore/ reader#im back on my fanfic shit bitches
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𝑛𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑠 ➤ 𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙. & 𝑠𝑡𝑢 𝑚.
In which the reader comes home, completely broken-hearted and her two friends, Stu Macher and Billy Loomis, come in to put a smile on her face and show her how much they love her.
WARNINGS: This is a smut but not well written, lol. It’s mainly just oral, both receiving and giving. (male and female.) Also, if you squeeze your eyes really tight, you may get a glimpse of slight foreshadowing in which Billy and Stu killed the guy that broke the reader’s heart but blink and you might miss it. Anyways. Enjoy.
(Y/N) lied upon a soft feather mattress, cocooning herself in the silk sheets. A sad sigh surpassing her lips as the realization settles in, hitting her like a ton of bricks, like a cold bucket of water was thrown on her. She's alone. The room feels empty. Wait, no, scratch that.
It is empty. It's dark and cold and lonesome. As many blankets that surround her and although she has many draped around her body, her skin still somehow prickles with goosebumps and she's shivering.
Though, she knows it's not because she's cold. She isn't shaking because of that. Not really.
Before she could stop herself, her eyes start to glisten with tears, the corner of her eyes pooling with water and slowly but surely, they slide down her skin, wetting her cheeks.
Goddammit. God fucking dammit, she thinks, reaching over and grabbing the duvet comforter, she slides it over her head. Broken, silent sobs then proceed to escape past her lips, although she oh so desperately tries to hold them back. She fails miserably. Then, out of nowhere, she hears a little knock, followed by another.
Rolling over to lay on her stomach, (Y/N) buries her face into the nearest pillow, causing mascara tears to soak and stain the cushion as she continues to cry and sob.
Before she realizes it or even can acknowledge it, the window to her bedroom is being pulled up and her friends, Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, step inside her bedroom.
"(Y/N)?"
(Y/N) is quick to flip around upon hearing her name, her heart hammering wildly against her chest.
"S-Stu? Billy? What the Hell are you guys doing here?" She relaxes, having seen her friends standing by her bedroom window rather than the man everybody was fearing lately in Woodsboro.
A masked man with a dark cloak and a spine-chilling voice. She was lucky she hadn't heard what he sounded like, she had enough nightmares as is.
It was hard to say whether or not it was a man behind the mask but regardless, whatever sex the person was, they were crazy, inside and out. End of story.
(Y/N) makes a mental note, reminding herself to lock her window next time and to keep track of that before she gets comfortable and goes to bed. Especially with what was happening everywhere in Woodsboro.
"We wanted to make sure you were okay." Billy said, walking over to the girl as he sat down next to her, the mattress sinking beneath his weight. Stu followed, nodding happily as he shows a few VHS tapes, gesturing them over to (Y/N).
"We brought movies to watch and snacks, too!" He exclaimed as he then pulled out a small plastic bag, dumping out the items onto her bed.
There was chips and candy and they were all her favorite flavors and brands, too. (Y/N) felt the tears pooling in the corner of her eyes again at the sweet gesture her friends were sharing with her.
"Oh... c'mon, don't be such a cry baby." Stu snickered but he wrapped his arms around (Y/N) and pulled her into a side hug, Billy following right behind, hugging her from her right.
"We love you, we've got your back, always, okay?"
"What Stu said. Besides, this world doesn’t deserve an angel like you, (Y/N).”
"Mhm." Stu nodded.
"I really liked him, that's all..... I should've known it was a set up to get back with his ex." (Y/N) said with a sniffle, running a hand over her face as she tries to rid herself of any left over makeup, especially getting rid of the mascara, although, if she were positive, that and her eyeliner were most likely now resting on the pillow she had cried into rather than on her face.
"Well, he's a fucking idiot." Billy growled. "He doesn't see how perfect you are, (Y/N)."
"Billy and I see that, though." Stu said, taking his hand off from her shoulder as he now rests his hand on her thigh, giving her a reassuring squeeze. It made (Y/N)'s breath hitch in her throat and she bites on her lower lip, nervously.
What were they doing....? She thinks.
“We would do anything for you. Absolutely anything.” Billy said.
"We'd do anything just to see you happy, just to see you smile..." Stu continued. "You deserve nothing but the best, deserve nothing but happiness."
"So, please... (Y/N)... let us give you that. Let us show you how beautiful and loved you really are. We love you.... we love you so much-"
"We love you so much we'd kill for you."
Billy looks over at Stu, giving him a questioning glare and (Y/N) goes to ask what that stare meant but her words are loss and any train of thought she had left the building once she feels both hands of Billy and Stu's on her thighs.
One on her left, the other on her right.
"So.... no movies then?" (Y/N) asked jokingly. Her heart, like earlier, was pounding so loud she swore both boys could hear it against her chest. Her body was trembling as it had done earlier but now, it wasn't from sadness or feeling broken but rather hot and bothered.
She did always have an attraction to Billy and Stu, she'd be a liar to say she didn't.
"We can watch them later. Right now, we want to see those legs of yours sprawled out, give us a view of that pretty pussy."
(Y/N) whined softly but she obeyed, and while she did, Billy grunted while Stu spoke softly, "Such a good girl for us. You're our good girl, aren't you, sweetheart?"
(Y/N) nodded as she stretched her legs on either side of her. All she was wearing was a thin gown, one that matched her sheets, being the fact both were silk.
