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and-stir-the-stars · 11 months

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uuu aaaaaaAA

for question: what would the immediate aftermath of the bite be like? like generally in most aus where the bite incident happens-

(also just got on and new au?? you spoil me eheh)

long answer under the cut

I’m assuming you’re talking about My Brother My Wound, since this ask came in with all the other MBMW ones? If so, it’s funny that you’d call the au new; it’s actually my oldest au, I just haven’t talked about it on tumblr much for some reason

I hadn’t put much thought into what the immediate aftermath (as in, before Evan wakes up) would be, so thanks for the excuse to develop it more :)

First, let me explain how the Bite goes down in the au: Gregory is late to Evan’s birthday party because he wanted to put finishing touches on Evan’s gift; he wanted the present to be extra perfect and special since Ev had to have his party somewhere that scares him. Liz is off with her friends somewhere off-screen, wanting to avoid Mike’s tormenting of Evan as much as possible so she can pretend she’s just hanging out with her friends having fun. Liz hears Evan crying as Mike drags him away, and as Gregory rushes forward in a (fruitless) attempt to save him, Elizabeth (not seeing what is happening) wishes both of her brothers would just disappear so they won’t embarrass her or remind her of how broken things are in their family anymore. Then, chomp. In the panic and confusion as William and Mike rush Evan to the hospital, Liz gets left behind at Fredbear’s. I might change this but I’m currently thinking that Freddy realizes she got left behind, and takes her with the rest of his family as they follow Evan to the hospital.

So, immediate aftermath would go smth like this.

Mike gets taken away from the Afton house for about a month while Evan is in his coma. You can probably come up with some kind of believable reason for why the authorities do this, but I’m just gonna come out and admit that it’s purely for plot reasons. Because with Michael gone, Liz is left alone in the Afton household for that month, alone with William and with the crushing guilt that both of her brothers are gone after she specifically wished that they would disappear. I shudder to think of her there alone, but Elizabeth just tries to duck her head and stay out of William’s radar, and William is busy dealing with fall out from the Bite on top of his normal workload. Even so, though, sometimes Liz can’t quite help but look to him for comfort. She asks him if Evan will be okay. She asks where Mike is. She asks if William is doing okay. She asks if they’ll all be okay, in the end. She mostly just gets clipped, insensitive answers (“Evan is a braindead vegetable who in all likelihood won’t be alive in a week” “Michael is out being an embarrassment, there’ll be hell to pay when he gets back” “don’t ask stupid questions, Elizabeth. Put it out of your mind and do not speak of it, not to me or, god forbid, anyone else.”). Liz has to go to her school “friends” for the comfort she isn’t getting at home, but unsurprisingly, her toxic friends don’t provide her with much comfort, either. Maybe teachers find her to be more clingy and desperate for approval than normal in this time period.

Liz has pretty conflicting emotions when Mike finally gets dropped back off at home from whatever foster home or psych eval or juvie facility he was in. On one hand, her brother’s back; she’s not to blame for him being gone anymore. On the other hand, she listened to William go on a lot of rants where he called Mike and the place Mike was at all kinds of bad words, and in his anger, he made it seem like it was Mike’s fault that Mike left, like it was some kind of choice Mike had made to leave them and go be “a humiliation”. So, Liz holds some resentment toward Mike because William and his rants. And, Liz blames Mike for Evan being in a coma. She wouldn’t have lost both of her brothers like that if Mike wasn’t so stupid (it totally doesn’t have anything to do with Liz finding it easier to blame Mike than to blame herself for wishing them gone so much, it wasn’t her fault, it WASN’T, of course not)

Liz sort of wobbles back and forth between demanding (not asking) affection from Mike to make up for the time he was gone and pushing him away for what he did. Maybe it’s not until the “i think we’re both broken” conversation in BCOH that Liz fully forgives him, because she can finally admit to herself that she’s as broken as he is and has done stuff as awful as Mike himself has done, too. Before then, she tried shrugging the blame off on Mike a lot.

Mike lashes out sometimes when the stress, guilt, and abuse get to be too much, but only when he completely loses control; when he has an ounce of self-control left in him, he’s too scared of hurting Elizabeth like he did Evan for that, and too certain that he deserves everything that’s happening to him. Mike doesn’t fight when Liz and William say awful things about him. He said “I didn’t mean for that to happen” so many times during the month he was gone, when people were poking and prodding at him trying to figure out what happened at Evan’s party and if it’s safe for Mike to be around other kids, that the words have lost all meaning– and Mike has already learned from that month that it doesn’t matter how many times he says it, because no one will believe him.

Despite how William is, I don’t think William would be physically violent with Mike when Mike gets returned. Not at first, at least. Because the thing is, as annoyed as William is with Mike for tarnishing the family name by forever associating the name “afton” with “tragedy of the Bite of ‘83” and by making it seem like William can’t take care of (re: control) his own kids, that’s not what REALLY makes William angry. What really makes him angry is that Mike showed signs that he was just like William (an angry killer), and yet, William can’t experiment on his son to see if it’s true/make Mike more like him because the authorities took away his property. When Mike is given back, William goes into overdrive with his experimenting and observations, trying to make up for lost time. What these experiments are, I dunno; let me know if you guys have any ideas. But as the experiments go on, William realizes that Mike isn’t all that like him; Mike killed (almost), but he didn’t enjoy it. It’s not until a month or two later when William can no longer deny that Mike didn’t enjoy it that he starts getting really bad with Mike, because “His youngest getting so severely hurt had been bad enough. At least if Michael had begun showing signs since then that he was similar to his father in more than just appearance, the incident would have meant something– would have given some kind of result. As it was, William had merely gotten from it one damaged son and an unending stream of problems” (Collection, ch 6).

I’ve also been thinking about it, and like.., wouldn’t it be awful if during the time Ev was in a coma, William actually wanted to pull the plug on Evan’s life support, but the only thing that kept him from doing so was his own pride? If once the novelty of his genuine concern over Evan faded, he didn’t really care whether Evan lived or died anymore, and the only thing keeping him from pulling the plug was his fierce determination that he does NOT want the death of a child to permanently tarnish his life work (the PUBLIC death of a child, at least)?

I can see it working two ways: 1) William sees Evan as “damaged” goods and genuinely doesn’t care whether he lives or dies, maybe even would prefer it if Evan died bc his son being dead is better than Evan being braindead or even waking up and being just as cognitively impaired as the doctors warn him Evan will be if he ever wakes, or. 2) William still sees Evan as “damaged goods,” which is why it unnerves him that he still seems to care whether his son survives; William doesn’t like how unpredictable and nonsensical this feeling (caring for Evan) is, doesn’t like how weak it makes him feel, so he wants to get rid of Evan (and his confusing feelings) entirely by pulling the plug. Either way, once Evan finally wakes up and starts getting better, William’s attachment/feelings/concern fades away once Evan isn’t in the danger zone anymore and William is certain he’s going to survive now.

Honestly, Evan is lucky that it was a Fredbear location where Mike hurt him so badly, because if William’s company wasn’t on the line, William probably would have pulled the plug. I wonder if Liz, Mike, and the Fazbears ever find out that William genuinely considered it…

As for the Fazbears, there is just. So much therapy. Ness and Greg and Freddy canonically regularly attend therapy in the au, and the three of them get sooo much more therapy post-Bite to help them all cope. My thoughts on their reactions are less developed, though. Gregory’s grades slip. Ness and Greg both start lashing out more to deal with stress (tho they ofc, like. Actually apologize and work through their feelings afterward, unlike Mike). Freddy tries not to let it get the best of him, but… he’s angry, too.

#also post-bite mike completely stops seeing his friends #i don't really have characterizations for mike's friends #but one of them (freddy mask) is more. like. touchy feely and sensitive than the others.#freddy mask tries to approach mike at school one day and mike snaps bc he's made it pretty clear that he doesn't want to be around them #he punches or shoves freddy mask; nothing too violent but just violent enough that freddy mask and mike both walk #away from the experience scared of mike (in mike's case of himself)#i don't know what the other masked kids would do. if they want to ban together as the whole school (or town)#turns on them and calls them murderers or if seeing each other is Too Much and the friend group disbands.#maybe one or two of them moves away entirely.#(jeremy isn't one of my masked bullies btw. just to like. avoid the implication of any shipping plz and thank you)#my brother my wound #a nest torn empty #fnaf au #tw child abuse #tw child death #i can already hear crumble yelling at me for not developing mike's trauma in this more. i'm SORRY okay lmao

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emirrea · 4 months

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I'm still trying to look for internships, and there was one super interesting one which answered my emails, but they only offer unpaid internships T_T It looks like such a good place for me and my studies, but unpaid internships are so fucky asdfghgkhjl

#posting #i'm so torn between 'oh it's just two months of unpaid work you could do that for the experience'#and 'no that's how they get all the desperate students to do free work for them'#i keep trying to tell myself that's it's my right to be paid even for an internship position #especially considering that i'm like 80-90% done with my major's degree #i'm practically almost graduated already #surely i should get paid for my work #especially since even EU is trying to start regulating internships soon-ish #but the place looked so goooooood #but it being unpaid is such a red flag orz #don't mind me i'm just trying to convince myself to move on and keep looking for other places LMAO

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coridallasmultipass · 5 months

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Preview of the Bro/Dave fic I'm workin' on:

[Scene: roadside motel, 6:53 AM]

You look over at the side table. The apple juice is looking pretty tempting right now.

You grab it and twist the seal open with a crackle.

"Is that my apple juice?" Dave mumbles out against his pillow. Shit.

"'S mine now."

Dave turns to glare at you. You can hear him communing telepathically with you. 'Try it, motherfucker.'

You try it.

And get a mouthful of bitchslap.

Dave snatches it away from you without spilling a drop and sits up to drink it. "Can't fuckin' sleep with you being all loudly silent, anyway. I can practically hear your brain going 'tick-tock, Dave, time to wake up, Dave, you sleep too much, Dave, did you know I'm a big fucking douche, Dave?'" he rambles on while walking into the bathroom.

"So what happened to all the towels?" You call out.

"Shut the fuck up."

#how tf do u format posts on the mobile app this is bullshit #anyway its a slow burn filled with trauma esp for bro who is functionally dirk in this #alpha d and alpha rose are a messed up 80s/90s grunge couple that lived fast and died young #and bro is all kinda of torn up about it #and bro is like taking dave on a road trip to try and act like hes not actively fucking dave up more than D already did by dying #idk how im gonna make the bro/dave happen yet #but theres already bro/shower/brainghost alpha d #my fucking notes app is like 70 pages but idk how long that is in wordcount bc the pages arent like normal size pages #30 pages is about 5k words #also what happened to the towels is dave #dave happened to the towels #also theres bro/snoop dogg furry mpreg #lmao if anyone reads the tags this far #im a word vomit machine #verbose as a mf #fanfic #writing #wip #Create.exe #Cori.exe #Post.exe #striders #stridercest #not gonna character tag tho idk #its def ooc for canon bro but i could literally not give a fuck #dave/apple juice otp7eva #still laughing about 'strider mainpain' being a legit ao3 tag but thats basically how this fic is going #it was supposed to be cute and wholesome but thats physically impossible when it comes to striders #also theyre both unmedicated as fuck like damn #omfg why is there a 30 tag limit on tumblr let me ramble u mf shitty piece of fuck jfc let me ver my bose

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the-nightmare-theater · 8 months

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. (blog update check tags)

#hmmmmm i kinda wanna start using this site again #its been like what? 3 or so years now??#im like 20 now lmao #idk if i should delete all the past posts from here or not tbh #like. i apart of me just wants to make a new account and start fresh but another part of me is tempted to just delete all the posts from-#-my current blog #i already have a url set aside i might use considering 'kowomawu' is kinda cringe but in a bad way lmao #oh also this blog will probably become a gg (guilty gear) blog so if you dont like that then uhhh unfollow now lmao #well if i decide to revive it again that is #idk man i just wanna post about that bedridden twink on this hellsite lmao #im still torn..........also if anyone who knew me irl from 2015~2020 please block <3 #theres 2 people who do who at one point followed my blog and i really dont wanna talk to any of them #i dont wanna be attached to who i was when i was a dumbass teenager....... which ig is why im tempted to just start fresh #but i follow so many blogs on here and my feed is so personalized from the like what? 8 or so years of using this site?#idk im kinda just yelling into the void rn #if anyone knows any way to like. move your blogs posts to a side blog please tell me i dont really feel like accidentally creating lost-#-media

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bigskyandthecoldgun · 9 months

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based off this post i made a couple days ago lmao

words: 2.1k

Generally speaking, Steve Harrington is a pretty good boyfriend.

He takes Eddie out, never lets him pay for stuff if he can help it—hell, he’s even bought Eddie flowers before. And Eddie’s not complaining, because it’s hard enough to find another queer man in Hawkins, let alone one willing to date him. So Steve is his first boyfriend, and Eddie hasn’t had much (read: any) experience with dating.

But he’s pretty damn sure by the time they hit the three-month mark that Steve’s staunch refusal to hold his hand is unusual.

It’s not like Steve isn’t affectionate. More often than not, Steve’s arm will be around his shoulders or his waist, and there are no shortages of kisses anywhere and everywhere. But Steve won’t hold his hand. And he hasn’t let Eddie give him a handjob. Which—the latter isn’t as much of an issue, because maybe Steve’s just not a fan of handjobs, and that’s fine, Eddie’s not an asshole, Steve’s more than entitled to say no to stuff like that.

Though, Steve’s got no problem putting his hands to work, so what is it about the idea of holding hands or Eddie touching him in the same way that makes Steve so weirdly uncomfortable?

Eddie’s first thought had been that Steve might just not like holding hands. That the clamminess of another palm in his gives him the same kind of sensory ick that Eddie gets from getting adhesive residue on his hands. But Steve holds hands with Robin all the time with no problem, so it can’t be that.

His second thought is that Steve might be so used to being the ‘man in the relationship,’ so to speak, that he doesn’t think Eddie would want to be as handsy. But, again—doesn’t explain the hand holding thing. Because Steve had definitely held hands with girls he’d dated in the past, if Eddie’s high school memories aren’t failing him.

So what the hell is it?

What’s so unthinkable about being touched by Eddie?

