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bucketsofmonsters · 8 months

Text

Without Expectation

You know how everyone is talking about how Astarion has a difficult relationship with hero characters bc he felt abandoned by them when he was suffering? What if, during his 200 years of imprisonment, he’d met one? Very much inspired by this post

cw: pre-game astarion, Cazador, prostitution and non-consensual sex alluded to but never shown, healing from trauma, Astarion being sexualized, Astarion sexualizing himself, objectification, blood drinking, he’s kind of sexually aggressive in this but it's just because he’s scared and he doesn’t know anything else, reader is from a group of monster hunters that I made up who have been harassing Cazador, they are separate from any in-game monster hunters who are less Astarion friendly

Astarion x gn reader

Word count: 6k

He was charming. Pretty words, perfect hair, a dashing smile, and hollow eyes.

The second Cazador had said the word, he was all over you.

You couldn’t turn down the offer. Not for the promise of pleasure, that was the last thing on your mind looking at him.

But if you got him alone you could talk to him, outside of the watchful eye of his master.

He had you pinned to the wall of your bedroom before you could even say a word. You had to shove him back and he stumbled, a frightened, hurt look crossing his face before the practiced charm slipped easily back.

“Oh, you like to play rough, do you? That’s fine with me, I don’t mind being pushed around a little.”

“Stop,” you pleaded with him. “Please, can I just speak for a second?”

“Say whatever you’d like, darling.”

“Listen… Astarion, wasn’t it?”

He smirked at you. “It is, but you can call me whatever you'd like.”

“Astarion, you don’t have to do this.”

“Of course I don’t. I want to. Don’t you want me?” He moved to get into your space again but you stepped back and he didn’t follow.

You did your best to push past his flirtation. “How often does he make you do things like this?”

“Like this? Not often. My lovers don’t typically live to see the morning. Although I suppose it doesn’t make much difference to me,” he said with a laugh, one that felt practiced and put on.

“Oh.” You couldn’t imagine it, being forced to not only be with so many people but to send them off to their deaths night after night.

Your eyes drifted down as your thoughts spiraled and he grabbed your chin, pulling your face up so your eyes met once more, directing all your attention back to him. “Is that what’s bothering you, darling? I promise Cazador has given me very clear instructions on how well you should be treated.”

“No, that’s not the problem.” You dropped your head into your hands as you tried to figure out what to do. “God, this is such a nightmare. Listen, I can sleep on the couch, you should take the bed,” you said, gesturing vaguely at the loveseat tucked in the corner of the room.

“Come now, that’s not necessary my dear,” he practically purred at you.

You felt a little more nauseous with every pass he made at you. “You really don’t have to do that, I swear. Not in here at least. It would probably be prudent to pretend in front of Cazador but that’s an issue for tomorrow.”

“Even if you don’t want sex,” he said with a little roll of his eyes. “The couch is not necessary. I promise I won’t bite.”

It was a bad idea. You knew that much. But the bed looked so soft and comfortable and the couch wasn’t even long enough to fit all of you if you tried to lie down.

You sat on the bed tentatively and sunk into the mattress. It was by far the most comfortable bed you’d ever been in and you ran your hand along the silky sheets. “Alright, but we’ll just be sleeping,” you said with a pointed look in his direction.

In a heartbeat, you were pushed back onto the mattress and he was looking over you, his hands on either side of your head as he grinned down at you. “Are you certain, my dear? I could make you feel so good.”

“I’m sure you could,” you said with a smile, cupping his face in your hands. His eyes lit up at the contact and it was clear that he thought he’d done it, that he'd won you over. “But that won’t be necessary.”

You leaned up and pressed a kiss into his forehead before gently pushing him off of you back towards his side of the bed.

He seemed wounded and frightened by the gesture, a far cry from the practiced seduction you’ve seen from him so far. “You don’t want me.”

“I assure you that is not the problem,” you said, careful to keep your voice gentle.

He did not seem convinced, a tragic vulnerability starting to seep through his facade.

As he stared at you, a worried look plastered across his face, you grabbed some of the many pillows from the top of the bed, placing a few between the two of you.

He scoffed at the sight. “I don’t know what those are meant to stop. Not exactly impenetrable security against a rabid vampire.”

“They’re not for you. I have a tendency to get… grabby, in my sleep.”

He huffed, folding his arms as he finally conceded ground and laid down next to you. “Good. Maybe you’ll be more interesting than when you are awake.”

You doubted he’d find you snuggling a pillow particularly interesting but you let him interpret your words however he pleased.

“Perhaps. Now if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to sleep now.”

“It’s not all the same to me, thank you very much.”

“Alright,” you said with a yawn. “Goodnight.”

You woke up with your arms wrapped around a pillow from your little wall, holding it close to your chest as you eased your eyes open to see Astarion unabashedly staring at you.

He spoke as soon as he caught wind you were awake. “You weren’t kidding about being grabby, you’re practically smothering the poor thing.”

Your face warmed slightly at his words, embarrassment fluttering in your chest. “It’s an old habit. What about you, couldn’t sleep?”

“Elves don’t sleep.”

You suddenly felt incredibly foolish. “Oh. Right. So you’ve just been sitting there all night then?”

“I tranced for a while. It was certainly a more boring night than I expected.”

You yawned as you sat up, setting the pillow you’d been holding behind you. “Terribly sorry to disappoint. Hopefully, there will be many more boring nights in your future.”

He pulled back, cocking his head to the side. “What?”

You realized you hadn’t told him of your little scheme yet. “I was thinking. This whole meeting with Cazador was more of a formality than anything. He’s killed too many of our people, we need to make this deal, at least until we can figure out how to sort him out for good. But he doesn’t know that and maybe, if you’re amiable to it, I could throw in a final term to the deal. Where he has to give me… well, you. Not that you should be his to give, but I figure if I can save someone from this place and I didn’t, what kind of a monster would I be?”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you want from me?”

You shrugged. “I’d say nothing if I thought you’d believe me. If you need to rationalize it, let’s just say it’s an ego boost. Now I get to feel like a good person and you get to leave this place. As long as I don’t mess it up too badly.”

Mistrust was written across his face and it seemed like the first completely honest emotion you’d been able to pull from him.

“I don’t believe you.”

“That’s fine, we can fix that after I get you out of here.” You sighed. “Wish me luck. I’m an awful liar.”

He trailed after you as you left, seemingly incapable of letting you out of his sight.

Maybe he was. Maybe he’d been ordered to do so. You had no way to tell. It made your heart hurt, the sight of him here, the idea of Cazador’s other spawn that you couldn’t save. At least not yet.

He followed you like a loyal pup all the way to Cazador, who was lounging in a chair without a care in the world.

He chuckled at the sight of Astarion behind you. “And how was my spawn? To your satisfaction?”

You swallowed down that bile that rose in you as you said, “He was a delight. I was wondering, in the name of our agreement, is there any way I could keep him? It’s just that I’ve grown quite fond of him so very quickly.”