"Oh.... so pretty, so beautiful." Stu purred, licking his lips, his eyes growing darker while Billy's did the same.
"Naughty though.... aren't you, baby? Not wearing any panties." Billy chuckled as he stood up, feet landing on the carpeted floor with a soft thud as he walks over to (Y/N), undoing his jeans and the belt that had been neatly placed in the hoops of the pants.
"Is it okay if you suck me off, darling? You want to be a good girl, don't you?"
(Y/N) says nothing, she's unable to speak. It was as if a cat had captured her tongue and ran off with it, and she couldn't get it back from the creature. She feels paralyzed, too. Everything feels as if it's going by too fast.
What an odd day.... she thinks. She didn't expect this to happen, not now, not ever. But she wasn't angry at it or the outcome of tonight's misfortune. It was just crazy how fast the night changes.
"Baby? I asked you a question... If you know what’s good for you, you better answer me.”
"Y-yes." (Y/N) stammered, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. "I'd love to suck you off, please, may I?"
"Oh!" Stu chirped, giggling as he shook his head from side to side, a wicked grin playing out across his lips. "She's got manners, fuck - we really found the perfect girl, haven't we, Billy?"
"Mhm." Billy said, pressing his cock to her lips. "Open up, sweetie. Let's see how pretty you look with a mouth full of cock."
While (Y/N) parts her lips open, and as Billy pushes himself in her wet and warm mouth, (Y/N) feels heat against her clit and before she can put two and two together, Stu's devouring her pussy with his tongue and she squeaks, bucking her hips up into his touch.
"Fuck! She tastes incredible. Can't believe I haven't gotten to you sooner." Stu said before pressing his face back in between her thighs, licking and lapping her cunt with his tongue, making her tremble and shake.
(Also makes her almost choke and gag on Billy's cock as he presses his cock further down her throat.)
Above, Billy nodded as he rocked his hips back and forth, eyes half-lidded, not quite shut but not all the way open either, as he grunts out an answer;
"She's good with her mouth too, Stu." He said.
"Not sure I can last long, sweetheart..." He warned and right as the words slip from his lips, it didn't take less than a second until (Y/N)'s mouth is being filled with Billy's creamy, white load.
"Oh.... fuck!" He grunts, pulling back as he drops down next to her on the bed.
"Go on, baby. Cum for Stu. You wanna be good for him too, don't you? Go on and cum.... cum all over his tongue, beautiful. I'm sure he'll love the taste of your juices, exploding into his mouth."
And fuckfuckfuck.....
FUCK~!!
"O-Oh!" (Y/N) mewls, bucking her hips into his mouth once more as the sweet release of her orgasm floods out of her and into Stu's mouth. Happily, Stu licks every drop up, pulling back with a very much pleased and satisficed smile.
"Both her and her pussy are so sweet." Stu complimented, now crawling up onto the bed and resting beside her, tucking his face into her neck as he presses a few ghostly kisses on her skin. "Love you."
"I love you, too."
"And what about me?" Billy said with a playful pout.
"I love you too, Billy Loomis." (Y/N) admitted, grinning as she scooted a few inches over, patting the empty spot next to her. "Sleep with us?"
Billy smiled in reply as he plopped down next to his now lovers, curling up in (Y/N)'s side and kissing the other side of her neck, the way Stu had done previously.
"I'll treat you to a good time too, tomorrow," (Y/N whispered, mainly to Stu but she turned and repeated the sentence to Billy as well. The boys look at each other with a smirk, giving one a knowingly glance before they turned back to (Y/N).
"Sounds like a plan, baby."
The smile she wore across her lips falls into a frown and the boys are quick to sit up, having seen the smile turn upside down. "Baby, are you okay?"
"Yeah."
"Babe....don't you lie to us."
"I'm not." She answers truthfully. "But.... this- I mean, us three, it's real, right?" She gestures in the air with a wave of her hand. "You won't play with my feelings and hurt me-"
"Baby." Billy's voice is rough and cold, and his grip on her is far from affectionate and soft. "We'd kill for you, remember?"
"We love you so much, (Y/N) you have no idea to what limits we'd go to prove that to you.”
She didn't understand why the two kept repeating that very first sentence but she didn't question it, didn't think anything of it. She smiled and nodded, rubbing at her eyes now tiredly.
"I love you both, too. Now... before I get too tired, can we watch those movies you rented?"
Billy laughed softly as Stu scrambled up and on his feet, grabbing the candy and the films that had fallen on the bed off of the floor and goes to set the VHS player up, clicking the TV on with a push of a button.
"You're gonna love these, (Y/N)! It's a new horror movie that came out!"
"As long as it's not a slasher with a mask like the one that's hanging around in Woodsboro, I'm fine with anything. Whenever that monster goes away, I'll be fine and more than happy to watch slasher films again... just not now." She says with a laugh.
"Don't worry, baby. With us around, you’ll be safe and sound. We’ll protect you.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
#billy loomis x yn#scream imagines#scream#scream by wes craven#ghostface x reader#ghostface x yn#billy loomis x reader#ghostface imagines#billy loomis imagines#ghostface fanfics#stu macher x reader#stu macher x yn#billy loomis smut#stu macher smut#i wish there were more gifs than just this one to use for billy and stu#oh well#rip#stu macher fanfics#stu macher imagines#ghostface smut#billy loomis fanfic#stu macher fanfic#scream smut#slasher x yn#slasher x reader#slasher smut#my works#cierra's stories
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