And Eddie tries not to read too much into it, because he’s more than aware that both he and Steve have some internalized stuff about being queer, and maybe Steve’s just working through that. He tries not to read too much into it because Steve is a good boyfriend, save for this one weird thing, and maybe they’ll get to a point where Steve will tell him why he doesn’t want to hold hands or have Eddie’s hands on his bare skin for more than a minute or two.

They’re making out on Steve’s couch one night, Eddie’s hands on Steve’s waist and Steve’s hands already halfway through undoing the button on Eddie’s jeans. Eddie starts to tug at Steve’s shirt to get it untucked from his jeans. “C’mere, wait, lemme touch you,” Eddie breathes, and Steve grins against his mouth before backing away. Eddie blinks, utterly confused. “What? What is it?”

Steve just laughs, shakes his head, and dives back in for another kiss. “You’re funny,” he murmurs against Eddie’s lips, and Eddie feels a weird tug in his gut, because something’s wrong, and Steve’s acting weird again about Eddie touching him.

He thinks it’s funny.

Thinks it’s funny that Eddie wants to touch him.

Well, firstly, ouch. Secondly, that’s a real jerk move, but he’s torn between telling Steve off and getting off. He ends up going with the better option, because Steve might be acting like a jerk, but he’s a jerk that’s jerking Eddie off, so…better than nothing, Eddie supposes.

He doesn’t bring it up again for another three months, resigning himself to have his hands redirected from Steve’s bare skin and remaining steadfastly un-handheld. And, sure, y’know, he might be able to attribute it to the fact that they spend a lot of time with people who don’t know they’re together yet, but that possibility is quickly eradicated when Steve suggests that they tell the rest of the Party about them.

“You sure you wanna do that?” Eddie asks, brows raised skeptically, because for a guy who won’t hold Eddie’s hand, Steve’s pretty gung-ho about airing their business to the rest of the group.

Steve just tilts his head, a cute little look of confusion on his face. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asks, like the idea of him not wanting people to know about him and Eddie is crazy. Steve blinks, the confusion turning to concern. “I mean, unless you’re not ready. I don’t want to pressure you—”

“You can tell them,” Eddie cuts in, fidgeting with his rings. “I’m—yeah. Yeah, you can tell them.”

Maybe this will finally give Steve the push he needs to get over himself and hold Eddie’s goddamn hand before Eddie goes crazy and gets shipped off to Pennhurst.

Or…maybe not.

Because Steve still won’t hold his hand. Or let Eddie touch him.

The one time Eddie had managed to get his hands on Steve’s bare skin, he’d spotted Steve itching at the spots Eddie had touched in the bathroom later that night, the door only open a crack. Which is pretty dramatic, even for Eddie’s taste. Is the feeling of Eddie’s hands on him really so awful? Christ, Eddie’s getting sick and tired of this shit.

Eventually, nine months into their relationship, Steve blatantly moves a hand away from Eddie’s during a movie night when Eddie tries to take hold of it. In front of their friends. Eddie sucks up his wounded pride and corners Nancy in the kitchen later, after the first movie is over and they’ve been sent to get snacks while Steve and Robin argue over what movie to play next, wondering if he should even be asking her.

“Something on your mind?” she asks, because he hasn’t come up with anything to start with yet, and Eddie sighs.

“Is—okay, did Steve ever—when you guys were dating, did he ever, like, not hold your hand?” he asks, and Nancy tilts her head.

“I mean, sometimes…? It was only because I was wearing rings, though,” she says, like that makes perfect sense, like Steve just has some ring-phobia or something, and Eddie bites the inside of his cheek. Nancy gives him a little smile. “You wear yours all the time, so I don’t know why you’re so surprised.”

Okay, so, weird ring-phobia it is.

That’s the new working theory, and when he and Steve bunk in Steve’s room for the night, Eddie makes a show of carefully pulling his rings off and setting them on the bedside table. There’s a couple of green marks on his fingers where the clear nail polish he’d coated the interiors in has chipped away, and he rubs at his bare fingers absentmindedly as he climbs under the covers. He takes a deep breath and laces his fingers with Steve’s, ready to have Steve pull his hand away for the umpteenth time.

Instead, he’s met with a surprised, pleased little hum. “You took your rings off,” Steve notes, relief clear in his voice, and Eddie nods, trying not to let the feeling of triumph show on his face too much. Steve grins at him and presses a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “That’s a nice surprise.”

“What, you don’t like my rings?” Eddie teases, keeping the genuine curiosity in his voice to a minimum, and Steve’s brows furrow.

“What? No, no, I love your rings, Eds,” Steve tells him. He lowers his voice. “I think they’re pretty hot, actually.”

Okay. Okay, so a wrench has been thrown into the ring-phobia theory.

“What, are they too cheap for his majesty’s royal fingers?” Eddie jokes, putting on a goofy, poorly-done British accent, and Steve’s nose wrinkles slightly.

“I mean, they are costume jewelry,” Steve says. “Nickel-plated, right?”

Ah.

So…it’s that Eddie looks, or even feels, too cheap.

Jesus. He hadn’t thought Steve would be that shallow.

Eddie swallows. “Uh, yeah, they—they are. I can stop wearing them, if you…” he trails off, not really sure what to do with this new information. Cheap to the touch, apparently enough to make Steve wrinkle his nose at the thought of Eddie touching him with his rings on.

“What? No, no, you don’t have to. I’m good, I can deal with it,” Steve says, like it’s supposed to be reassuring, like it’s such a big sacrifice for him to deal with how inexpensive Eddie’s taste in jewelry is, like their relationship isn’t serious enough for Steve to get over himself.

It’s just his rich boy upbringing, Eddie reminds himself. Even Wheeler’s upper-middle-class jewelry wasn’t enough to beat that expensive taste.

Evidently, the conversation had stuck in his boyfriend’s brain, because on the morning of their first anniversary, Eddie is given a long, velvety black box with four Sterling silver rings. They’re exact replicas, design-wise, of their nickel-plated counterparts, and Steve looks so proud of himself, so pleased with his gift idea, and Eddie barely stops himself from frowning.

“Oh,” Eddie says, a little hollow, “um, thank you.”

“You like ’em?” Steve asks, and there’s such a hopeful look on his face that it just pisses Eddie off more. “I just figure—y’know, because, I mean, I can’t hold your hand if you’re wearing costume jewelry, so—”

“Yeah, no, I, uh—I got that,” Eddie says with a strained smile. “Thanks, Steve.”

Steve’s brows furrow. “I feel like you’re mad at me,” he says, and he says it with humor, but there’s genuine worry behind it. “Did I screw up your present that bad? Were you dropping hints and hoping for something else?”

Eddie’s jaw clenches. “It’s…the present is fine, Steve,” he says.

“You don’t like them,” Steve mumbles, gnawing on his bottom lip. “I mean, it might take me a lot longer to save up, but is—would you, like, prefer titanium or steel or something? I didn’t really think you were a gold kind of guy, but it’s fine if you are, I just didn’t know—”

“Why do I have to prefer anything?” Eddie snaps. Steve blinks at him. The look of pure confusion on his face is a little infuriating, like he can’t even fathom why Eddie might be upset, and Eddie’s eye twitches. “Look, just because you’re all high and mighty about what jewelry is worthy of being seen near you—”

“Woah, woah, what are you talking about?” Steve asks, alarmed.

Letting out a frustrated groan, Eddie slams the box down on the coffee table and stands up to stomp around the living room, pacing back and forth. “You won’t let me hold your hand o-or even touch you, like you’re so above cheap shit that you can’t bear to let it touch you, and I’m so sorry that I’ve offended the sensibilities of his highness with my ‘costume jewelry,’ but Jesus, Steve, you can’t even get over yourself on our anniversary? I’ve seen you act like me touching you with my rings on gives you hives or some shit, like it’s just so terrible that it makes your skin crawl—”

“It does,” Steve says, a little subdued, eyes wide with shock, lips parted, “I’m allergic to nickel.”

Eddie pauses mid-stomp.

“You’re what?” he squeaks.

Steve blinks, and a long silence stretches between them. “I’m allergic to nickel, Eds, everybody knows I am,” he says. “I can’t hold your hand if you’re wearing nickel-plated stuff, but you really like your rings, they’re important to your look, so I wasn’t gonna be a dick and tell you to take them off just so I could.”

Recontextualizing every interaction of his year-long relationship he’d tried not to read too hard into is…a lot to experience in a little under thirty seconds.

“Oh, dear God, I’ve been an asshole,” Eddie mutters. “I thought you wouldn’t let me touch you because—but it was just—”

“Yeah, an itchy dick is not a good feeling,” Steve says, a nervous little laugh bubbling out of him. His face falls a little. “I—did you think—?”

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie blurts, horrified. “I am so sorry, Steve, oh my God—”

“No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you didn’t—I must’ve seemed like a total jerk, Eddie, I should’ve told you outright, but I guess I figured you already knew,” Steve says, shrugging helplessly. “But, no, it’s nothing like what you said, I promise, I’m just—I’m allergic.”

Eddie immediately yanks the rings from his fingers and fumbles to get the box open, swapping them out for the silver ones, which he jams onto his fingers as fast as humanly possible. “If I got my head out of my ass sooner, I swear I would’ve found replacements the second I knew,” he says, and Steve laughs.

“I know you would’ve,” he says, all fond and soft, “you’re good like that.”

“Let me make it up to you? I can touch you all I want now,” Eddie says, waggling his silver-covered fingers in front of Steve’s face.

Steve interlocks their hands and leans in to kiss him, slow and sweet. “Looking forward to it, Eds.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #my fic #also my prompt #i guess it's a prompt?#it was more like. a passing idea #but still

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studioghibelli · 5 months

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hungry eyes- a joel miller x reader

summary: it had been a long, hard, horrible week, and you are all alone, reminiscing of the man who always made you feel better.

warnings: post outbreak!au, female reader, a tiny itty bit of the good ole’ angst (apocalypse sort of stuff), flashbacks to better times, smut (piv sex, f receiving oral, dirty talk, creampie, unprotected sex, daddy kink) age gap (20s/40s, you can decide ;) ) reader has hair, pet names, slightly emotionally closed off joel (what’s new lmao).

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni

word count: 5k….ish

The marigold caramel of the rising sun bathed the room in comfortable serenity, casting shadows across the wall that danced like ballerinas. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have called it a beautiful morning.

The mattress in the corner of the tiny apartment was torn and old, stained by years of neglect and stiff with the smell of mildew, but it was the first mattress you had come across in weeks. You had a peaceful nights sleep, about as peaceful as you could given the circumstances.

You were unsure how long the apocalypse had been going on for. Five years, ten years, one hundred years- it was all the same to you. It had brought nothing but pain to your life, and that included Joel Miller.

Joel.

Cripplingly handsome, extraordinarily strong, silently austere, mysteriously reserved. You had fallen for him as quickly as you had lost him. Quite literally lost him.

He was there one morning, and then he was gone. Like a leaf flying in the breeze, a grain of sand travelling through a current, a stray piece of grass floating in a valley. He had just….. vanished. Nothing to remember him by except a worn Longhorn shirt that smelled like him. Whether he left that piece of himself on purpose or simply forgot, you weren’t quite sure.

Despite his absence, his betrayal, his abandonment- you still yearned for him, you still loved him, you still craved him.

The week had not been kind to you.

Four near death experiences, consistently water soaked socks, and the most important and arguably the worst of them all- the last stash of your favorite granola bars. Sometimes you would have weeks like this with Joel, when nothing in the world was going right, and he always managed to make it feel better. He was gifted like that.

“Joel.” You whimpered, stopping in your tracks. The forest was alive with chirping birds, rattling leaves. The hot sun filtered in through the thick canopy of forest above, no respite from the thick, chewable humidity.

Tears were pricking your eyes.

“Almost there baby.” He already knew what was upsetting you, and he hadn’t even turned around. He could tell what was up with a simple glance, a simple inflection in your voice, a simple sigh.

You both had been up since dawn, on your feet the past 13 hours, trying to make your way to Boston. You had heard of a quarantined zone out that way. It was tiring, hard, tumultuous work.

“I’m tired. We haven’t eaten in three days. I don’t… I can’t keep this up.” Your voice was less of a whine, more of a deflated statement of abandon. You were genuinely on the edge. Was any of this even worth it?

He turned to you, his face emotionless. His beard had grown out from its usual scruff, eyes deepened by dark eye bags. You had been asking him to get more sleep, but he always insisted on taking watch while you slept.

Joel walked to where you were, a few long strides behind him, and gently grabbed your shoulders. His large hands were warm and well worked, and after years of contracting and fighting, his palms were left rough and calloused. Nonetheless, they were familiar, and warm, and inviting.

“You can keep this up. Because you’re strong. You’re a fighter, have been since I met you.” He pushed a stray piece of hair that had fallen into your face out of the way, his thumb rubbing against your cheek, helping swipe away the piece of mud that had dried beside your chin. “Come night fall, I’ll have found us a good, safe place to stay. We can rest for a few days, relax a bit.”

You nodded your head slowly, knowing he was a man of his word. Joel gave you the ghost of a smile, pressing a hot kiss to your forehead, before grabbing your hand and helping you along the rocky path.

The air was cold and stale, drying out your nostrils with every deep inhale you took. You looked to your left, the sunlight hitting your eyes.

No Joel.

It didn’t surprise you, you knew what to expect. But some mornings you wish you could squeeze your eyes shut and open them, to find yourself transported to a different world entirely.

One where Joel was there, tracing his fingers along the middle of your back, the way he always did to wake you up. One where he was pressing hot kisses on your shoulder blades, the way he knew you liked best. One where he was still dragging his fingers through your hair so he could get a better look at you, even though it always made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

Your chest felt tight as you inhaled a sharp gasp of air.

You’d give anything, just to feel him one more time. Just to know his love so intimately and dearly once again.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl.” He groaned in your hair, his sweaty body sticking against yours. His chest was hot and flushed, beads of sweat gathering beside the crows feet at his temples.

Your legs has been wrapped around his middle, and your arms had been thrown around his neck, quietly chanting his name as he took you, your back against the soft, dewy morning grass.

“Yeah?” You asked, your voice tantalizing and soft.

Joel groaned, looking down at you. A picture of perfection. Radiant, gorgeous, inspiring perfection. In a world so chaotic and constantly changing, you were the one constant he always had, the one constant he always wished to know.