Cazador laughed, a putrid, callous thing. “I’m sure. He can be quite… convincing. And this would make you amenable to my terms?”

You nodded. “All the monster hunters in Baldur's Gate will focus their attention in… other places. You and yours will be entirely safe from our wrath.”

“And if we’d like to push you in the direction of another creature?”

You gave him a tactful nod. “We could be convinced.”

“Good.” He laughed once more. “Typical monster hunter. You pretend to hate us and yet you want to keep a vampire pet.”

Astarion leaned into your side and you felt a little queasy at the performance as you snaked your arm around him. “Like I said, he was very convincing.”

He sighed. “You drive a hard bargain. As you wish, you shall have your terms. Just tell me if he doesn’t behave. I can get him sorted right out for you.”

It took everything you had not to lunge at him thinking about everything he’d put this poor man through. “Of course, but I’m sure I’ll be able to manage just fine on my own.”

You got out of there as fast as you could. Even if you hadn’t had Astarion with you, you didn’t want to spend any longer than absolutely necessary with the monster.

You pulled him through the streets back to the house you were staying in, racing against the sun. You barely had enough time to get him there and pull him inside, but you had a feeling he’d prefer this mad dash over staying another day with his master.

Regardless, the whole time your eyes were darting around, looking for places you could hide him should you need to.

You wondered what you’d even do if it had come to that. Just sit with him for the rest of the day, you supposed, unless he wanted to try a risky maneuver with a thick blanket.

You tried to pull him inside but it was like an invisible wall had stopped him in his tracks. You gave him a questioning look and he grumbled, “You have to invite me.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, come in!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, he rushed in beside you and you set yourself to making sure all of the widows were fully shut, pulling the curtains tight.

He watched you dart about, tugging at the thick fabric. His gaze was judgemental but at least the emotion seemed genuine.

As soon as you were mostly certain he wouldn’t burn to death, you turned to him. “We won’t be leaving for a while so you can make yourself at home. If you need anything just let me know, okay?”

You didn’t see him for the whole day. You were busy and he made himself scarce. You couldn’t blame him. You imagined he’d long since made it a habit to avoid being seen by anyone. Anyone except his forced prey, you supposed. But still, he hid away from them, in his own way.

“Astarion, can you come look at this?” you called out as the sun finally dipped fully below the horizon, hoping he was close enough that he could hear you. And hoping he would come even if he did.

It took a few minutes but eventually he came sauntering down the stairs.

“Yes, my dear?”

You grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the window, gesturing out at the carriage that was illuminated by torches alone, shrouded in the thick darkness of the night. “Do you think it’ll be alright? The last thing I want is for you to get hurt.”

He stared out at the carriage you’d spent hours painstakingly attempting to make impenetrable to light. You’d painted the windows black, hung blankets over top of them, shoved old linens in the cracks in the doors.

He cautiously headed outside, staring at the carriage with furrowed brows. “Did you do this?”

“Yeah, I tested it during the day. It seemed pretty solid but obviously you couldn’t check then. I could bring a torch around the outside if you wanted to check for yourself.”

He looked at you like you were mad. “We could have just traveled at night.”

You shrugged. “It’s a two-day journey and I didn’t want to depend on inns and shelter along the road to protect you during the day. This seemed safer.”

He opened the door, sitting inside and looking around at the painstakingly covered windows and cracks, and you couldn’t tell if he seemed uncomfortable because he was worried about the sun or because of the sheer amount of effort you’d clearly put into it.

“Do you want anything for the ride?” you asked, pushing forward. “Some books or something? I could go get them for you.”

“Your company is all I could ask for.”

“Okay, but for real though. Never mind, I’ll just get you some books.” You doubted you’d be able to pull an honest answer from him for a very long time, if at all.

After a frenzied book run, the two of you were ready to head off, locking yourselves inside the carriage until the sun set once more.

The bumps of the carriage jostled the two of you as you rode. The flickering orange light of two lanterns, one for each of you, barely illuminated the darkened space and you couldn’t help but feel a little claustrophobic.

He was sitting, staring at you, book untouched on his lap.

You’d brought as many options as you could think of, romance novels, epics, history, a horticultural book that had pulled a snort and an incredulous look from him when he’d seen it.

He didn’t seem much in the mood for reading and under his unblinking gaze, neither were you. Instead, you stared at the painted-over window, wishing there was anything else you had to look at in the dim light.

“Admiring your paint job?” he asked with a chuckle as you continued to refuse to meet his unblinking gaze.

“Something like that.” You decided to take the broken silence as an opportunity. Anything was better than being silently stared at and you weren’t sure you’d get a better chance to ask him. “Can I ask you something that’s potentially insensitive?”

He smirked at you with that practiced allure. “Ask away.”

“Were you one of his favorites? Cazador's, I mean.”

He scoffed. “In a way. He loved torturing me more than anyone else.”

You leaned forward. “So it might be easier to convince him to part with the others?”

His eyes narrowed at you and you watched as he tried once again to figure out what your angle was. “You’ve got a real bleeding heart, don’t you?”

“We’ve been unable to hurt him for so long, failed at it for years and years. Every day you were there was because we weren’t good enough at what we did. I can’t help it, I feel a little responsible for you. For all of you.”

“Oh please,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Like I’m not one of the monsters you hunt.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Why would you be? Who have you hurt?”

He laughed a cold, cruel laugh. “Darling, you have no idea how many people I’ve hurt.”

“You haven’t though. Cazador hurt people through you, sure. But you didn’t hurt anyone, not really. You’re a victim just as much as they were. At least we managed to save some of them.”

He squirmed in his seat. “I think they might disagree.”

You shrugged, something delicate in his eyes telling you not to push. “Maybe.”

The rest of the ride was completed in silence, not only fueled by your discomfort but now also Astarion’s irritation with you.

Your driver gave a knock on the door as the sun disappeared, just as you’d instructed him to, and you opened it to find a quaint little inn surrounded by woods in front of you.

He left to take care of the horses and you led Astarion inside, securing two rooms for the three of you. In a perfect world you would’ve gotten Astarion his own room, but his vampirism wasn’t exactly subtle and you couldn’t help but worry that some overzealous patron of this establishment might take it upon themself to rid the inn of the supposed monster.

You led him up to the room you’d be sharing and as you entered, he stood in the doorway and took in the sight.

You were quick to give him a quiet, “Come in,” but he brushed you off.

“That’s for houses, not individual rooms. I just…there’s two beds.”

You nodded. “Yup. For two people.”

He eyed you suspiciously, as if the two beds might be part of some devious scheme. After a few moments, he seemed to decide it was just a normal room and took the bed nearest the door.

He seemed paler than he’d been the night before and a horrible thought struck you. “Oh my god, you need to eat! I haven’t been feeding you.”

He chuckled. “Good luck with that, there aren’t many disposable animals out here. At least, not ones you could catch. Unless you want to let me at the horses, but that would leave us in quite the predicament.”

“I mean, you could drink from me. Not everything, obviously, but I could spare some.”