“Joel?” You whispered, your bottom lip gathering between your teeth.

He had been on top of you, thrusting deep inside you for only a few minutes by then, the Summer sun beating down, cascading you both in thick golden light. His shoulder blades flexed just right beneath the waves of sunny radiation, the age in his face showing more clearly, yet not taking away any of his solemn, sturdy attractiveness.

He was focusing on your pussy, his fingers slowly rubbing at your clit. He could always tell when you were getting close to orgasm, like he knew your body just as well as you did. Perhaps even better. He knew when you were being pushed to your limits, when you needed to stop for a rest on the road, when you were being so stubborn you couldn’t realize how hungry you were- Joel just knew it all. He knew you. The way a man in love was supposed to know his woman.

At least that’s how Joel saw it.

He’d never admit it though. He wrestled with how young you were, how many years he had on you, and a part of him wondered if he had ever made you feel forced. If you had, a part of his heart ached for you, and a part of his soul hated himself. But you were smart, and Joel trusted you more than those unwanted, dark thoughts often pestered. You would tell him, if he had ever hurt you. He knew you would. Because although you were young, by God were you smart, witty, headstrong. No one could control you.

He loved you deeply for those aspects that so many would be intimated by, and Joel knew he was done for. He knew you were all that was left in this decaying, decrepit world, all that could ever make him feel content once again. You brought a sense of normality into his life that he had been craving for so long.

His fingers were dragging circles across your clit, his cock twitching deep inside of you. You were whimpering beneath him, snapping him back to reality. He remembered you had said his name.

“Yes, darlin’?”

“I-I-” Your voice was cut short as his eyes met your own. His eyes. Oh, how you adored them. Dark and alluring and sweet and welcoming and- you felt your stomach tightening with an orgasm, groaning as your nails dug into his shoulders.

This next part. Well, you didn’t mean to, you swore you’d keep it to yourself until the day you died. But as your orgasm washed over you, all you could do was cry out: “I fucking love you, Joel.”

You pushed yourself up on your elbows, swinging your legs off the side of the bed. This tiny apartment would have to do, at least for now. You had pushed a book shelf over the door, and you were three stories off the ground, offering you some sense of protection. If that was even possible.

You knew nothing was getting inside, and you’d have a hard time getting out, considering that wooden bookshelf took you a considerable amount of strength to push over. Your stomach churned at the thought. Could you even get out?

Boston wasn’t far now. About a three hour walk or so. You could see the outline of the city outside the grimy window, its buildings slowly collapsing, covered in blankets of destruction.

Some odd sense, which danced between relief and grief, overtook you. A dream to get to Boston that you had shared with a man no longer there. A dream that felt so unobtainable, all those years ago. Somehow, by God, by the universe, by fate, whatever it was, you somehow managed to get here.

You wondered if Joel had, too.

Your stomach jolted at the thought of his name.

“Joel.” You murmured to yourself, your hand resting on the window. The thought of seeing him again, his eyes meeting yours, his skin on yours, filled you with a bundle of nerves. To have him, the way you once did, lit some fire within you. What if…?

You knew he was a capable and smart man. If anyone could make it on their own, it would be him.

Hell, you did. You figured he must have, too.

You dug through your bag, finding some deodorant and toothpaste that you had miraculously looted while out on the road, getting ready for a day you’d inevitably spend inside, lounging and thinking, day dreaming and yearning.

But that was before you heard the gun shots from down below, the heavy hum of an armored truck driving through the road. Clickers shrieked at the sudden noise in the distance, and you ducked behind your window, eyeing the outside world

Faceless people dressed in heavy armor, about a dozen or so of them, jumped out of their vehicles, heavy guns in their hands as they started breaking off into pairs.

“I want all this looted. Every bit of it.” Someone shouted, a man’s voice muffled by his mask as he waved his fingers in the air, sending them off into pairs with the simple motion. “Whatever you find, report it back to me. Two hours tops.”

They scurried off, three groups heading for the building you were currently in. Surely it would take some time for them to reach the third floor. Surely.

You slid down the wall, legs to your chest, staring in front of you. Well, that man didn’t sound very nice, and you weren’t sure what your fate would be if he found you.

Then again, was anyone really nice anymore? Were you nice? Even Joel Miller, who certainly had his soft spot for you, could have been a major dick sometimes. You had your moments too.

But it seemed like the good had always outweighed the bad, at least with the two of you.

“I could probably eat pie every day. I miss it so much.” You groaned, swinging your head back. Your feet were shuffling against the falling leaves, too lazy to pick them up. Fall was coming, spreading its beautiful oranges and reds throughout the street, coating the earth with a special atmosphere that only came around autumn. It had been your favorite, before the world turned. When you were much younger, much cleaner, much sweeter.

Joel was quiet beside you, jaw clenched tightly, eyes focused on the road ahead. It was nothing new. You had been with him for two months now, and he rarely talked. He listened to you rant, cry, laugh. He grunted, shrugged, nodded- but rarely talked. When he did, he always had something good to say. Or he snapped at you. There was no in between with him.

“What was your favorite?” He asked quietly.

You glanced at him, a bit surprised he gave in to your mindless conversation. It made your heart beat quicker, your stomach rolling up to your throat. It made you feel special when he asked you questions. Like he actually wanted to know, he wasn’t just filling in the silence.

“Hard question. My nana made a killer coconut cream pie. French silk was good. Pecan too.”

“Pecan.” Joel basically moaned the word, his stomach growling lowly. “God, I loved pecan.”

You giggled, looking at him, the flickering shine of adoration clouding your orbs. “I wish I could make you some.” Your voice had dropped to a whisper, and he stopped walking, glancing at you.

“Don’t start lookin’ at me like that.” He warned, after a long look at you. Your eyes had been dancing a silent dance with one another, an odd feeling of… care…shadowing over the two of you.

“Like what?” You really had no clue, but the look on your face betrayed your obliviousness.

“Like you’re fallin’ in love with me.”

Shaking your head quickly, you felt embarrassment heating up your cheeks. “N-no…. I’m not.”

“Mhm. I know women, I know that look y’all get on your faces, when you’re startin’ to fall. The eyes, Chico. They never lie.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, lips twisting with perplexion. He noticed, and cleared his throat before explaining.

“From a movie my brother ‘n I used to watch. Called Scarface.”

“Never heard of it.”

A sweet, honeyed chuckle escaped Joel, and he shook his head, adjusting the strap of his gun across his shoulder. His eyes flashed with something, a feeling you had never seen him omit before. If you were foolish enough, you reckoned it could be grief, mixed with a little bit of sadness, a little bit of guilt. “Yeah, you definitely ain’t gettin’ no lovin’ from me, girl. You’re too young.”

Your stomach dropped at his brutal honesty, and you continued shuffling along, thinking about pecan pie and the handsome man beside you.

Your thoughts were snapped by the handle of the apartment door rattling, trying to budge against the book shelf. That was quick. You looked around for somewhere to hide, grabbing your gun and settling on a spot beneath the bed.

It was going to be a tight squeeze, but you managed to crawl your way beneath it.

The door finally broke open, the bookshelf falling with a mighty thud, and you heard heavy, labored breathing. Yeah. Heavy bookshelf. You thought to yourself, a bit stoked you somehow managed to get it there yourself.

I mean it didn’t really do anything in the end, seeing as someone had managed to make it inside but…. well, whatever.

You placed your hand over your mouth to hide your breathing, hearing the mysterious person begin walking around. You heard the window open.

“Dammit.” A husky groan escaped the person that you now recognized as a man, his voice barely above a coherent whisper.

You closed your eyes, tight.

“Dammit!” Joel snapped, slamming his fist against the tree trunk. Pieces of bark broke off beneath him, crumbling against his leather boots.

“Whoa there, cowboy! Look- now your knuckles are bleeding. Just calm down.” You shuffled through your bag, finding some gauze and rubbing alcohol.

“Those fuckin’ liars. I can’t stand liars. Said there was a car here, said they swore they saw one!”

You picked up Joel’s hand, gently pouring the alcohol over it. He barely winced. For some reason, that turned you on. You shook your head slightly. Now was not the time! “It’s okay. We’ll figure something out, we always do, don’t we?” Joel ignored you, sulking for a bit.

“You got pretty hands.” He whispered after a long moment of silence. “They’re soft.” Joel’s thumb brushed across your knuckles, bloodless and smooth.

You looked down at him, gently brushing a piece of hair off his face. The hint of anger still sat in his eyes, although they were softening ever so slightly. “What happened to not loving me?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Joel chuckled. “I didn’t say I loved ya.” His voice was gruff. Tired from a long day. Exhausted from his rage.

You gently cupped his cheek before dropping it, all in the same movement. “The eyes, Chico. They never lie.”

He sat there quietly and reserved, letting you bandage his hands up. You were unsure if he was annoyed, his face void of any emotion, but you could have sworn a smirk swept across his lips.

The heavy footed man shuffled, opening drawers and pushing through shelves, grunting and huffing to himself. That’s when a pair of boots caught your eye. Dark brown leather, embellished with a black sole and darker embroidery. Shoes that you had known well, many moons ago.

Joel.

If it wasn’t him, you risked losing your life. If it was him, you risked falling apart. It was a loss either way. So you finally spoke. “Joel?” You croaked out, tears welling in your eyes.

The man stopped walking, and you heard the floorboards creak as he turned his head. His jeans stretched tight against his thighs as he squatted down, lifting up the bed sheet that was hanging off the side, masking you from view.

And there he was.

A little bit older. A little bit rougher. A little bit dirtier.

His hair was curling around the sides of his face, grayer than it had been, and the wrinkles were more evident in his forehead, deep lines beside his mouth. The end of the world definitely aged the man. Yet still, despite it all, he was so handsome.

Inside your chest, anger was brewing, clawing at your rib cage, screaming to be let out. You were stuck in a maelstrom of love, anger, and a whole lot of curiosity. You wanted to hit him, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted him to apologize, you wanted him to fuck you, you wanted him to hate you, to love you. You were stuck in a pit of emotion, not knowing what your next move would be.

Everything was happening so quickly. Blood was rushing to your head, white noise filling your ears.

“Well I’ll be damned.” He smiled, a real, genuine smile, and extended his hands for you.

You wasted no time. “Where the fucking hell did you go?” You snarled, pushing away his hand as you belly crawled out from underneath your hiding space. You didn’t want to think about how stupid you probably looked right now, crawling on your stomach, grunting and sweating from the heat.

“Well, darlin’, I’m sorry I got caught up with the wrong people.” He raised his hands, leaving you just as confused as before. “Was expecting a warmer welcome.”

There was a long moment of silence. “Huh?!” You finally cried out, throwing your arms up.

“I went out that mornin’ lookin’ for some….” Joel groaned softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Some flowers.” He snarled through gritted teeth, almost embarrassed. “And there was a group of these…. I don’t know what to call ‘em. Scouts? Held a gun to my head, asked if I was with anyone. I said no, y’know. Saved you from a whole world of hurt.”

You stood there, in disbelief that he was actually there. Your anger soon dissipated. Now you were left with a terrible, awful, horrible pit in your stomach. Guilt. Sadness. Love.

“I can’t believe…. I-I- you’re here. In front of me.” Tears were pooling in your eyes, threatening to spill. Your heart was beating ten times faster than usual, your chest hurting from the sudden influx of emotion

Joel took a step towards you. “In the flesh, darlin’.”

“I didn’t know if you were dead or…. or alive or….” You groaned, burying your face in the palms of your hands as a sob shook through you. “It was so hard. Being-being alone, without you.”

Joel grabbed your waist tightly, and you slowly looked up at him. “You won’t be alone without me, ever again. I promise you. You hear?” He gripped ahold of your chin, tilting your head upwards. You looked up at him with those big doe like eyes of yours, and his thumb slowly brushed across your bottom lip. “As much as I would love to show you how much I’ve been missin’ you, we got some fuckin’ asshats barrelin’ through the place. I was lookin’ for a place to leave, that’s how I found this room.”

“Where you in this building?”

He nodded. “Stopped here a couple nights ago. Was on the top floor.”

“We were here, in the same building, and neither of us even….. even knew.” You muttered, eyebrows furrowing. Life was a curious thing.

“Must’ve been fate, huh?” Joel grinned, walking back over to the window. He put a hand on his hip as he leaned the other against the wall, straining his neck. “By now they’ll still be on the first floor. Our best bet is either sneakin’ out, or jumping from the second floor.”

“Jumping?” You repeated.

“Mhm.” Joel was chewing on the inside of his cheek as he turned to face you. “You’re the lady. You make the choice.”

You stood there for a moment, weighing over the two rather atrocious options. “Second floor.” You finally said. “A hurt leg is better than getting shot down.”

“Then we jump. Together.”

Joel grabbed your hand, before stopping abruptly. He looked you over, staring at your chest with narrowed eyes. “Is that my Longhorns shirt?”

“Yeah. You left it, that morning.”

He shook his head, a smile on his mouth. “I was wonderin’ where that went. It looks much better on you.”

“Nah.” You shook your head, your mind wandering to the way his broad shoulders had once looked beneath it, the way his strong arms flexed under the sleeves. Your knees were starting to go weak.

You both made your way towards the stairwell, quietly creeping down until you reached the next floor. You saw a door ajar in the back of the hallway, walking towards it. Joel stepped in first, making sure it was clear, before grabbing your hand and leading you inside.

It was a simple apartment, but what the most appealing part of it was, was a made bed. A fluffy comforter, four pillows, and a knitted throw blanket. It was tempting. It looked soft. It looked like the world had somehow managed to miss it entirely, not once touching it.

It looked like it was calling your name.

How you missed it your first scan through, you had no clue.

You and Joel shared a look.

“As much as I want too….”

“What are the odds they’ll hear?” You whispered, a smile cracking at your mouth.

Joel tossed it around in his head, groaning. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Hearin’ or not.”

Your hand grabbed his collar. “I do. I think it’s a good idea.”

“You’ve always been a trouble maker. Of course you think it’s a good idea.” He snorted.

“Me?” You feigned a gasp, your eyes innocent behind batting eyelashes.

Joel groaned, giving in, before tugging at the hem of your shirt. “Off.”

You obeyed, tossing it off your body as he began undoing his belt. “So damn pretty.” He murmured, his hand tracing down your bare stomach. He didn’t say it, but you knew behind his eyes, he had missed you deeply.

“Been with anyone prettier since we’ve been apart?” You asked teasingly. A part of you was actually curious, morbidly so.

“Wouldn’t even dream of it, baby.”

Your heart fluttered, and he took a step forward, taking your body in his hands. “I’m gonna fuck you on that bed, then we’re jumpin’ out that window. Nothin’ else for now.” You opened your mouth to protest, and he cut you off. “Now I know you want to lay with me, talk about pie and shit, but we can do that somewhere else. Somewhere safer. Got it?”

You giggled softly and nodded. “I promise that next time, I’ll take real good care of you. Okay?” You nodded once more in agreement. “Now that’s a good girl.”

Joel’s fingers went to the zipper of your pants, tugging them off until they pooled at your ankles, quickly discarding your bra. Wetness had been pooling in your red cotton underwear since you first saw him, a throbbing deep within your stomach. But now, with his roughed up hands on your skin, the smooth richness of his voice- all of it just added to your arousal, making your head spin with excitement.

And Joel knew this. He knew you like the back of his hand.

All the time you’d been apart, all those lonely nights and long days without you, he thought of you. Embarrassingly more than he’d like to admit. Joel was a tough man, he knew he was intimidating to most, but you had always seen right through him. You had always known that deep, deep, deep down, behind all the violence and rage, there was a kind heart, and a gentle, understanding man. Although that was reserved for your eyes only.

“Kiss me, Joel.” You whispered, looking up at him.

“Joel?”

“Oh, sorry. I meant…. daddy.” You purred softly, grinning up at him mischievously.

“That’s better.” He pushed you back on the bed, climbing over you. Joel leaned down, pressing a searing kiss to your mouth. It was a hungry kiss. The kind that made you forget everything going on around. The kind that consumed your entire being. In this moment you were him, and he was you.

A shiver ran down your spine.

“Need you.” You groaned against his lips. “Need you so bad.”

“Yeah? You want daddy to make you feel good?” Joel asked quietly, his hand creeping down behind your underwear, fingers rubbing against the slick of your folds.

The tip of his index finger traced a line down your clit, swollen and throbbing with the promise of soon coming pleasure. A mewl escaped you, finger nails digging into his bare shoulders as his fingers explored you. He groaned into your shoulder blade, plunging two finger inside your tight, wet cunt.

“Jus’ like I remembered. Nice and tight for me. She’s real wet, too.” His mouth was watering, teeth gently nipping against the lobe of your ear. “Can’t wait to taste you.”

“I thought we were just fucking then jumping-”

“Changed my mind.” He fired out quickly. “You got a pussy worth dying for.”

You both shared a laugh. A real, genuine laugh. The kind that was only ever shared between two bonded people, between those who knew each other deeply, intimately, intensely.

He pushed your legs back as he slid down, hooking his rough arms around your thighs. Your legs rested on his broad shoulders, and you watched with eagle eyes as he leaned forward, his tongue extending towards your clit.

That first lick made your eyes roll back, your neck falling into the pillows behind you. A sigh of relief, a sigh of love, escaped you.

Joel hummed against your pussy, savoring the way you tasted. He knew how to make you cum in under five minutes, he had done it many, many times before, but there was something about lapping you all up, taking his sweet, precious time with you, that turned him on more than anything.

He was the one making you feel good. He was the one causing you to come undone.

Nothing in the world felt better than that.

You ran your fingers through his hair, staring at him through your eyelashes. “So handsome.” You whispered, a whimper coming soon after.

“Gonna make me blush.” He grinned, sucking your clit into his mouth. He swirled his tongue against your button, fingers digging in to your soft thighs, leaving his imprint against them.

“Oh, Joel. Oh, baby. Right there.” Your back arched against the covers as he sucked harder on your clit, introducing his fingers to your opening once more.

Joel pushed them in to the knuckle, his ring and index finger slowly pumping, stretching you out, before they sought after that soft spot he knew made you crazy. The spot he knew made you lose your mind. All because of him.

The thought made Joel moan against you.

“Taste so damn good, babydoll. So fuckin’ good for me. So perfect.” Joel muttered against your wet pussy, lapping you up like a man who hadn’t tasted water in weeks.

“Oh. Oh, so close. Gonna cum for you.”

Joel continued fingering you, hitting your g-spot with every pump of his fingers. “Yeah? Gonna cum all over daddy’s tongue?”

“Mhm.” You were panting now, grinding your cunt against his face, bucking your hips- he had turned you in to a wild animal, panting and clawing, hungry for him and only him. No one else had ever seen you like this, and no one ever would.

You were pulling so hard at his graying curls his scalp was aching, but Joel didn’t mind. As long as he got to taste his girls’ cum in the end.

“Gonna-gonna… fuck, Joel. I’m cumming!” You cried out, perhaps a bit too loudly, pulling his face closer to your pussy as he sucked and licked, not wasting any drop of the wetness dripping out of you.

When you came to, Joel had gotten on top of you, his fingers still gingerly rubbing your pussy, bringing you back to the real world.

“God I missed you.” You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him closer.

“I missed you too.” He whispered, gently rubbing his nose into yours. “I thought about you. A lot.” His voice was serious, quiet, and a little bit embarrassed. Joel wasn’t good at talking about these things, but he would make an effort for you.

You gently cupped his face, rubbing your thumb over his sharp cheekbone. “Now go on and fuck me, Miller. We don’t have all day.”

You gently reached down, wrapping your hand around his hard cock. You felt it throb. He placed his hand over yours, slowly guiding it to your wet entrance. “‘M gonna fuck you real good. Real hard. The way you deserve.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, and all you could do was nod.

Joel ran his hands down your side, eliciting a giggle. The tip of his dick slowly pushed inside of you, stretching you slowly. He pulled back, gently thumbing your clit as he watched himself slowly enter in to you. “Jus’ perfect. Perfect girl for me. A dream.” He murmured to no one in particular.

You gently grabbed hold of his thick biceps, feeling the sticky sensation of his sweat. You clenched yourself around him, and his head snapped towards you. “Not gonna last long if you keep that up. Hope you know.”

“You just started!” You teased breathlessly.

Joel chuckled, leaning forward. He had pushed himself fully inside, before pulling all the way out and slamming back in. You gasped at the sudden movement, quickly becoming acquainted with this pattern.

“So big. So good.”

He smirked an arrogant, cocky smirk, pounding deeper, harder, yet keeping the same pace, never getting sloppy or impatient. He was good at controlling himself, good at keeping his eye on the prize. And you were most certainly the prize he wanted most in this life.

“God, Joel. Jesus Christ.” You gritted your teeth, your stomach tightening as he hit deep inside you, hitting that spot once again, now over sensitive from your previous orgasm.

“Think you can cum for me again?” He grunted. “Think I can get that pretty pussy to gush for me?”

“Ohhh, God. Yes! Yes. Please, make me cum, daddy. Please.” You were begging now, overwhelmed with the feeling of being full of him, being so close to him.

It had been a long, long time. And yet, like an apparition, a god, a ghost, he had appeared once again. Just as perfect and handsome as the last time you ever saw him. You knew in your heart of hearts it happened for a reason. You belonged together.

“Yeah, I’ll make you cum.” He reached down, slowly circling your clit. It was soft and wet against his finger, just begging to be touched.

You looked up into his eyes. His deep, dark, gorgeous eyes, darkened by desire, full of you. They softened once they caught glimpse of you, but they were still glossed over with hunger.

His fingers tangled themselves in to the tresses of your hair, inhaling you. All of you. Devouring you with his mind, body, soul as he took you. Hard. Deep. Passionately.

Joel gently bit down onto your neck, sucking and kissing, marking you as his. Only his.

“Gonna cum, Joel.” You mumbled into his cheek, his fingers keeping the same pace and motions as before against your clit.

You clenched against him as your orgasm rushed over you, white hot pleasure soaking in to your senses, blinding you to the world around. Everything was Joel. Everything was him. As you came, the only thought on your mind was Joel.

Joel, Joel, Joel.

Like a prayer. A chant. A song.

He grunted into your skin, his hips slapping into your body. Over, and over. “Gonna cum in you.” He mumbled. He didn’t care if it was a bad decision. He didn’t care. All he knew was he needed you, the way a dying plant needed water, the way the ocean needed the moon.

“Yeah? Go on, baby. Fill me up.” You begged, running your hands down his back.

Joel moaned, an animalistic growl escaping him as his cock twitched, filling you with his cum, his own orgasm washing over him in droves. In that moment all you knew was him, the way his skin felt, the way he smelled, the way his mouth tasted.

And in turn all he knew was you. The sweetness of your voice, the thickness of your hair. You. You. You.

Joel collapsed in to you, catching his breath as his face rested on your neck. You rubbed his back, fingers massaging in to his shoulders, coaxing him back to life.

“Missed you.” You whispered. “So much.”

He nodded slowly, holding you close to him. “I missed you.”

There wasn’t much time to dilly dally. You heard footsteps coming up the stairs down the hall, and both of you stood up, reaching for your clothes. You watched him dress as you mindlessly clipped your bra, eyes full of love, full of contentment.

His fingers slowly buttoned up his flannel, a lazy smile hanging on his face. You knew he was content, just like you. Lacing up his boots, he made his way to the window.

“When you jump, aim for that.” He said, pointing to the pile of thrown out couch pillows, moss covered and stained with mud. “It’s our best bet. Make sure your legs are tucked as close to your chest as possible.”

“Are we going to die?” You asked, perhaps a bit too casually. A painful attempt to mask your nerves.

“Someday. But not today. I promise.”

You nodded, slinging your backpack over your shoulders. “Well jump together?” You whispered.

Joel nodded. “Always, darlin’.”

You gulped thickly. “I know you love me. You always have.”

He scoffed. “Says who?”

A smirk crossed your face as you propped your leg up on the window, staring at the earth beneath you. It didn’t seem so far from this angle, didn’t look too bad. “The eyes.” You whispered, turning to face him. “They never lie.” You pulled him in for one more kiss, deep and passionate. He reciprocated, chuckling against your lips as he kissed you back, holding you close to him.

When he pulled away he looked at you like you were the only thing in this world that mattered.

“I never should have told you about that damned movie.” Joel gently brushed his thumb against your cheek, kissing you once more. “On the count of three, got it?”

You nodded.

One

Two

Three

When you jumped, hand in hand, neither of you were too sure what would come next. But both of you knew, although it was unspoken, that whatever came next would be much easier together.

159 notes · View notes

the-s1lly-corner · 5 months

Note

not sure if you’ve done this already but how would slenderman react to the reader hugging his tentacles? and generally showing affection to it.

Reader who hugs n kisses slendermans tentacles!

dont think i did anything like before so yahoo! honestly as much as i love slenderman, thinking of a whole boat load of ideas over the course of like. 9? years, this never crossed my mind. your brain, huge

its not often that you see his tentacles out, usually theyre for his hunting as well as defense.. and to look more intimidating. you know, generally not something that he wants you to be around for..

but i think every now and then they creep out during down time with you, perhaps during a cuddling session with your tall monster boyfriend? or maybe you even get him to indulge in "play" (not that kind of play get your mind out of the gutter) and his tentacles slip out, like you guys playing simple games

the image of someone playing tag or hide and seek with the forest demon is making me chuckle, something much needed post mini cry/freak out session LMAO

personally i like to think that he can only half way control his tentacles. like yeah sure when he needs them they're out, but for the most part they do their own thing, you know?

set up down, lets get to the actual request. his tentacles are colder than him, and admin is personally torn on making them slimy or not... perhaps slightly so? like juuuuuuust enough to be just a little oily but nothing insane, kind of feels like your hands after you just put lotion on them. smooth, too

very cold. i know i mentioned that theyre colder than him, but its like ice cold. so...

basically he doesnt expect you to show any love to this part of him, so hes thoroughly confused when you grab one of them and gently press your lips to it.. then let go. then grab another and give it a kiss as well

cue a confused head tilt before his voice comes into your head to ask what on earth youre doing

isnt it uncomfortable, with the slight ooze? isnt it too cold? doesnt it at least taste a little off?

torn about it, because on one hand hes used these things to kill. but on the other hand he mostly kills in order to protect his space and to sustain his body, and admin likes thinking that he sometimes gets a bit of guilt. call it him resenting his own existence and simply wanting to be left alone while having a natural curiosity for the world around him even though he only really destroys the life around him

also he doesnt like giving you stuff from victims, and i think he would have similar feelings about his tentacles

and yet... he cant deny, that he can hold you closer with them, that he can keep you nearby with them... and that you love him, and every part of him. undeniably, you do. i dont know, its something that when i think about it, its sweet

this creature is full of resentment, for himself and the world he was put in as well as the one who made him (zalgo cough cough au stuff) but here you are

assuming the reader is a human i think it hits even harder, because youre something that hes built to wreck and destroy. and yet youve given him pause, and that was enough for you to win him over

and you never stop surprising him

im getting off topic, but im just a sap for concepts like this, you know?

"its rotten work," "not to me... not if its you" but its you and slenderman, basically

i think the first few times when you start showing his extra appendages affection he pulls them away from you, maybe even forcing them back and tucking them away

but i think over time he melts into it and accepts it...

oh how cruel it was, for the universe to give this reclusive creature a sense of longing, which has been exasperated now that hes gotten a taste of it first hand

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta imagine #creepypasta headcannons #slenderman x reader #slenderman x you #slenderman imagine #slenderman headcannons

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prince-kallisto · 8 months

Text

Crowley deserved to be in the Glorious Masquerade event 🤧🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛ The outfit was inspired by a lot of different things: Malleus’s costume, plague doctors, nuns (lmao), forget-me-not flowers, and the ceremonial robes. He already has a mask…but I think it would be funny if he wore a second mask on top that looked like a plague doctors 😭 I plan to design more event costumes for him in the future!