You held out your hand to him, presenting your wrist and looking at him expectantly.

“I’m not allowed to drink human blood,” he spat back at you, the bile of hundreds of years of resentment lacing his words. “Cazador doesn’t allow it.”

“You’re not his anymore. He gave control over to me and I say you can do whatever you’d like and that you don’t take orders from anyone anymore. The offer stands.” You went to withdraw your hand until his hunger bested his hesitation but he grabbed your wrist, stopping you from pulling away.

“Well,” he said with a sly smile. “As long as you’re offering, I would be a fool to turn you down.”

It was so strange how quickly it happened, how easily he could slip right back into that faux confidence.

He leaned towards you and you backed away at the hungry look in his eyes, one you were more than familiar with.

“If you really want to I’m sure there’s ways we could make this a more rewarding experience for you,” he said and in a heartbeat he maneuvered himself over you, his hands interlaced with yours and holding you to the mattress.

You pulled yourself back in an instant, leaning against the headboard as you presented your wrist to him once more.

You didn’t fault him for it. After years of surviving with it, of course he would keep trying to draw you in with his sexuality. The instinct couldn’t be snuffed out overnight.

You’d bat away his attempts as many times you needed to, try and make him understand. You weren’t sure if it would ever work, not fully, but you’d keep trying.

“It’s easier this way,” you said in explanation, giving him something to latch onto that didn’t feel like rejection.

He rolled his eyes. “Easier, I’m sure. Typical, I got a master who’s allergic to fun.”

“I’m not your master. You can do as you please, could leave now if you wanted.”

“And go where?” he snapped. “You can pretend if you must but I know what I am. I know where I stand. I am a lot of things, but I am no fool.”

“I know.”

He studied you for a moment, eyes daring across your face before he pulled your wrist towards him, digging his teeth into your flesh.

The sharp pain lasted for a heartbeat before it faded away to a dull ache. He lapped at the open wound, his put-on demeanor disappearing as he got lost in it.

He cradled your hand like it was a lifeline. In a way, you supposed it was.

You could feel yourself getting lightheaded as he fed but you refused to stop him. You would not command it of him, would rather die than force him into it. You let out a quiet whine, your form slumping back into the bed.

He drew away immediately and your blood began pouring onto the white sheets of the bed.

A moment of panic reflected in his red eyes before he grabbed the corner of the sheets, wrapping them around your wound.

“There,” he said, his voice quieter than his normal bravado. “Should keep you from bleeding out.”

Your eyes were locked on his collarbone, a dark bruise becoming visible as your blood fled through his previously starved body. The longer you looked, the more of them you could see, peeking out from under his clothes.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you said in hushed tones, hands moving to reach for him before stopping in their tracks, unsure if your touch would be wanted.

He was otherwise preoccupied, his eyes alight with something entirely new. He looked stronger, livelier. There was a warmth to his cheeks you’d never seen before.

You resisted the urge to touch him, to see if he’d become warmer as your blood had begun to run through him, bringing a new light to his eyes.

“You should get some rest,” he said, looking down at you lying exhausted and drained on the bed. “You certainly need it.”

You barely had time to laugh at his comment before you’d drifted off.

The ride back was as quiet as it had been the day before, if a little less uncomfortable. Astarion still stared for much of it but he at least pretended to read his book. The healthy flush to his cheeks seemed to come with a bit of newfound comfort and ease around you that made you puff up with pride, even if you still felt a little woozy from the night before.

“Here we are!” you said as a knock sounded on the door, opening it and leading him inside your home. It was an old manor of your family's, not particularly big, right on the edge of nowhere, and perhaps falling apart just a little but more than suitable for your purposes. “It’s a little bit of a mess but I kind of like it that way. Come on, I’ll show you your room.”

You decided to put him in a room that was just a few doors down from your own, pointing out just where he could go to find you if he needed anything.

You laid down to sleep once you got him situated, more exhausted than you typically were at this time of night. Despite how tired you were, presumably from the blood loss, you had to fight the urge to go and check on Astarion just one more time.

You hadn’t known him for long but you’d already developed an intensely protective instinct towards the man.

You did your best to put him out of your mind when a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” you called out. You made no attempt to suppress your smile when he peeked in the doorway.

“I think I’ve grown accustomed to your company,” he said sheepishly, and for once it didn’t seem like he was trying to seduce you. He seemed worn down, looking just as tired as you felt, a defeated air present on his face.

You were too tired for subtlety, opening your arm to him and muttering a sleepy, “Just come here.”

He seemed grateful to not have to explain himself. To not have to ask.

He sat on the bed, looking down at you where you lay.

“No pillow this time?” he asked in that snide voice he used so often.

“I can if you want. Just thought you might appreciate the closeness.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Fine, I’ll be your little pillow to hug. Fair warning though, I run cold.”

You tried and failed to suppress a yawn as he got into bed beside you and you wrapped your arms softly around him. “I don’t mind. G’night.”

“Goodnight, my dear.”

Just like that, it became a bit of unspoken habit between the two of you. You felt it might honestly kill him to comment on it, to ask you for affection. But with no words, no pleasantries, there he was every night, beside you.

One night, about a week into his residence in your home, he seemed more restless than normal, fiddling endlessly with your hand, incapable of sitting still. You turned to him with a pointed look. “Come on, out with it, it’s not good to go to bed with things left unsaid.”

He scoffed. “Why not?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, what if I die in my sleep or something.”

“If you die in your sleep, I think I might have bigger problems than things I didn’t say to you. Namely, some monster hunters who might take issue with the vampire you died next to.”

You shook your head. “No, I already told them about you, they wouldn’t hurt you.”

That seemed to take him by surprise, pulling back a bit at your words. “You did?”

“Of course I did. Now come on, out with it, what’s going on it that head of yours?”

He sighed dramatically and flopped back on his pillow. “It’s really nothing.”

“Not if it's bothering you. I want to help.”

“Did you mean it?” he blurted out, like the words had to be forced out of him quickly or they wouldn’t come out at all. “When you said you wanted to save the rest of them too?”

“Of course I did. And I will. At least if I have anything to say about it,” you said quietly, your stomach turning at the thought of the other spawn you’d left behind.

He turned from you as if you’d slapped him. “Right. I’m going to sleep in my own room. I should’ve been in there anyway, this was silly. Goodnight, darling.”

You chased after him in a heartbeat, catching up at him before he’d even managed to open his door. “Wait, what did I do? Astarion?”

He was an unstoppable force, storming into his own room.

“I don’t understand what I did,” you pleaded with him, desperate to fix it. You raked through your conversation, trying to dissect every word spoken, every facial expression. You found nothing. Shouldn’t he be happy you wanted to help them? It didn’t make sense to you.

He sat on his bed, one he’d never slept in, arms crossed and brows furrowed. When he spoke, there was a faux casualty to it, like he was trying to pretend none of it mattered to him. “I’m just making room for the next stray you let into your bed.”