I’d like to make a nice painting of the second image too, but I’m not feeling very well today -v- I must have caught something…how ironic that I get sick when designing a plague doctor inspired outfit 😷

I talk more about the concept designs under the cut \(//∇//)\

Crowley’s design was initially like, a copy paste of Malleus’s outfit. I’m actually working on a fic where Crowley went to Noble Bell College instead of Malleus, which is why I started with this idea! But it didn’t feel right, because I wanted Crowley’s design to be unique. I picked out the design elements I liked the most, like the dark colors, feathers, and a draping cape. Although somehow I feel like Crowley’s costume turned out more like a mash up of TWST’s Halloween/New Year outfits…but oh well (´∀｀*) The ideas I have for those events costumes will look very different to make up for it haha

With this and Crowley’s bird mask, I immediately thought of basing his look off a plague doctors, thus the long skirt, buttons, and hat. But I REALLY REALLY love puffy sleeves, especially ones with sheer fabric -v-

Shout out to Japhers (whose both on Twitter and tumblr), because their incredible costume designs helped me out a lot with Crowley’s design 👉👈 I feel like any time I was trouble with an outfit design, I just have to examine their costume design haha for inspiration haha, it’s so amazing! please check them out, their character designs are the most gorgeous things I’ve ever seen

Anyway, I got really torn from here. As you can probably see from the sketches, I had all the elements of his costume, but it was how they would fit together is what gave me some problems. The plague doctor cape covering his arms suited him, but I wanted the puffy sleeves ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡ As a compromise, he has puffy sleeves and sheer fabric on his chest underneath the coat because I’m a down-bad simp for Crowley 🧎 He’s also wearing thigh high boots under there because I say so

I wasn’t able to paint it well (I’m not experienced with painting), but he has these…swords on his heels? Yes, they’re a real thing. It’s incredibly gaudy and I love it, Crowley would absolutely wear little golden swords on his heels. The corset is very, VERY loosely rib cage inspired but since the corset is at his waist, it doesn’t really work -v- oh well, I just wanted some pretty chains. His costume comes with a lot of forget-me-not motifs because symbolism lmao (Levan haunts me 24/7) and because of their pretty blue color (*^o^*)

If you read this far, thank you for listening to my rambles 🧎 I’m so excited to work on more event designs for Crowley because I’m really sad the staff members don’t get designs like these! I also want to make card illustrations with these costumes, but I need to take a little break 😷 a break from art, that is lmao. As long as I’m still kicking I shall be on the Crowley posting grind 💪

#twst #twst fanart #twst glorious masquerade #twisted wonderland #twst dire Crowley #twst Crowley #dire Crowley #twst headmage #my art #traditional art #KallistoPost #outfit concept

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aajjks · 2 years

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The price of Love (I)

synopsis. they say the price of love is dangerous, but jungkook would pay anything to buy your love, at any cost.

Pairing(s): Yandere!sugar daddy jungkook x fem! Reader, eunwoo x Reader

warning: YANDERE, DARK, MATURE THEMES, creepy first date??? stupid friends, yn is dumb big time, cre*py jungkook lmao, money is vv important, mentions of sickness, dep*ession, crying, yn loves her mama…, cute eunwoo.

viewer discretion is advised, yandere stuff can be very triggering so read at your own risk, also let’s remember that this is purely fictional and this does not represent bts or jungkook irl.

note. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO JUNGKOOK!~~~ I really really love him, respect him & the boys and wish I could marry him T_T…. Well, he’s my fav virgo after my mum and sister, my favourite man after my family men…. I JUST LOVE HIM SO MUCH. let’s all appreciate him in my inbox, what’s your favourite thing about jungkook? yikes my bday months finally here LMAO. hbd to zendaya too, my queen. 🥰

another note. LETS ALL WELCOME ANOTHER JK INTO MY MULTIVERSE. 🥰🥰🥰 you can send in asks for him and all of the characters too…. Also this is finally coming out after I released its teaser a year ago 😭🙏

IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, REPLY UNDER THIS POST ONLY!

*not edited* *cringe & cliche too*

Life was literally trying to fuck you over.

You slammed the empty plastic cups on the coffee counter, frustration was building up inside of you, you were so tired.

Being an adult was a curse for you, your life itself was a curse.

You resisted the urge to slam the kitchen door.

he was still here.

“I want to kill myself!” You cried to yourself, it was almost dark outside as you glanced towards the window of the coffee shop. Inhaling a deep breath you quickly tried to finish your work so you could go home.

Your mother would be worried sick.

“Y/N you done?” The voice of the cashier, eunwoo pulled you out of your thoughts, “almost, woo.” You replied, swiping the cloth across the marble table.

His footsteps echoed in the empty diner, “so…. Would you please let me walk you home?” Your hands stopped, your gaze shifted, his tone was careful yet there was an accent of desperation in it.

You felt so torn, and bad.

“Uh…” you began, turning your back to the side to look at him,

Seriously he was perfect, almost. What was your problem? He had a thing for you and here you are right now, trying to find excuses to deny him.

“Please Y/N don’t say no…. I-I just want you to be safe… it’s pretty late too…. And you know how Seoul’s situation is pretty dangerous… I-I… god, it’s okay if you don’t want me to…”

His eyelashes blinked together as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. A moment of pregnant silence washing over the area.

“Tell me… did I really just stutter so much infront of you?”

You couldn’t help as the laughter slipped through your mouth.

The awkwardness died down as he joined in.

“You’re a funny guy, woo.” You clicked your tongue in amusement. His ears turned red immediately at your friendly compliment,

He was cute, damn cute.

“So…. May I please?”

You gave him a tired smile, “sure.”

“Bye, woo. Be safe!” You closed the door behind you as you entered your home. Your feet were killing you.

“Mom I’m home!”

You called out as you took off your coat, sighing deeply. “In here honey!” Her voice made your heart warm.

You quickly put on a smile as you saw your mother when you went into the kitchen, the look of love on her face made your eyes fill up with tears.

“Mama… you should be resting….” You grabbed her shoulders as she let you pull her in for a hug. “You’re sick… I could’ve cooked the meal tonight?” She didn’t reply but caressed your hair with her soft fingers, soothing your brain. “my love, you work non stop… for my bills… please I already feel so bad that I’ve been a burden- No mama please!”

Your hands tightened around her weak body, she was your everything. You loved her so much, she protected you, nurtured you all your life without a father.

You weren’t ready to lose her.

“Sweetheart…. Please don’t cry… I won’t leave you so easily you know?” She giggled with a heavy voice.

“You better not, mama!” You both giggled, your hands still wrapped around her, a silence fell over both of you when she broke the hug,

Her gaze was mischievous as she looked up and down at you. You wiped your tears away with confusion, oh you knew just what she’s onto.

“Mama…. NO.” You laughed as you avoided her eyes on your figure, “he’s such a nice boy… Y/N.”

“I like him.” Your mother reasoned, you sighed deeply, it wasn’t easy… you liked him but your situation was too complicated for you to actually handle a romantic relationship.

You wanted to focus on your mother.

“Mama…. You’re my sole focus right now… and our financial situation isn’t doing good… I need to find a good job too…” you grabbed her face and squeezed her cheeks, “okay?” You kissed her cheek,

She rolled her eyes at you and only sighed in reply.

“I’m gonna go take a shower!!!” You didn’t wait for her to object as you quickly left the kitchen.

Thank God it was Sunday tomorrow.

This week was purely hectic for you.

Your boss was also a pain in the ass, and being a barista at the local coffee shop wasn’t enough money for you to manage everything,

God you were so tensed.

You closed your eyes, letting your body fall onto your mattress, what were you going to do? You also needed to collect your mothers CT scan.

But there was still a week left.

“UGH!” you cried into your pillow. If only you could do something that would get you lord of money.

If only.

You picked up your phone and dialled your best friend’s number.

“Hey bae!” Her cheerful tone made your brain hurt, she was such a happy soul, you felt incredibly jealous. “Yerin…. I NEED AN INSANE AMOUNT OF MONEY.” You cried immediately.

Clenching your phone tightly, you made sure to not shout too loudly, you bedroom walls were so thin after all.

“Y/N my sweetheart…. Stop crying please…. Listen… I don’t know if you want this or not but…. ‘gyeom & I have planned a- ah well sort of a double date…. & his friend is coming…”

You stopped crying and knitted your brows together, utterly confused. “Are you kidding me? Yerin?” You couldn’t believe her. “Here I am crying to you because of my struggles and you have decided to bring me to a DOUBLE DATE?!”

“Y-Y/N please do this favour for me! Please Please! ‘Gyeom really wanted this! Th-That’s why Jung-LISTEN IM NOT INTERESTED IN THIS…” you cut her off.

Why didn’t your mother and Yerin understand that you didn’t want to date right now!?

“Y/N!!!! Please! He’s pretty handsome…. Very handsome to be fair…. And he’s yugyeom’s best friend and YOU ARE MY BEST FRIEND! You’ll definitely like him.”

You sighed deeply.

“Y/N please please for me! Please! Please agree!! I just know you will not regret it! Please!” You inhaled a sharp breath to calm your nerves down.

“Okay…. But just a one time thing…”

Her squealing on the other line made you laugh softly,

She was weird but your friend. You could do this.

Yeah, it wasn’t really a big deal for you, a few hour date with a supposed hottie wouldn’t hurt.

right?

“TOMORROW Y/N! actually another thing… it’s actually your date’s birthday tomorrow so… BYE!”

your eyes widened with the sudden information, before you could respond, the line went dead.

“LEE YERIN AHHH!”

Your outfit was okay, your makeup was minimal.

You didn’t really care about your appearance, your hair was normal, good for you, at least it didn’t decide to act all crazy today,

And you were here on time. you glanced at the time on your watch and actually, you were a few minutes early.

But whatever, you were so bored, yerin and yugyeom were always late. Sometimes you hated couples.

Who have them the right to be so happy… and to be in love.

The location to where you were was definitely lavish, maybe you’d admit that you did end up being a little underdressed for this restaurant but…

You were here, and too late to regret. It was yerin’s fault, she didn’t tel you that you were going to Seouls most expensive restaurant….

She did, but you felt way too lazy to change again.

“ugh I’m such a dumb fuck.” You tilted your head to the side, leaning your head down on the table. “Oh God I regret everything in life.”

“So, you are Y/N L/N.”

Your heart thumped at the strangers voice calling out your name, you raised your head up to see the owner of the voice.

“O-OH MY GOD.. YOU ARE JEON JUNGKOOK?!” You couldn’t help but scream as you stood up from your chair, your eyes were wide with shock. “W-What the fuck are you doing here?”

The mysterious man’s eyes were dark, you could tell he was surprised but, he was amused at your rude comment.

“Uh…. I’m here because of Yerin and Yugyeom’s double date plan?” He spoke in a calm manner,

Your cheeks get so tight all of a sudden, “yeah.. right! h-hi I’m your date!” You put on a huge smile as you sat down on your chair, The man was gorgeous.

Too gorgeous,

He sat right infront of you, his eyes on your face, with a weird emotion in his eyes. “Oh my god I can’t believe I’m on a date with South Korea’s Billionaire…..”

“Oh yes I know you… you’re practically a celebrity… haha.”

He furrowed his eyebrows.

At this point, you knew you were embarrassing yourself.

You glanced at Jungkook’s face which was filled with amusement and some other weird emotion you couldn’t pinpoint.

“U-Uh! Where is the couple I wonder?” You sighed, suddenly avoiding his gaze.

Did he have a habit of staring so intensely at everyone? He actually made time feel like it was slowly passing.

“So Mr Jeon? What do you do in your free time?” You coughed again, he kept on looking at you like you were a kohinoor diamond.

“Well. I like to spend my money.”

yes, rich guy.

It was getting really uncomfortable for you to sit straight under his gaze without the urge to squirm. “Yknow I’m a barista! I can also make great coffee, almost any type.”

“I hate my job.” You had to bit your tongue to stop yourself from speaking so much.

“I know, Y/N.” His slender fingers tapped on the table, the way he said your name with such familiarity made goosebumps rise on your skin.

You could feel them. “Oh yeah… Yerin must’ve told you my whole bio data hahaha!”

When he didn’t reply or even smile back, you wanted to run.

Run and never come back again.

“Seriously where the fuck are they?” It was hard for you to cover your shaking tone, He kept on staring at you like he wanted to eat you.

Ironic.

“excuse me for a moment, Y/N. I’ll be back, please feel free to order.” Jungkook stood up, you noticed his tall and buff built.

Scary.

“Uh sure!” You laughed again, to get rid of the unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach. As you watched him walk away, a feeling of overwhelming relief washed over you,

You finally let out the breath you were holding. His aura was powerful and dark. You didn’t feel hungry at all anymore.

You wanted to go home.

Maybe you should, yes. You definitely should.

You grabbed your clutch, stood up and fixed your clothes, until your phone beeped.

You hurriedly took it out to see a text from your friend.

ye(rin):- sorry yn, I don’t think we’re going to make it tonight. 😭😭💔 plz don’t hate me. I hope you have fun w jungkook though,.. wish him a happy birthday from us! <333 love you!

You wanted to punch the wall and scream. You wanted to break your phone into pieces. But you couldn’t afford to do that.

“Going somewhere? Y/N?”

You closed your eyes with frustration, you couldn’t believe she set you up with a ridiculously rich hot creepy guy.

And now, you were going to celebrate his birthday with him.

You turned around to see him, “n-no! Of course not! Also… HAPPY BIRTHDAY MR JUNGKOOK. I’m going to, a stranger will celebrate your birthday with you because Yerin and Yugyeom can’t make it… haha.”

He smiled.

“I don’t mind that.”

Oh, you do.

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

look down on me like that - 6 (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut (w some eventual angst)

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

word count: 6.2k

contains: ~explicit sexual content~ !! alcohol mention, some mildly twisty conversations about consent/regretting sex (everything in this series is very consensual tho just wanna reiterate), teasing, dirty talk, VERY semi-public sex with risk of being heard/caught, fingering, lowkey fingerwarming, hold the moan, light choking, finger sucking, dumbification if you rly squint, protected sex (in the office... oop 👀), fucking against a door lmao 🙌🏻

A/N: sooooo excited to post this hehe 💜 i know this chap is a lil bit of a shorty but they can't all be 11k, and i'm trying to give y'all a mild refractory period before we launch into even more chaos 💀 AND SORRY NOT SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER ENDING..... i promise i won't keep you hanging for long 😘

read on AO3!

chapter five | masterlist | chapter seven

~*~

“So… it’s been nearly a week,” Jimin prompts just as you tip your head back to take a long swig of your beer. The bratty tone in your best friend’s voice only encourages you to chug another swallow before you set the glass back down. He doesn’t even have to say the since you fucked your coworker part out loud.

Using the provided scissors and tongs, he starts to cut up the strips of pork belly laid flat on the grill between you. “When’s the wedding? Have you named your kids yet?”

“I can’t stand you,” you whine, torn between wanting to kick him under the table and wanting him to share the meat he’s been so carefully preparing. The aroma is making your mouth water as it sizzles on the hot surface.

You settle for fixing him with your best death glare.

Jimin shrugs, unbothered. “That’s fine. I just wanna know how you’re handling the fact that you are now officially sleeping with the enemy.”

“Aht aht. Slept with.” You raise a finger to correct him, using your other hand to maneuver your chopsticks to pick up a marinated cucumber and pop it into your mouth. “Past tense.”

Jimin purses his lips, looking unconvinced. “Is that so?”

“Are you kidding me?” You make a face. “It was a moment of weakness, and now it’s done. What would be the point in letting him have it again? In letting him win like that?” You wave a hand dismissively. “Absolutely not.”

“You are so dumb,” Jimin laughs as he starts to extoll pork onto your plate. “I cannot believe you found good dick and now you’re actively declining it. After how insane you nearly went? You think that won’t happen again?”

“I got it out of my system,” you say with a proud shake of your head, popping a piece of meat into your mouth. It’s so hot it nearly burns your tongue off, but the flavor is well worth it, and you continue with your mouth full. “And I’m good. Moving on with my life.”

Jimin hums like he doesn’t believe a damn word. “And how’s that gonna work out for you in a couple weeks, when you and Suga are in Los Angeles together, breathing that sweet American air? And sharing a hotel room that just so happens to only have one bed?”

With the pork belly successfully secured on your plate, you have no reason to hold back from kicking him this time. “You watch too much TV.”

“Speaking of!” He pauses with food halfway to his mouth, dropping it back onto his plate as he digs into his pocket for his phone. “My comps finally came in for the show I’m dancing in this weekend. I’m not even going to ask if you have plans because I already know the answer, so you better fucking be there.”

You pick up your phone to see his text come in, face scrunching up as you chew. “Two questions,” you prompt. “One, I fail to see what this has to do with watching TV. And two, why did you send me two tickets?”

Jimin rests his elbows on the table, fingers laced together under his chin, somewhere in between posing cutely and looking like he’s about to read you for filth.

“Out of the kindness of my heart, because I am such a good fucking friend, I am giving you a chance for a little Business Proposal moment. Bring your Suga, see what happens.” He shrugs a shoulder. “One concert could change everything, you know?”

You grind your teeth together and reach for your drink as he uses your favorite show against you, humming the theme tune under his breath. “I really hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately. But I am not bringing Suga to your fucking concert,” you clarify, glass halfway to your mouth. “There is a world of difference between wanting to fuck someone and wanting to spend an evening with them.”

“So you do still want to fuck him,” Jimin presses his lips together and raises his eyebrows. “Very interesting.”

“Don’t make me leave you with the bill.” You roll your eyes and down the rest of your beer in one swig.

An hour later, you’ve eaten your body weight in grilled meats and have thrown back enough beers that the world blurs gently at the edges, vignetted, as you slip out onto the sidewalk and say goodnight to your best friend.

You’d managed to convince Jimin to meet at the place that’s just a few blocks from your apartment, and it’s not a terribly cold evening, all things considered. The alcohol certainly helps keep you warm as you make the short walk back home, the still-busy streets humming and blinking soft around you.

It takes a concentrated effort to use your phone without tripping in your current state, and you thumb slowly through your texts until you land on the concert tickets from Jimin. When his words echo again in your brain, you do your best to chase them off with a frustrated sigh.

It will be a cold day in hell before you voluntarily spend an evening with Yoongi, you tell yourself. But it’d be nice to go with someone.

You’re scrolling down your contact list and lifting the ringing phone to your ear before you can decide whether or not it’s a good idea.

After two rings, the line connects, and a voice answers. “Hello?”

“Hi, Jungkook.” You giggle a little despite yourself. You’ve never spoken to your coworker in any state of inebriation before, and once his name leaves your mouth, you realize you’re a little more fucked up than you bargained for. But it’s fine, you tell yourself. You’re fine.

“Hi— is everything okay?”

You double-blink, not expecting the check-in. “Yeah, no, everything’s great.” It only occurs to you now that maybe you’ve interrupted whatever his post-work plans might be. “Sorry, I— were you in the middle of something?”

He lets out a sheepish laugh, and you imagine that his cheeks are flushed pink, the way they sometimes get after boxing class. “Nothing important. I was brushing my dog’s teeth, actually. You just, uh, usually text—”

“Wait,” you fully interrupt him. “You have a dog?”

“I have three dogs,” he corrects, with another light laugh that’s almost musical. “My sons.”

“Jungkook!” You exclaim in mock-anger. “I am hurt and betrayed that you have kept this information from me!”

“I’m sorry!” He giggles back, clearly flustered. “It didn’t come up! I’ll send you some pictures, I promise. They’re very cute.”

“You better,” you huff. “And here I was getting ready to be nice to you.”

“Oh?” Jungkook sounds intrigued. There’s a soft shifting sound on the line, and you find yourself wondering if he’s laying down in bed, phone pressed to his cheek. The image makes your heart sink a little, and you shove the feeling away to process when you’re less tipsy. “How were you going to be nice?”

You pause for a moment to cross the street, letting your fake-hurt charade drop. “Well, my best friend is a dancer, and he was booked to perform in this concert that’s happening tomorrow night. He gave me a free ticket and an extra, and I was wondering, if you’re not doing anything… if you want to go with me?”

“Yeah, for sure!” You swear you can hear Jungkook’s smile light up the phone. “That sounds awesome.”

You linger at the front of your apartment building, phone tucked to your ear, watching cars and bicyclists roll by in the neon smear of the city at night. “Awesome,” you repeat back. “I’ll text you my address if you want to come pick me up after work?” A little bubble of excitement floats up and pops in your chest.

“I can definitely do that.”

~*~

“You need to fill all this out for the Grammy’s trip.”

The large stack of registration paperwork lands on Yoongi’s desk with a resounding thud, but he doesn’t so much as bat an eye. Though you’ve put on a brave face and moved back to your desk in the lobby after the happy hour incident, you’ve still avoided any alone time with the genius in his lab, as much as you can help it.

Today, it could not be helped. Especially given your need for a change in schedule.

“And I’m leaving early tonight.” You add, trying to feign confidence, just be direct and to the point. “I need you out of here at five, Yoongi.”

He grunts a noncommittal response, but doesn’t look up from the screen of his computer. His eyes are squinting slightly at the tracks on his mixing software. You wonder for a moment if maybe he needs glasses.

You furrow your brow as soon as you process the thought—what the fuck do you care about this man’s eyesight? You give your head a subtle shake in hopes of dislodging the idea.

Yoongi waves a hand silently, as if to imply you’re dismissed.

You really don’t know what makes you say it. “Jungkook and I are going to a concert.”

At this, Yoongi’s concentration seems to falter. He glances away from the screen, head tilting slightly to one side as he eyes you. “A date with Kookie, huh? Cute. I knew you two would get there eventually.”

You’re not sure what other conclusion you expected him to draw from the information, but suddenly your face is hot. You have to suppress the physical urge to squirm in frustration, to literally stomp your feet like a toddler.

“Can you just be normal?” You snap. “It’s not like that. Not everyone wants to fuck their coworkers all the time.”

He spins a quarter-circle in his chair to fully face you with an eyebrow raised. “Does Jungkook know it’s not like that?”

You stammer at being put on the spot. “I-I’m sure he does.”

Yoongi blinks lazily at you. “Uh huh.”

Rage flares up in your gut before you can stop it. “Jungkook is a nice guy. He’s not a boundary-crossing creep like you.” The words sting like acid as they leave your mouth.

Yoongi gets to his feet so quickly you barely have time to process it.

For every step he takes towards you, you take one towards the door of his lab, walking backwards. “You know,” he mutters darkly, “I liked your mouth a lot better when it was on my cock.”

Your back finds purchase against the closed door, and you swallow hard, refusing to show fear. “Well, remember it fondly, because I’m not making that mistake twice.”

Yoongi falls quiet for a moment, eyes searching yours. You’re a little surprised when he takes a step back. “Do you really feel like I violated a boundary?” His voice is flat, nearly monotone, when he asks the question.

You fumble for your words, for the truth; both are hard to find. “I-I don’t know.”

He surveys you with an expression you can’t decipher. “I gave you plenty of opportunity to say no. Do you feel like you were too drunk?”

“No. I mean, I consented. I’m not saying I didn’t. I just… we’re coworkers.”

“I’m aware. You called it a mistake. Do you regret it?”

“Do you?”

He huffs a dry laugh. “You keep acting like I’m not stating it plainly here. I would love to fuck you senseless again any time, sweetheart.” The pet name is biting. “I’d take you right up against this door, if you wanted. But not if you’re going to regret it.”

Your mind swims as you try to make sense of this conversation. “What if I don’t?”

Yoongi takes a single step closer to you. “Well, then I’d ask you when you want it again.”

The expression on his face, as if he’s won some smug game, is endlessly infuriating. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction. “And what makes you think I’ll just give it up again?”

He just keeps smirking, eyes locked on you. “You tell me. I’m the one asking permission here.”

You tilt your chin up towards Yoongi, suddenly very aware of how close he is to you. Something in you pulls taught as you recall your conversation in the bathroom after he nearly came in your mouth.

“If you want it so bad, then beg for it.” The words spark between your teeth as you say them.

There’s a glint in Yoongi’s eyes, and a muscle in his jaw jumps, as if he wasn’t expecting that response. Then he slowly starts to nod. “Is that what you want?”

You refuse to look away. “Did I stutter?”

His tongue darts out briefly to wet his lips, and then he laughs an exhale, a single indignant breath. Eye contact never faltering, you watch as he drops to his knees in front of you.

“Can I touch you?” He asks. The silence of the room hangs heavy between you, roaring in your ears like white noise. Yoongi blinks once, dark lashes fluttering. “Please?”

You feel some last mechanism of inner restraint shatter as you nod.

Yoongi’s touch is deliberate but, surprisingly, not rough. His palms meet the backs of your thighs and begin to slide up, encouraging you to pull your hips off the door and allow him room, your shoulders still pressed flush against the wood behind you.

His hands keep moving, slipping under the back of your dress with no hesitation, only stopping when he finds what he’s looking for: the band of your panties, which he hooks his thumbs under and swiftly pulls down your legs, leaving the lacy fabric to pool around your ankles. You shift to kick them off and suddenly realize your mouth has gone dry.

“Do I have to use my words?” Yoongi asks, voice low. His hands retrace their path back up your thighs, but he takes his time with it now. You hate the way your breath is starting to go shaky from his touch.

“What else would you use?”

“My tongue.”

Yoongi has pushed the hem of your dress up, his mouth devastatingly close to your center and his hands cupping your ass. He stares up at you, waiting patiently for a response, dark eyes brimming with want.

You’re still not even sure of your answer as you start to say it, but then a firm knock at the door cuts you off, loud enough to rattle your brain inside your skull. Ice floods your veins as your eyes go wide.

“Min Suga?” Jungkook’s voice calls from the other side.

Your breath hitches in your chest. This can’t be happening.

“Hey, JK,” Yoongi calls, not moving from where he’s knelt on the floor in front of you, both hands still firmly grabbing your ass. “Sorry, I’ve–” he glances pointedly up at you, and it takes everything you have not to slap him when he continues, “I’ve kinda got my hands full right now. What’s up?”

“No worries, you gave me the code, remember?” Your stomach twists violently as you hear the distinct beeping of Jungkook starting to type into the number pad.

You tear your gaze away from Yoongi to your lacy underwear, in plain sight, too far away that you can’t possibly retrieve them in the mere seconds you have to react.

Adrenaline surges through you, enough to make you lightheaded, to make your limbs go numb. There’s no time to do anything. You flatten yourself against the door as the handle starts to turn and the overwhelming urge to cry rushes up into your chest.

Yoongi seems to finally take the situation seriously, because in a flash, he’s on his feet, arms caging you in on either side to push firmly back against the door. His forearms peek out from under the short sleeves of his black t-shirt— you can see the defined muscles there flex and work, the way his veins bulge under his pale skin as he presses all his weight into the door with a look of real, concentrated effort.

Fuck. You’re not sure you’ve ever been simultaneously aroused and on the verge of tears before.

“Sorry, Jungkook,” Yoongi tries again, and you can hear him attempting to keep the strain out of his voice. “I’m, uh– redecorating a bit in here. I’ve got some stuff blocking the door right now. Can we just talk like this?”

“Oh yeah, sure, okay!” Jungkook answers brightly. You squeeze your eyes shut, desperately willing this nightmare to be over. While you’re pretty sure Jungkook won’t try the door again, an animalistic part of you is still too terrified to do anything, frozen in fear at what nearly just happened.

You’re only distantly aware of Jungkook babbling on about work. “I’ve got a few questions about upcoming release scheduling, so I can know what content we need to get ready. Can you talk me through the rest of Q1 real quick? Just so I know what’s coming when.”

A shiver runs through you at the feeling of a touch, so barely-there that at first you think you might be imagining it.

Your eyes flutter open to find one of Yoongi’s large hands pressed to your throat, delicate fingers splayed over the column of your neck.

It could be aggressive, but it’s not. Decidedly not. His touch is featherlight, and he applies no pressure to your windpipe. If anything, the gentle weight of his hand is oddly… comforting. A word you would never have thought to associate with Min fucking Yoongi before this moment.

The silver chain bracelet on his wrist winks in the soft purple glow of his studio lights, and you stare at it in a daze, entranced. You can feel your adrenaline high beginning to crash: the world feels muted, faded, far away.

“Go ahead, Jungkook,” Yoongi prompts, and you wonder if you’re imagining that his voice has softened just the slightest bit.

You drag your gaze up to him as he starts to talk through scheduling with Jungkook, his tone all business. He’s not looking at you, eyes instead fixed firmly on the door in front of him, occasionally rolling up to glance at the ceiling when he’s trying to recall something.