You sat next to him, careful to keep your distance as you moved your head down to try and catch his eye. “You know I’m not replacing you, right?”

He huffed in response, turning away from you again.

You made sure to keep your tone gentle and soft. “You know I wouldn’t let just any vampire spawn sleep next to me, right? It’s because I care about you, it’s not just because you’re there. No one is replacing you and I promise there is enough of me to help people while also still being there for you. I will save as many of them as I can until I can rid this world of Cazador but you’re not just Cazador’s victim, you’re my friend.”

He turned to you suddenly. “Stop saying that. Stop saying you’re going to hunt down Cazador. If he catches wind of any of this you’re dead. At least, if you’re lucky you’ll be dead. And then where will I be?”

“Hey, I’ve been doing this a long time. I know what I’m doing, we all know what we’re doing. He’s not going to get me.”

“That’s why you made that deal, is it? Did all the other hunters he slaughtered know what they were doing too? You aren’t a threat to him, you are a nuisance. You need to stop,” he snarled.

You couldn’t stop. You both knew that, could see it as clear as day.

Instead, you just said a quiet, “Come on, come to bed,” and walked out of the room.

He trailed behind you, the unendable argument weighing heavy on the both of you, no more words spoken as he slipped under the sheets. You gave his hand a squeeze, trying your best to reassure him despite knowing it would never work. Not as long as he was still out there.

And then, as he leaned into your space, head brushing against your arm, something he’d been getting slowly more comfortable doing, something occurred to you that should have many days ago, back when he’d first arrived here. It was strange that he was here, now. Not just because of his uncomfortability with any sort of nonsexual closeness, but because of when it was.

Not only did elves not sleep the same way nor as long as humans did, but vampires slept during the day typically, to enjoy the night as best they could.

“I’m going to start sleeping during the day,” you said decisively. “That way we can keep doing this,” you said as you gestured around vaguely, “and you can go out, can do things with your waking hours. I’m sorry it didn’t occur to me sooner.”

His eyes widened. “You’d really let me leave?”

His surprise felt like a shard of ice through your chest. “Of course I would. You can do whatever you want. I’ll even do my best to help if you’ll ask me for it.” Another horrible thought struck you. “Wait, you didn’t think you could leave and you’ve been with me most nights. What have you been eating?”

“Whatever I could find. I make for wonderful pest control.”

Your heart sank. You should’ve considered this sooner, never put him through any of this.

“Here, drink from me,” you said, sticking out your hand. “I can get some bigger animals for you, keep them here so you don’t have to hunt for them if you’d prefer, but for now I will have to do.”

He hesitated, although his gaze was less suspicious than the last time you’d done this. Instead, he looked nervous. “You’ve… you’ve already done so much for me. I shouldn’t.”

“Astarion, you’re starving,” you said quietly, trying to reason with him.

“I’d rather not push it. Eventually, even your charity will run out.”

You shook your head. “It will not. It’s fine if you don’t believe me, I know it’ll take time, but I will keep being here for you until it sinks in. Promise.”

He laughed quietly, seeming more for himself than for you, something that had been happening more and more lately. “You underestimate my distrust, I think I could outlast you.”

You smiled back. “Challenge accepted. But until then, you need to eat.”

You held out your wrist for him, the marks from the last time just beginning to fade. He took it, gingerly, bringing it slowly to his mouth and watching your face for any apprehension.

You showed none, instead giving him a soft smile. “Go on. I don’t bite.”

That got a real laugh out of him. “That’s not funny.”

He pressed a soft kiss into your skin before sinking his fangs in, that sharp pain coming with a flutter of warmth inside your chest.

He was slower this time, more intentional as he drank. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he wasn’t as hungry or if it was because it felt less like his meal might be ripped away from him unceremoniously.

He didn’t get as lost in it this time, eyes flicking up to meet yours, checking in on you.

You didn’t even get the chance to try and tell him you were feeling woozy before he drew back, pulling a handkerchief you hadn’t even noticed off the side table to wrap around your wrist.

“Wouldn’t want to get our sheets all bloody,” he said as he knotted it tight around your wound.

Your hands moved slowly as soon as he released them, reaching up towards his face and giving him plenty of time to back away.

For a moment, when he first saw you reaching for him, he pulled back and you were ready to retreat and shower him in endless apologies when, as suddenly as he’d moved away, he leaned into your touch.

Gentle hands cradled his face, ones he’d flinched away from but a moment before. He leaned into them openly now, unabashedly, making a home between your palms.

He was warmer like this, with your blood rushing through him.

You pulled him closer as his head tucked right under yours, your fingers carding gently through his hair.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, barely loud enough to reach his ears, and you had no idea if he believed you.

You doubted it, doubted that you’d been able to break through all those years of his living hell so quickly. His walls had been carefully constructed for a reason, and you understood why he was so hesitant to break them down. You couldn’t blame him, would never blame him.

It didn’t really matter. You’d keep trying either way.

#astarion #astarion x reader #vampire x reader #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion needs a hug

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 10 months

Text

snowfall

summary: when she’s young and in between foster families, she meets a scrawny kid named Simon. Simon sits to the side while the other kids play, and she gives him her sandwich. When he leaves, forced to go back to his dad, she feels bad for him.

Then, when she gets older, she realizes that Simon was the lucky one. He made it out.

notes: based on the song snowfall, bc I’ve been listening to it and thinking about this fic a lot lately

warnings: mentions of abuse, human trafficking and childhood trauma. Violence. Allusions to smut? Afab!reader

taglist: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins (hmu to be added to any taglist!)

masterlist | requests are OPEN!

You’re back to square one, where you always end up when a foster family lets you go. A big, grey house that was built in the sixties and not once painted afterwards, that’s square one. Makeshift beds and damp rooms, showers that smell of piss and food that has the consistency of cardboard.

The house is so terrible on the inside that everyone flees into the parking lot, a barely better place to be. In the dirt-poor areas of Manchester, it’s all anyone can ask for. The younger kids play with chalk or run around, chasing each other, while the ones your age pass cigarettes and other stuff to each other.

None of you know each other’s names, but you’ve all seen each other in passing. Kids that were left on their own, that don’t trust easy won’t talk to each other either. Not really.

It’s rare to see a new face, so the teen sitting off to the side while the others talk catches you by surprise.

He’s massively tall already, but scrawny as hell, his hair in the awkward stage between short and being grown out. His eyes flit around, meeting no one else’s.

“Haven’t seen you before.” You greet, and he barely looks up. You offer him your name, and he pauses before he responds.

“Simon.” He says finally. There’s a short silence, broken by his rumbling stomach, and you hand him your sandwich without thinking twice. You’re not a big fan of tomatoes. He hesitates, inspecting it before he takes a bite. He barely nods as you tell him you don’t like tomatoes, and you doubt he even heard you.

“What are you doing here? Never seen you before.” You attempt, trying to make conversation. He shrugs in response, and you don’t pry further.

Simon sticks to you like glue in the days afterwards, a silent shadow that towers over you. Timmy, a kid that joined a gang after feeling overly confident, tries to approach you twice, but apparently, Simon’s glower is more intimidating than his stature.

After a week and a half, a social worker interrupts a game of Uno between you and Simon, pulling him away for a conversation. That usually means one of two things: going home, or going to a family of strangers.

You never get to find out which one it is, because Simon doesn’t say goodbye. You tell yourself that he made it home, or at least made it out. He seems like the type.

***

Against your hopes, and in line with all odds, you don’t make it out. Bouncing between foster families leaves you frustrated, angry and alone. A recipe for disaster, and you know it. Two years after Simon left the grey house that smelled like a germaphobe’s nightmare, you did as well.

Barely eighteen, with no one to back you up and not a single penny on your name, that went to shit quicker than you might have thought, and you found yourself exactly where you did not want to end up: the crime scene of Manchester.

It started off with little favors. Timmy convinced you. He said it wasn’t hard to sell drugs. That you’d only have to do it a few times, and then you’d have enough money to start yourself off with a real job. Something honest.

Something that would finally get you some real security. A sense of permanence.

Over the years, little favors turned into bigger favors.

Timmy, of course, didn’t know batshit about anything, and he certainly did not care to look into things more than he had to for you. And by the time your idiot, barely not-adolescent brain realized that, you were in too deep.

You’d done everything wrong, because selling drugs for a few days ‘wouldn’t hurt anyone’.

That was how you ended up as the cliché character of anti-everything prevention movies they showed you, back in the grey house. Abused, beaten-up, trafficked, sold, and not even out of your twenties.

Each time you thought about it, you wanted to laugh at yourself, to try and stop yourself from missing the gray house and the exhausted social workers that weren’t paid enough to care for any of you.

Just this time, you couldn’t go back to the gray house. You weren’t a child anymore. This time, people came for you to make sure that you’d pay them back what you owed them. Technically, what Timmy owed them.

They, whoever they were, took you away from Manchester, the only semblance of home you’d ever known. You found yourself in an abandoned cargo hall, freezing cold. From what you could see, it was snowing outside, the chill creeping inside. The girl next to you was out like a light, either from drugs, exhaustion, the cold, or a combination of all three.

You could make peace with the fact that you would never get out. You could just accept it, like you’d accepted everything else in your life. A voice in your head screamed that it wasn’t fair, and it felt like that scream was becoming more and more real. There was a ridiculous notion in the back of your mind, telling you to get up.

It bled into the screech from the gates of the cargo hall, protesting as they were opened. Your captors pointed their guns, but thick, white smoke filled the building, and you felt yourself become suddenly sleepy.

The last thing you saw were shadowy figures storming the hall, gunfire ringing out, smoke filling your nose and mouth.

***

When you came to, the smoke had dissipated, but you were still in the cargo hall. A group of men in camouflage walked around the hall, checking the men that were lying on the floor. One of them approached you and the others.

Almost automatically, you slinked backwards, out of his reach, but he gave you a soft smile.

He was young, too young to be in a place like this, with a sweet expression on his face that felt too saccharine to belong in the midst of this violence.

“I’m Gaz.” He said. “I’m with the British army, and we’re here to take you home. Are you hurt?”

Varying reactions came from the people around you, and you felt yourself numbly nodding. Home. Had a God heard your prayer and then decided to turn it into a joke?

The doctors arrived a while later, taking a look at everyone that had been with you. Some of the girls around you were drug addicts, and going into withdrawal was never pretty. The cargo hall quickly filled with the stench of vomit and cold sweat, but it meant that you got the time to look at the men that had stormed the hall. A gruff man with sideburns, a Scot with a mohawk that was chattering away with Gaz and-

He was hulking, a mountain that wore a skull instead of a face. You’d never met someone like him in your life, but he paused when he saw you, and you knew that he’d seen you before, this behemoth of a man.

***

It takes two more days before you’re back in England, but it doesn’t feel like a homecoming. Some of the girls have people waiting for them, parents, children, boyfriends, girlfriends to run into their arms and hold. Some are like you. No one comes, and they leave on their own.

You want to follow them. You can’t go back to Manchester. You’ll only return for your papers, if those still exist, and then you’ll leave.

You’re about to finally lift your feet from the cold, concrete floor when you feel a pair of eyes burning into your back.

Turning around, you see it’s the one they call Ghost. He’s standing off to the side, and it reminds you of something. You can’t figure out what it is, even though you try so so hard to just remember.

“Thank you for getting us out of there.” You blurt out, and he looks like he wants to say something, his jaw almost cramping together as he makes a tiny movement. You think it’s towards you.

“I owed you for the sandwich.” He says. The shrug looks forced, and you know that he can’t bring himself to say something more honest. “No tomatoes, of course.”

The seconds it takes you to understand seem to tick by outside of your brain, like a clock hammering with each moment passed. Then, your jaw falls slack.

“Simon?” you ask, too loudly, and the Scot named Soap snaps his head around to stare at you.

He doesn’t reply, and he doesn’t have to. You recognize his height, his eyes, the awkward standing off to the side so suddenly that it hits you like a fucking train. How couldn’t you see it before?

This is Simon. The kid that-

“You left without saying fucking anything!” you accuse, and you’re sure the others think you’re exes.

He just nods, and that almost infuriates you. But he made it out. He made something of himself, and you have to respect that. It’s all you want, always slipping away from your grasp, and Simon got it. Carved it out for himself, by the looks of it.

And finally, after an eternity, Simon steps forward and holds out a bag with the yellow-and-green subway logo on it.

“Hope you like it.” He mumbles, and it’s an almost adorable gesture. There’s no tomatoes, as he promised. Someone remembered something from your childhood.

You take the bag, and then you take the step separating you and hug him tightly. Are you overstepping a boundary? Is he going to push you off roughly?

He doesn’t hug you back, but he does allow you to wrap your arms around him (or, as much as you can do that with his new size).

His teammates stare, but you don’t let go. Not for a while.

“You got a place to stay?” he asks, when the others have gotten over the shock of your interaction. There’s genuine concern in his eyes, and a part of you hopes that you’re special in this, because you helped him too. Somehow.

“McDonalds is always open, and I’ve got…” you reach into your pocket, finding a crumpled note. “Enough for a large drink.”

He shakes his head. He offers his apartment, his home up to you and you should say no because he could traffic you, or rape you, or hurt you just enough to make you drag yourself back to Timmy.

You get into the car with him, and your mind screams danger. Your gut’s feeling alright though, so you ignore it.

The first change beyond the obvious of his massive frame that you notice is that he’s gotten even quieter. While you drag yourself up the dark staircase with some effort, he stays true to his name, not a single scrape coming from his combat boots.

In the apartment, he switches on the light, and you take in the spartan interior. A small kitchen, a sofa, a TV, a coffeetable with a mug still on it. No dinnertable, but three pictures on the refrigerator.

A young boy, a woman that reminds you of the younger Simon (maybe his mother?) and his teammates. Gaz, Soap, the older guy, two men that you don’t recognize, standing in scenery that looks almost tropical.