As your heart rate starts to settle, you take a moment to drink in Yoongi’s features unobserved. The line of his jaw. The slight furrow of his brow. His full, pink lips.

Your throat jumps when you swallow under his touch, and he doesn’t look down, but his hand begins to move. His palm stays heavy over the slope of your throat, but his fingers and thumb move smoothly, tracing faint patterns over your skin, stroking along the muscles of your neck and setting every last one of your nerve endings alight.

Your eyes are heavy-lidded with lust now, and your head tips back against the door, all thoughts blotted out at his touch. Fuck, it feels good.

A gasp slips past your lips when you feel Yoongi’s other hand brush over your leg, and you pray the door is thick enough that the sound doesn’t carry. He’s still talking through scheduling with Jungkook, answering questions as calmly as ever, as his whole palm comes to rest on one of your thighs below the hem of your dress, fingers just barely teasing under the fabric.

When Yoongi finally meets your gaze, his dark eyes pierce straight through you, as if to pin you to the door. He raises one eyebrow in a silent question, and the meaning is unmistakable: another request for permission.

Arousal rolls through you like a riptide, and you’re dragged under before you can even think to fight it. The dramatics of the previous close call linger— it feels like you’ll die if he doesn’t touch you right now. The fact that you shouldn’t be doing this only makes you want it more.

You don’t look away as you nod your consent.

You spread your legs to allow him room, hips tilting up, and Yoongi slips his hand under your dress to snake between your parted thighs. Fresh desire mixes with the cotton-numb fuzz of dwindling panic in your brain, the knowledge that Jungkook is still inches away from you and talking as Yoongi’s hand approaches your center. You have to bite down on your bottom lip at the first brush of contact.

Their conversation continues on, but you don’t process a word of it.

Yoongi traces two fingers gently over the lips of your cunt, teasing devastatingly close to your clit before moving down to circle at your entrance, where he slicks them in the wetness that has already started to pool there.

He keeps his movements so slow, his touch so light; your mind belatedly catches up to realize that anything more will surely start to elicit an audible sound.

You wonder if maybe this is it, if he’s just going to torture you, his fingers running through your folds in long strokes that have your core throbbing until you can’t take it anymore. And then he laughs a little at a comment Jungkook makes and uses the moment of sound coverage to deftly press those two fingers into you.

You bite down even harder on your lower lip in an attempt to stay quiet. Yoongi’s fingers push in to the hilt, long and thick enough to fill you up entirely. It’s all you can do to keep your breathing steady— the feeling of him inside of you jolts through you with every inhale.

Desperate for movement and nearly shaking with hypersensitivity, you clench your pussy around his fingers in a silent plea for more.

As if in response, the hand around your throat just barely tightens. You don’t know whether to read it as encouragement or a warning, but it makes your eyes flutter closed all the same.

His fingers begin to curl at a truly torturous pace, and then they press so firmly into your g-spot that your knees nearly buckle.

You’re hardly cognizant of the room around you anymore, or the wood of the door digging into your back; nothing else seems to matter in this moment except the weight of Yoongi’s fingers and the way your walls grip tightly around them.

Your eyes snap open again when his other hand suddenly leaves your throat. You feel exposed without it, but you shiver all over as the warmth of his palm trails along your collarbone before traveling down the slope of your body to settle at your waist.

As soon as that hand stills, the other pulls back from the heat of your cunt, and he brings his fingers up to brush over your bottom lip. His eyes roam hungrily over your face as he asks another silent question.

You open your mouth like a reflex, and you willingly let Yoongi pet the taste of you over your tongue. Your lips close around his fingers, and your gaze stays locked with his as you hollow your cheeks to suck diligently, swallowing down your own slickness.

With a heady groan, he withdraws, leaning forward to brace the same hand against the door just next to your head.

It occurs to you now that he’s no longer speaking, no longer afraid of making noise. Jungkook must have left– you can’t say when that happened.

The returning silence of the room pulses like a heartbeat. Yoongi is hovering over you, lips slightly parted, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath, and you swear the distance between you is narrowing by the second.

“Nervous?” He murmurs, so quiet you easily could’ve imagined it.

“Fuck me.” Your voice comes out a little hoarse.

“Hmm?” Yoongi freezes where he is, sounding almost dazed when he hums the question. Just shy of your mouth but invitingly, dangerously close.

Your hands are already fumbling to undo the buckle of his belt. “I said fuck me, Yoongi,” you snap. “Up against this door. Before I change my mind.”

The corner of Yoongi’s mouth just barely pulls up. “God, you’re bossy,” he murmurs, but then his arm is no longer caging you against the door, and he makes quick work of getting his pants and boxers pushed down.

When he backs off, you draw in a breath that’s like coming up for air.

Your head reels a little when you see that he’s fully hard and starting to drip precum: you’re not sure when that happened, either. He retrieves a condom from his wallet and makes short work of tearing it open with his teeth.

The thought of his mouth so close to yours again is terrifying in a way you don’t have words for. Before he can step back towards you, you turn and press both hands flush with the door. You reach down briefly to hike the hem of your dress up over your hips.

It’s mildly humiliating to present yourself like this for him, exposed, back arched, your pussy aroused enough to slick your thighs and just waiting to be filled again. And yet, not unlike the risk of getting caught, the shame only makes it hotter, in some twisted way.

Yoongi braces one hand against the door, gripping your hip tightly with the other. You breathe in shallow gasps as his cock teases your entrance, and then he slowly starts to press into you.

“Shit, Yoongi,” you whine softly, overwhelmed by the feeling of him fucking you open. The stretch of him makes your eyes roll back in your head, just as perfect as you remember, and all you can do is take it. When he bottoms out, you do your best to bite back a moan, wiggling your ass to fully sheathe him inside of you, wanting every inch.

“Fuck,” he hisses. You whimper again in response.

“We still have to be pretty quiet— these walls aren’t that thick. Guess you can’t scream my name this time.” His voice is dark, sardonic, and you grit your teeth as you look at him over your shoulder.

“Will you shut up and fuck me?”

“Didn’t realize you were my manager,” he huffs, but then he starts to thrust, hard and fast, and you choke on a barely-suppressed noise. You arch up higher to push back on him, your body begging silently for it, your walls fluttering as the thick head of his cock drags over your g-spot again and again.

Yoongi’s hand on your hip shifts, fingers splaying over the soft flesh of your ass, digging in hard enough to bruise. You inhale sharply at the sweet sparks of pleasure-pain, already edged close and losing the fight to stay quiet.

“How does it feel?”

You’re surprised by the question, and even more so at the sincerity with which Yoongi seems to ask it, voice low in his throat and a little raw. You have to scramble to find words through the haze of your impending climax.

“I-it’s good,” you manage. His hips snap into you even harder and you gasp again. “Fuck, really good.”

He exhales a dark laugh. “Yeah, I can tell. You’re squeezing me so fucking tight, shit.”

Your head nearly smacks against the door from how forcefully his cock is now pounding into your tight heat. You roll your eyes– of course he wasn’t sincerely asking. You want to kick yourself for even entertaining the idea that Min Yoongi could be anything other than a selfish asshole.

Despite that fact, his rough, relentless thrusts are enough to leave you breathless, and the pleasure builds hot and fast in your core. Your head is spinning, and a shiver rips through you when you suddenly feel his breath over your neck, hear his voice in your ear.

“Gonna think about getting fucked like this on your date tonight?”

The stifled whine you let out and the way your pussy throbs around him betray any denial you could’ve tried to make. You look back over your shoulder at him, attempting to say something, anything, and then Yoongi’s hand slips down to circle your clit and you lose the ability to think coherently at all.

“Wanna feel you come on my cock,” Yoongi murmurs, and you swear your legs almost give out.

It’s just white-hot pleasure now, and you have to clamp a hand over your mouth and sob into it as your orgasm crests, your thighs shaking violently under his touch.

“Fuuuck,” Yoongi groans hoarsely as you start to pulse around him, over and over. His breathing comes in ragged gasps that match the pace of his hips as he keeps rutting into you, until he pushes all the way in with a last grunt of effort and you milk his release out with yours.

You slump forward, heart racing, and brace your forearms on the door to let your head loll between them. Yoongi stays stationary for a moment too, the hand on your hip absent-mindedly kneading into your skin, before he finally shifts and withdraws from your still-quivering cunt.

With a steadying exhale, you slowly right yourself on shaking legs while he steps away to deal with the condom.

Once your path is clear, you don’t wait around to suffer any small talk. You move to retrieve your panties off the floor and pull them back on with the last scrap of dignity you can manage. Then you shove your dress down over your hips and cross back to the door.

You leave without a second glance back at Yoongi.

When you emerge from the Genius Lab, you make an immediate beeline for the bathroom, which is thankfully empty. It’s only once you press your palms flat against the cool marble countertop of the sink that you feel like you can breathe again, and you have to make a conscious effort not to hyperventilate.

Your mind is racing as you take in your reflection in the mirror and attempt to put yourself back together, trying your best to look like you didn’t just get fucked against a door.

A door in the office. Because you are at work. Where you just had sex with a coworker you hate.

The realization of what you just did, how stupid you just were, hits you like a train. Fuck. You’re met with the overwhelming urge to scream at yourself. What is wrong with you? Your eyes roam over your own face, as if you might find the answer hidden there somewhere; your bottom lip is slightly swollen from how hard you were biting down on it.

Can you call something a mistake if you’ve voluntarily made it twice now– and while stone cold sober the second time, no less? And what if it’s a mistake you want to make again?

That can’t happen, you firmly tell your reflection. You won’t let Yoongi get a third strike on you, and you certainly won’t let him fuck up this job for you any more than he already has. He is now officially out of your system.

You gently smooth out your hair, and then you pause, fingertips lingering over the skin of your neck. You tilt your chin up slightly to get a good look in the mirror. There aren’t any visible marks, but you can’t quite shake the memory of Yoongi’s hand closed over your throat— the way everything in the world seemed to blink out of existence under his touch, if only for a moment.

It’s over, you tell yourself again. It has to be.

With a resigned sigh, you run your hands down over the front of your dress, then check the back to confirm there aren’t any weird stains. As much as you want to hide away in the bathroom for the rest of the day, you force yourself back out the door and down the hallway towards the lobby.

Your heart creeps into your throat as your footsteps bring you closer to the Genius Lab, and you forcefully tell yourself that it’s not a big deal. You’re just going to walk right by and head to your desk to proceed with the rest of your work day, thoroughly unbothered.

At this point you wonder why you’re even surprised when the door swings open and Yoongi practically runs into you. You jump out of his way, startled— and you are surprised to see that he has his bag slung over his shoulder and his dark sunglasses on.

“Just heading out,” Yoongi mutters, and your only answer is to keep your gaze fixed on your shoes when you brush past him and continue down the hall.

You’re sure he must be following after you, and you have to swallow the urge to interrogate him— ask why he’s leaving so early, where he’s going. You don’t care, you remind yourself. Not having him around is a good thing.

As you approach the office lobby, you glance up to see Jungkook walking towards you from the other direction. He holds up a hand in a lazy wave, and you come to a dead stop.

It’s the first time you’ve ever felt anything other than happy to see your coworker. Now panic rises in your chest, a wonder if maybe, somehow, he knows what happened on the other side of the Genius Lab door.

“I was just coming to find you,” he says as he crosses to meet you where the two hallways join and spill into the lobby.

You can tell from the look on his face that he means it. There’s no hidden agenda. Nothing to hold over your head. It’s enough to make you exhale a small laugh of relief.

“Well, you found me,” you say.

“Leaving already, Min Suga?” Jungkook’s gaze jumps to look behind you, and dread pools in your stomach. You couldn’t imagine a more mortifying exchange right now if you tried.

Yoongi doesn’t dignify Jungkook with a response, only hums noncommittally as he slips past the two of you and heads for the exit. Your stomach clenches as you wait to hear the doors open and close, praying there’s no sarcastic remark coming, praying he’ll just leave.

His hand presses flat against the glass, and then he turns over his shoulder, as if he’s just thought of something. “You kids have fun tonight,” he quips dryly. Then he pushes the door open and slips out into the hallway.

Jungkook looks a little lost. “Oh, uh, did you tell Suga that we–”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, it sort of came up. When I said he needed to leave early.” Jungkook nods, and you’re eager to change the subject. “What did you want to ask me?”

“I realized we didn’t agree on a time for me to pick you up tonight. I was thinking seven, if that works?”

Your heart sinks a little in your chest as you take in Jungkook’s sweet smile, the expectant but patient look on his face, Baby-Star-Candy eyes blinking. Your earlier conversation with Yoongi echoes in your mind like a knife to the gut.

“Actually, JK, can I talk to you? About tonight?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yeah, I, uh– I just wanted to make sure you knew that…” You tense up as you prepare to deliver the blow. “This… isn’t a date. I was asking you as friends. That’s all.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says simply. His face betrays no hurt feelings.

You’re rambling, unable to believe it could be this easy. “I mean, I-I just… don’t think it’s a good idea, you know? For coworkers to date.” Or fuck, a snide voice in your head adds.

Jungkook nods. “No, I totally get it, but seriously, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. I really like being your friend.” He shrugs, as if that’s all there is to it. “So, I’ll pick you up at seven?”

Relief floods through you like a balm. “Seven sounds great.”

“Cool.” He’s already reaching into his back pocket for his phone. “Can I show you pictures of my dogs now?”

~*~

At 6:55, there’s a firm knock on your door, and you squeak as you dig through the bottom of your closet in search for the right pair of shoes.

You spent most of the last hour on FaceTime with Jimin, who did what a good best friend is meant to do: viciously tear apart nearly everything in your closet while bent forward in a straddle split, warming up for his performance.

The two of you had eventually (more or less) compromised on a black t-shirt dress with a denim jacket thrown over top. Though Jimin had derided the look as “basic”, you’ve decided you’re just fine with that.

You finally find what you're looking for, retrieving your white Air Force Ones and stumbling to pull them on your socked feet as you trip out of your room and towards the front door.

You lean down to tie the laces as quickly as you can, then flip back upright, blood rushing to your head so fast you feel a little faint. You’re not sure why your heart has started to pick up speed, but you let out an exhale as you reach for the door handle, hoping it might help offset these strange sudden nerves.