He lets you stare, before he quietly shows you the bathroom. You let the lock click behind you, even though you know that wouldn’t make much of an obstacle for the person he’s become.

You shower as quickly as you can, slipping back into your underwear. You hesitate for a moment, and then you grab the big, fluffy bathrobe hanging over the towel rack. Someone had vomited on your shirt, and you refused to put it on again.

The robe was too big for you, black with white skulls on it, and you highly doubted that Simon had bought it for himself. Maybe the Scot that cracked jokes with, or rather at him, had bought it for him and he’d caved to using it.

When you walked out, Simon was pulling clean sheets over the bed in his bedroom. He lifted his head when he heard you, and even through the balaclava, you knew he was lifting a brow at you.

“You’re wearing Soap’s bathrobe.” He commented.

“Someone vomited on my shirt.”

Simon did not reply, but he did turn around to rummage in his closet, throwing you one of his old shirts. You went back into the bathroom to put it on, and decided to not comment on the fact that it looked like a midi dress on you.

He closed the door behind him when he went to sleep, and the click of the lock felt a little insulting to you. Yet, you couldn’t expect him to trust you.

Sleep did not come easy to you, and when it did, you only had nightmares.

After a particularly bad one, you woke up with a start, only to find yourself face-to-face with one of your captors, face hid behind a balaclava, and you screamed.

Only after a few moments did you realize that it was Simon.

Between your panicked apologizing, and his nervous tea-making, it took a while for either of you to speak.

“I’m sorry for not telling you I was leaving.” He said finally, sitting across from you on the sofa, and still managing to take up three fourths of it.

“You didn’t have to. You didn’t know me.” You replied.

“I clung to you.” He said under his breath, as if it was an admittance of weakness.

“I liked it. Made me feel less alone.”

Your hands found each other in the dark, his fingers curling around yours and you swore that you could feel his heart hammer in his wrist.

“I don’t want to go to Manchester alone.” You whispered. It was an admittance of defeat.

“I’ll go with you.” Simon replied. He had no incentive to.

In the dark, it didn’t feel as preposterous or dangerous to move closer to him. He stilled when your knee bumped against his leg, and you held your breath, waiting for his rejection.

It didn’t come, only a shaky breath from Simon that gave the smallest of hints about how he was feeling. His hand was still holding yours, warm and a little rough, but it felt real. It made you move closer, to try and lean into his touch.

His hand slipped from yours, and for a moment, you thought that you’d done something wrong, but then you felt it on your waist, and Simon pulled you onto his lap. Your hands flew to his chest to steady yourself, and you could feel his hammering heart beating under his shirt.

Simon was so massive that he engulfed you, drowned out everything around you, and you loved it. There was nothing but him, and that didn’t scare you. It made you feel unfathomably safe.

He hugged you suddenly, a mirror gesture to what you’d done at the airport, his thick arms wrapping around you, pulling you even closer, until your lips were almost on his and he looked up at you with something in his eyes that you couldn’t place, because no one had ever looked at you like that.

You couldn’t help kissing him. Slowly, asking, almost begging, you peeled up the lower half of his balaclava, waiting for him to tell you to stop. Instead, even in the darkness, you knew that the stubble on his jaw was blonde, because it was impossible to forget someone like him. Your lips found his and it felt so right that your hands snaked up to his jaw, cradling his face in the hope that he’d know you cared for him.

Simon returned your kiss equally as hungry, demanding the air you breathed from you, his embrace swallowing you, and you wanted to give it all to him. Your hands shook as you reached to slip them over the band of his sweats, still unsure if he’d reject you, or let you do it.

Cautiously, your hands slipped under his t-shirt first, his skin feeling like it was burning in comparison to your cold fingers, warm to the touch, and safe.

“I thought about you a lot.” You admitted between kisses. “Wanted to know what happened to you.”

Simon stilled at that, his gaze shifting, warping from one unreadable expression to another.

“Nothin’ good.” He replied finally. You felt like an idiot. Like you’d just ruined the moment.

“I’m sorry.” You said, because you had no idea what else to say. His hand found yours, and you felt like whatever was going to happen to you, it was going to be okay.

#simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley x you #cod: mwii #cod x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #ghost cod x you

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justaaveragereader · 3 months

Note

hi omfg i LOVE your work so much???????????? i wanna request a dommingi (mingi acts nice in front of everyone ykwim but is a complete devil with the reader) where he’s at an award show and he brings the reader along, but reader is laughing a little too hard with his friends, mingi shows her who she belongs to. throw in a little pocket knife action too (not so little action pls make sure he seems crazy like he threatens to kill her if she tries to fuck with his friends again)

can u tell i have issues

thx again :p

First of all lemme go cry in the corner before I greet you😭🖤, hello, hey, hiiiii🖤🖤! I’m so happy you love my work ahhhh😭!!! Thank you for reading and enjoying it! Listen…if you got issues that means I got stemming trauma bc the way I was absolutely in LOVEEEEE with this request, I made Mingi more deranged/yandere then I probably should have but I can’t help it😵‍💫I got so carried away🫠none I love more when writers write the members almost psychotic /deranged, almost like true villains …I hope you enjoy this one babes🖤!

—•—•——•—•——•—•——•—•——•—•——•—•—

I Own You

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Dom!Mingi, Yandere!Mingi, Sub!Reader, Name Calling, Degrading, Knife Play, Slight Skin Cutting (Nicking The Skin, Slight Paper Cut Type Cut, No Blood), Begging, Slight Primal Play, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Cream Pie, Choking…If I Missed Anything👀👀..Lemme Know!

✍️Masterlist✍️

Swirling his drink around the ice clinked against the cool glass. His eyes never leave your laughing figure. Clutching your chest, eyes crinkling with each hardy laugh that leaves your mouth. He's known all the members for a couple years, never have they been this funny. This was the con to being an idol, you guys decided to not go public for the safety of yourself. Mingi could care less about his role as being an idol, yet you insisted on not going public nor wanting to shake the public eye, and possibly ruin the group. Yet the way you were laughing with the boys it couldn’t help but make his heart clench, were they the reason why you didn’t want to go public? Yes the boys knew you were an item, but to the public you looked like really good friends…well at least you did. Mingi looked like a love sick maniac.

His eyes cut sharper at you and the seven boys, shooting his drink down, the brown liquor giving him courage. Peeling himself off the bar counter top he makes his way towards you and the members. His long stride, the way his shoes click against the floor, he was on a mission. Your eyes flutter from laughing, you can make out almost every sound that’s happening in the room. Yet there is one sound in particular that catches your ears. The high pitch clicks of Mingis shoes. He makes his way towards the members and you, only to shoot you that fake smile he does, the cool air from him passing by breezes by you and the members. It feels like the world stills anytime he passes by, the draft leaves the lingering smell of his cologne. Your body riddles with goosebumps. You watch as his broad back makes it farther and farther away.

Stretching your neck to see where he’s going, the boys seem to be background noise at this rate. Almost like static, Mingi had you hooked on him like a drug. You were like a moth to the flame, the persona he puts on even for the members has everyone fooled. It even fooled you, which is how you fell into his trap. They say the devil was once the most beautifulest angel, and Mingis beauty did nothing but blind you.

Your body moves on auto pilot, not even bothering to tell the boys that you were going to go find Mingi. Your body just sways to where you can smell the faint scent of him. Bringing you into a dark hall, the air is so still it almost feels unreal. Your body litters with nerves, rubbing your upper arm, you whisper out Mingis name, sounding like a true stray sheep, calling for its shepherd. He can see you from a dimly lit hallway, you look lost, you look astray. You look tempting, yet while his cock hardens with want, his blood pressure rises because you were also the same person laughing way too hard at his members.

“You lost?” His raspy voice speaks up, echoing down the long and poorly light hallway. Your body does such a noticeable jump, he can’t help but smile, while his cock twitches slightly at the sight. Your head turns from side to side trying to figure out where his voice came from. You can hear the vibrations of his deep tone still ringing in your ears. Letting out a small whimper you call out for Mingi once more.

He starts laughing slowly, the sound just bouncing around the walls of the bare space. You look straight ahead, catching a glimpse of his teeth, his smile so big and teeth so bright, with the way the lights are dim he looks like a threat, almost like this isn’t the Mingi you know.

“Come over here.”

Thoughtlessly following his command, your legs move on autopilot. Your brain already feels like mush, his voice bouncing around in your ears, mixing with the scent of him. He’s addicting. He's propped up against a wall, looking down at you, while your eyes stare up at him like he’s got every answer in the world for you. His cool hand comes to brush your cheek bone, coming down to brush against your bottom lip, pulling it down with his thumb before his hand travels down to your throat, yanking your body closer to his, he’s got you almost completely off of the floor, your noses are brushing. You let out a small squeak at the sudden intrusion. His large hand is crushing your windpipe, even though you can barely make out his features you know there is a fire brewing behind his eyes.

“They must’ve been real fucking comedians to make you laugh as much as you did tonight.” He grits out, while he wasn’t physically spitting on you, it felt like he was spitting heat onto your skin. Letting out a choked out noise, he feels his cock twitch, trying his best not to let his eyes roll back with pleasure at the way your poor helpless face contorts in front of him. Your hand comes up to try and pry him off, yet he squeezes tighter. Tears streaming down your face, your nails dig into him.

Letting you go, your body slumps to the floor, your knees hitting the ground first, your hands grip the material of his pants. Your hand lightly brushes over his hard on. You are in a kneeling position, tears stream down your face. You plead with Mingi through choked sobs..

“Min-Mingi it wasn’t like th-that I sw-swear.” Throat raw with emotion and lack of oxygen from him choking you. There you went, his little helpless sheep. Letting out a tsk, Mingi, brushes his thumb across the top of your forehead.

“I treat you well don’t I? And this is how you treat me…”

The disappointment in his voice wraps around your heart and tugs on the strings of it. Your face deepening in a frown, the tears that were wetting his pants were no longer from the pain of him choking you, it was from the pain you caused him, the disappointment that you shed upon him. Your hands grip his pants in desperation. When you feel something cool brush against the temple of your head, your eyes slowly trailing up his chest. The cool steel is settled right against your temple, not daring to make a move. His mouth widens into that horrific smile. The smile that captures people, that smile that lures people in.

“Do I have to drill into your skull who you belong to? Who owns you?” He says, voice sweet as sugar. Your eyes widen even further, your cunt slickens, you're so far gone on this man you can’t help but contort yourself into what he wants. Your eyes shine, mouth opening and closing no sound coming out but a helpless whimper. The sound of that is enough to make his head roll back, palming your head with his other hand, shoving your face against his twitching cock, the small wet stain of pre cum mixing with your tears brushes against your face.

You nuzzle your face against him, making his cock twitch even harder at the new feeling. His mouth drops open, a quiet groan leaving him. The blade of the knife falters slightly, bringing him back to reality, gripping you by your elbow he snatches you up to your feet.

Turning you around quickly he shoves you chest first against the wall, bunching your dress up against your hips, undoing his belt, he shimmies his pants down on his thigh, thick cock springing free, just oozing with pre cum. The cool air on his cock makes him shiver. You let out a soft moan at him manhandling you, your mind clouded with love, while Mingis mind is clouded with lust.

The blade is on the front of your throat, while his other is on your shoulder, thumb brushing against your pulse, he can feel the quick pulsation pump through his thumb. He sticks his cock between your thighs, brushing against your clothed cunt.

“I’m going to use you how I see fit, do you understand me?” He whispers in your ears, his warm breath tickling your ear, the pulsation from his cock on your count has you whimpering, nodding your head you let out a deep breath trying to gather yourself.

The blade bites into your skin, making your body tense up. You choke out a small yes to him, which immediately follows him thrust his hips slowly, cock slickening from how wet you are getting with each second, one particular thrust makes you whimper loudly.

“Who was the funniest between them?”

Biting your lip, trying your best to keep quiet, your mind can’t even fully comprehend what he’s saying. Stopping his sudden thrusts he pulls back slightly, causing you out a small cry when you feel the cool air hit your sticky cunt, strings of arousal cling to the fabric as he hikes it down to your knees, sticking his cock back in between your thighs he gathers as much slick as he can before he starts to thrust between the lips of your cunt, before slamming his cock into your pussy.

“Don’t make me ask again.” He grits out, moving the blade, the cool steel sitting alongside the vein that runs in the side of your neck.

“None of them were as funny as you Min-Oh my god!” You yell out, hands trying to find the closest thing to grip, his hand grips the blade tighter, making it bite your skin, right on the verge of slicing it.

The sudden slamming of his hips, hike you up and down the wall, cries leave your throat, as the biting of the blade continues to rub against your skin, your cunt gets wetter and wetter by the second. The empty hallway fills with your moans, and the sound of wet skin on wet skin.

“Next time if you even think of cracking a smile at them, I’ll kill you.” He grits, toes clenching in his shoes, you’ve never been this wet before, it’s soaking his pants. Maybe you were just as deranged as he was.

“Or maybe I’ll kill them.” He whispers into your ear, his harsh thrusts making your brain mush, you can feel him brush over your cervix, the squelching noise from your cunt overrides every sound in the hallway, even your pathetic moans. His other hand comes down to your hip. Bringing you down on his cock when he thrusts back, aiding in the powerful strokes he’s delivering to you.

Moving the knife from your vein he holds it to the front of your throat, right above where an adam's apple would lie. The sharp end of the blade pokes your chin, making you moan loudly, with each powerful stroke he gives you, your chin brushes down lightly against the tip of the blade, scratching your skin. With one false move it could easily impale you.

“You hear your pussy talking to me?” He says through clenched teeth, the way your cunt is soaking him, so sloppily he’s so close to the edge.