You turn the handle and swing the door open to greet Jungkook with a smile– and your jaw drops at the sight waiting for you on the other side.

chapter five | masterlist | chapter seven

#yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #look down on me like that

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beevean · 8 months

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Can't stop thinking about this pattern that has been noticed, that Hector keeps his throat exposed while Isaac keeps it covered (even post-insanity, with the collar)

Isaac is more proper and put together than Hector. He's covered neck to toe, while Hector doesn't even wear gloves. The mere suggestion is insane lmao.

And you would expect the opposite, right? Hector should be the more "professional" one, right?

Instead, we can take this as a subtle showing of the favoritism afforded to Hector. Isaac can't slack off, Isaac has to try twice as hard to keep up with Hector, in abilities and reputation. And he cares! That's why he puts the effort. Hector, on the other hand, can be more lax with his uniform: he's appreciated enough that he doesn't need to look perfect.

This is also reflected in Hector's CoD uniform: it looks hastily put together, and he still only wears one glove on his right hand to hold weapons. (and his throat is still exposed) Hector doesn't really care about being prim and proper: he cares about being efficient. Also something something Hector is falling apart but he tries to keep himself together (he cobbled together the remains of his uniform) while Isaac's psyche has been completely torn to pieces by this point :) symbolism :)

And now I'm going into full headcanon territory. What if we combined this with my idea that Dracula has drunk from both of them? Again, shouldn't we expect Isaac to flaunt his bite marks, and Hector to hide his?

Isaac is quite confident if not shameless, but those marks? The signs that he has been touched by his Lord, that He has taken life from him? Those are sacred. Those need to be protected by the eyes of those lowlife who will never understand. They are for him and his Lord alone. And this is also why he goes through the trouble of covering them up: they are not just scars, they are (in his mind) the symbol of the special bond between Lord and servant who would give every last drop of his blood for Him.

Hector doesn't care, and he may instead be even resentful to be used like that. But there is no point in hiding, no point in acting embarrassed of those marks: that would make him look weak. Besides, it's not like the monsters of the castle aren't already having a good laugh at his expense, the Lord's "favorite" General who smells like Dracula a little too much. So he walks with his head high and without shame, and whatever others think, they're free to do so: he can prove his actual worth at any time.

#castlevania #hector castlevania #isaac laforeze #don't ask me why it looks like hector is only wearing one boot in that panel lmao #anyway yeah this is half analysis half headcanon i can do both #also yes this is why i get so mad with the lack of care in n!hector and n!isaac different outfits #those stark differences make no sense in-universe #these however do #they're both wearing the same uniform but the different details are worth being analyzed

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positivitylane112 · 1 year

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Warnings : None. YANDERE . Suggestive themes. Injury [?].

Word Count : 2.6k[2668]

Pairing: PAY [Pro Athlete Yandere] x Undercover [not really] Female Athlete Reader

Author’s Note: It's me again :) I am here today to share with you 1 of my SCENARIOS THAT I DAYDREAM ABOUT ON THE DAILY.[I feel like spoiling you today😻] each of them is gonna be separate because like I said , I don’t think I can control myself with how much I write and I may end up writing a whole novel. So before I end up doing that I’ll just write one and post it and then the next and so on. [look at me already going off script and writing everything] ALSO THESE ARE ALL SURROUNDING PRO ATHLETE YANDERE. He’s my favorite yandere 🥹❤️ [HE’S REALLY SUBMISSIVE AND BREEDABLE IN THIS ONE] Send some feedback !!! I would love to hear what you think 🥰 but one of scenarios I think about the most is bandaging him up when he gets hurt. This is also with Athletic Reader as well. Also MASSIVE shout out to @bxnnybtch for so much of the inspiration behind this wonderful character and this piece. Love you ❤️

*GITTY UP YOU’RE IN FOR A RIDE . THIS IS A DISCLAIMER❗PUT❗ON❗YOUR ❗️SEATBELTS❗️*

Let’s say that one unfortunate day , you didn’t show up to his match , [as usual]. He’s heavily distracted by the loss of your presence that he’s just not focusing well. His mind is just not on the game and he doesn’t really feel like playing either. Until one of the other team’s teammates starts acting up. Trying his best to rouse him by physically hurting him as much as possible. It started off with just slight shoves and jams at first, but then he got his hands and feet involved.

Yandere doesn’t wish to fight back because he doesn’t think that it’s worth it. He doesn’t want to bicker and argue like little children so he tries not to fight back as much. To be honest he just wants to finish the match as soon as possible to go and find you. His whole day goes by without seeing you and every second of that day he wants nothing more than to bask in your presence and to delve into your arms as you run your hands through his hair and whisper sweet nothings into his ear. Every minute of his day that isn’t spent with you is a minute wasted. He does it for you , you know ? Working hard , playing as well as he can , just so you can see and be proud of him. Cheer him on , wear his number on your back , and praise him for how well he played.

But alas , he’s soon snapped out of his daydream as the other team’s teammate , the one which has been bugging him the entirety of the afternoon , comes by and *BOOM* [lmao 💀] bangs into him really hard [fucking hell ☠️]. Now he’s getting upset. He gets up as quickly as possible and starts to get back at him. Shoving him hard and cussing him out [maybe he could’ve just beat the living shit outta him there and just gotten rid of all his pent up anger , or maybe he’s just tired and wants to go home.]

Either way, he doesn’t seem to notice the steady stream of blood that was coming out of a gash across his kneecap to his calf. And the slight headache he had alongside a slowly growing ache on his lower thigh above his cut [on the kneecap] and the torn lip he had from constantly biting it in worry. Before he could though , coaches and medics run up to him and crowd his vision. Followed by a few cameramen who shove cameras in his face trying to get the best shot of his injury as possible. All of it being too much , overwhelming him. He wants nothing more than to shove them aside and to just walk out of this gymnasium and to watch you practice. Just to see you smile and hear you laugh with your friends [NOT HIM] but he couldn’t care. Just seeing you would be medicine enough for him.

But unfortunately he wasn’t able to do that as he was led into the medical room where a nurse came by and patched up his knee. Before giving him Advil for his headache. He listens as her steps grow more distant and sighs in relief. He just wanted to be alone in that moment [more preferably alone with you but you know , that wasn’t really on the menu so he had to improvise] He grabs his pillow and wraps his arms around it as he nuzzles into it. He would do anything to replace that pillow with you. He’s been craving your presence ALL day.

After a few minutes he decided to get back up , and limped out towards the now empty field. Oh no. The nurse forgot to bandage the bruise that was quickly forming on his thigh. Forgetting the pain of it , he walked out towards the side of the field and sat down on the bench. He knew you would be confused if he wasn’t there , and that you would get lost trying to locate him in the big headquarters of the field/stadium. And plus this was y’all’s destined meeting place. you always met here. He counted down the minutes as he waited for you to bust open the door and to greet him with the love and attention he missed today. He hears the doors open and he hears your frantic breaths and your out of breath-ness as you spill out apologies of being late AGAIN.

You speed walk over as you continue to ramble on about how you didn’t notice the time , how you had somewhere important to be [🤭😝] , and that you wouldn’t be late again. As you walk though , your steps grow slower and your mouth shuts as you pull your eyes away from the ground and look up at him with a confused look on your face. Normally he’s the one running towards YOU when he hears the doors opening. Giving you a massive hug as he squeezes you and tries to make up for all the lost time , rambling about how the game went , and how he missed you.

So how is it that today he’s sitting on a bench just short of a couple feet away from you watching your every move intently with a solemn look on his face ? Why is he just sitting there , eyebrows scrunched , eyes wide , lips pursed, and hair tousled ? You do a once over. Eyes trailing from his soft face to his firm chest and wide shoulders to his waist and v-line and down to his shoe clad feet. And that’s when you see it. The bandage on his knee. You rush to sit beside him . Your voice immediately grows softer and your touch is 100x more gentle as you pull him into a hug , one hand softly rubbing his back and the other on the back of his head. You can feel something went wrong as he clings to you , hands fisting your t-shirt holding you close. Almost worried that you would pull away.

“What happened?” You whisper softly.

“I don’t wanna talk about it” he replies.

So you don’t. It’s as simple as that. You try to move so that you both could be in a more comfortable position. Because you don't want to make him feel uncomfortable, seeing that he was kinda hunched over and into you and you sat straight and to the side. You put your hand on his knee as you tried to move him closer to you. That’s when you hear a sharp hiss coming out of his mouth. You IMMEDIATELY stop what you’re doing and pull him away so he can look at you. Frown on his lips and eyes glazed over. Apologies quietly slipping out of your mouth as you move him into a sitting position with his back leaning on the back of the bench. [it’s one of those park benches] You walk in front of him and crouch down inspecting his injury. You see the bandage. White with a spill of red in the middle , indicating that the wound had bled , meaning it was serious. Right where his athletic shorts ended , you could see a sliver of red underneath.

You looked up at him and with the MOST attention you could muster and said “can I …?” Indicating that you wanted to lift the shorts up just a tiny bit to inspect his swollen bruise.

Till now he hadn’t said a single word , just quietly taking in your presence that he had been denied of this whole day . He replies “m hm” nodding his head as well in the softest way he could. You could’ve sworn your heart burst out of your chest right then and there. You slowly and softly shuffle his shorts up a few inches and you immediately see the angry purple bruise which was swollen and looked like it needed medical attention urgently. You look up at him with a worried expression on your face, just to see that he had been observing you this whole time tilting his head to the side in confusion. You softly talk him through the injury and explain to him that you needed to put something on it. Or it would just get worse. He silently nods along with what you have to say.

“I’m gonna need to patch this up ok ?” You say.

“M hm” comes his reply

You reach over and grab your bag. You pull out a tube of ointment and look up at him one more time to take in his expression. He’s looking down at you with his bottom lip in his teeth and eyebrows furrowed expecting the pain. You squeeze some balm onto your left hand and put the tube back down.

“Here you can just squeeze my hand as tight as you need whenever you feel too much pain” you tell him as you hold his left [our right] hand in your right hand. He eagerly intertwines your hands together as he looks down at you with a patient expression. You look back down and start to slowly apply the ointment on the outer edges of the bruise first. He hisses when you start and squeezes your hand. As he tries to stay quiet he hears you gently utter praises for him. Making him feel warm and tingly inside. Soft praises like , ‘ you’re doing so well ! ’ or ‘ so good for me ’ But as you start moving towards the main part of the bruise he starts to bite down on his lip.

Hard.

Enough to draw blood.

You finish it up by putting a bandage over it , just so that the ointment doesn’t get everywhere. And wait…

Wait a second.

Did he just hear you say ‘good boy’ ? It was so small that he’s not even sure if you noticed it fall out of your mouth . He turns his face up to the night sky for a quick second. You can’t see him like this. His mouth runs dry and his brain turns to mush. His jaw is slack and his breaths are coming out in short , fast pants. He tries to collect himself as he looks back down at you , a bead of sweat trailing down the right side of his face and a slight red hue covering his cheeks. You make eye contact with him as you kiss over the top of his bandage.

His breath hitches. It felt like a split second , your lips skimmed the top of his bandage and quickly moved away. But it felt like heaven. His knees went weak. And he felt so embarrassed that he just wanted to bury his head in your shoulder to escape your attentive gaze. You quickly got up and leaned down so you could inspect his face. Your hands on either side of his face , pulling him closer to you so could inspect his lip. Chills ran up his spine. Why couldn't you cup his face like this all the time ? And maybe leave a few kisses here and there ? He deserves it , don’t ya think ?

“Oh noo :( what’s this?” You ask as you see the tiny bit of blood that had managed to escape from his lips when he bit there a few moments before.

Something clicked in his mind as he felt your thumb slowly graze alongside his bottom lip. Eyes fluttering close , lips parting. Effectively making him shudder in desperation. He had to make it look worse than it was so that maybe just maybe you would . . . He gives his all into trying to make himself more miserable so you would shower him in all your affection and touch. He makes his eyes water and his lips tremble.

“Oh no :('' you reply. You thought it over. Really thought it over. Should you …?

YES YES PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-

His thoughts are interrupted when he feels your lips on his. Giving him a small peck. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he leans into you. His hands are clenching around the edge of the bench and he’s shuffling closer to the edge , putting you closer to him , in between his legs. He feels you pull away.

He wanted that to last longer :(

You quickly reanalyze your movements. You put your supplies back in your bag , too flustered to look at him. While he’s just sitting there literally looking like this ‘😵‍💫’ emoji , head foggy , whole body shivering and his body sweating. Just sitting there unable to move as he licks his lips. He can taste your fruity lip balm. He’s going crazy. What do you mean ‘going?’ He already was crazy, now he’s just addicted. He wants more , he can’t get enough. After all that love you just showed him [it HAS to be love. That wasn’t anything else besides love] he’s not sure if he can even spend the night away from you.

Meanwhile you’re going crazy wondering ‘why tf would I do that?’ as you zip up your backpack and snap him out of his daze. You tell him that it was late at night and that it was time to go. He seems very closed off. You think. Did I do something wrong 😥? You wonder.

“Here just lean on me” you tell him as you put his left arm around your shoulders and place your right arm around his waist and help him walk out the gymnasium and into your car. You turn on the radio to escape from the awkward silence of the quiet car. You drive him to his house pulling up to park your car in front of his driveway. You open the door for him and help him back again , this time into his house. As you take off his shoes and help him get into his bed , you tuck him in before saying ‘goodnight’ and shutting his bedroom door and then his house door.

Wait, why are you leaving? He thinks as he sees you walk out of his house and back into your car from his bedroom window. No wait , he doesn’t want you to leave. He doesn’t want you away from him anymore. But he can’t do anything about it because sleep takes over as soon as his head touches the pillow. He had a hard day. He needed the rest.

On the other hand , you’re in the shower just rethinking everything you did. You knew he had a little bit of a crush on you but WHY WOULD YOU KISS HIM ?! Even if it was a harmless peck ?! You didn’t want to lead him on , especially when you didn’t really think of him in that way. You just stayed in the shower another half hour as you thought about how you were going to face him tomorrow.

-H

#yandere #yandere x reader #pro athlete yander #sub yandere #positivitylane112 #athletic reader #female reader

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