“She’s telling me she’s sorry, she’s sucking me back in, it’s almost like she knows the boys can’t fuck you like I can, they can’t pleasure you like I do. They could never do half the shit I do.”

His words are like velvet in your ears, the degrading, dirty words flutter in your head like tiny butterflies. Loud whimpers are falling out of your mouth, you attempt to bring your hand up to your mouth trying your best to quiet down when Mingi digs the blade into your neck even harder, you are sure the blade has nicked your skin slightly. Causing you to let out a loud cry, your head knocks against the wall in front of you, crying out Mingis name like it’s a mantra while your orgasm crashes over you.

“Yeaaa, yeaaa that’s it momma, cum on my cock.” He gasps out, tossing his head back, hips speeding up, the tip of his cock crushing against your cervix, walls squeezing him tightly. Milking him for every last drop of cum. His hips jerk slightly trying to help you ride out your own orgasm, as he’s trying to ride out his own.

His body falls forward slightly crushing you against the wall, cock still buried deep into your cunt, knife still present against your throat. The tip of the cool blade is digging fully into your chin. His hot breath pants against your ear, you can feel his heart thump hard against your back. He nudges the blade against your chin, making it dig into your skin further, your head tilts up slightly, eyes looking to the side, catching his wicked smile.

“Remember who you belong to, because next time I won’t remind you. I’ll just show you.”

DO NOT REPOST.

#justaaveragereader ask #justaaveragereader request #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #dom! ateez smut #dom!mingi #song mingi smut #song mingi x reader #ateez yandere #mingi smut #mingi x reader #ateez imagine #ateez one shot #ateez scenarios

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fleshbride · 6 months

Text

A HOUSE IN NEBRASKA. ────── ཐི Satoru Gojo x Fem Black Reader. In which a young man and his small town lover run to a house in Nebraska to escape the traumas of their hometown. ཋྀ

♱ CW: major character deaths, suicide, angst with a happy ending, brief alcoholism, racism/microagressions, childhood best friend & country satoru, small town bullshit, a single derogatory use of ‘nigga’. fluff. pet names such as: sugar plum, doll, honey, princess, baby girl, dream girl, darling, sweet thing & sunshine. smut; unprotected sex, whiny service dom gojo, sub reader. cervix fucking, fingering, oral (f! receiving), riding, breeding, extreme amounts of praise bc satoru talks so fucking much, overstimulation, dumbification, light choking, marking, nipple play, body worship, dacryphilia, begging, pussy drunk satoru. satoru is utterly in love with you and does not try to hide it. chubby reader.

♱ this fic is inspired by a house in nebraska by ethel cain, my favorite singer <3 it’s one of my much much longer fics… this fic is actually so ouch. i’m so so so sorry guys. like yeah there’s PASSIONATE love making, but it’s so so so sad. i actually sobbed writing this. it’s not proof read so pleaseeeee excuse any any mistakes!

♱ wc: 10.1k

You didn’t think it would hurt this much. You didn’t think you’d feel them lodge in your throat, push down your esophagus with a burn. You take more gulps of water, as you gasp and choke. It helps a little bit. You swallow more. And more. And more. Until the bottle of oxycodone is empty. How many were in there? About thirty. You grasp at another bottle. Cross contamination is always the best method. Those go down your throat just as horribly as the rest.

You’re sitting on the floor now, waiting for your death to approach. The pills are burning down to your stomach, and you gulp more water. You stand on shaky legs, and stumble your way to your bed. It’s empty. Like so many other things. Like your heart.

You remember how you got to this point, in your final hours. As you collapse into your bed, eyes fluttering shut, you allow the memories to wash over you.

Two years ago, you lived in a small town in Alabama. It was your nineteenth birthday and you were intent on celebrating in a way that satisfied you. However, while legally an adult, you still weren’t old enough to do too much. And frankly, you weren’t well liked within town. Why? Well, in such a small town, even one you grew up in, that was predominantly another race… They weren’t very accepting to your differences. They weren’t very accepting to your skin, to your hair, to your body, to your personality. They weren’t accepting to you at all.

Even though you grew up there like the rest of them, played with their children, held some of their sons and daughters while they cried and helped them pass their classes, and walked the graduation stage with them. You were still an outsider.

And it was okay — because you had Satoru.

Satoru Gojo, the one of the only other people of color in the entire town — even though he was pale haired, with the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen, like everyone else in the town — was your best friend. You two had been best friends since third grade when he beat up some kid that called your afro ugly, and then you kicked some kid in the balls when he made fun of Satoru’s eyes, since he was Asian. Even at a young age, you two knew that those things were wrong — and you had to stick together.

And you did. You’ve stuck together all your lives, even through middle school, when your boobs started growing, and your hips started widening, and he got taller and his voice got deeper, and all of a sudden, there was this weird feeling. You stuck together through high school, when you got your first boyfriend, and he got his first girlfriend, neither of which ended well. Stuck together even when everyone twanged out, “Are y’all fuckin’?” You stuck together.

So of course, your birthday is spent with him.

Satoru still lives with his parents, technically. They own a ranch on the outskirts of town, and Satoru has his own personal little refurbished barn house, which he got for his graduation present. You’re always there, even more than your own home. Even now, you’re waiting on the wraparound porch of your house, hand over your eyes as you squint into the distance.

You can make out Satoru, on a horse, and with another at his side. He didn’t. You feel yourself squeal at the sight of the familiar white horse; your favorite one. Her name is Jezzy, and she’s the only white horse they have. You and Jezzy had bonded when Jezzy was first born, a little calf. You’ve been her favorite, and vice versa ever since. Frankly, she likes you more than the man that takes care of her.

You don’t wait for Satoru to get to your porch. You run to him, your gladiator sandals slapping against the dirt path and making your white-painted toes dusty. The pink and green floral dress you wear flutters around your knees as you sprint, the wind whipping your neck. Satoru hops down from his caramel horse, Honesty. He’s running to meet you half way, and the smile that had made its way onto your face only grows wider.

He yells your name, and you yell his, and the two of you collide. You throw your arms around his shoulders, and his arms encircle your waist as he lifts you up into a spin. “Happy Birthday, girl,” he laughs in your ear when he finally puts you down. His familiar Southern twang bouncing in your ears. He kisses your forehead, before taking a finger to run through your newly straightened hair.

“Yer curls are gone,” he says, almost sad, his lips pulling in a familiar pout. “You’re gonna get ‘em back, right? Love it when your hair’s like that.” He leans his arm on your shoulder, a familiar habit, even though he’s much taller than you.

“Yes, Satoru,” you muse, “They’ll be back next week, no worries.” You laugh as he whoops, and jumps in the air, clicking his heels together and causing dust to rise up. When he lands, he gives you a proud grin, folding his arms. You notice what he wears. He’s wearing a black polo shirt, that’s tucked into blue jeans and his jeans are messily tucked into his boots. You chuckle. Him and those fucking boots. His wind breaker is thrown over the polo. However, your eyes linger on how his chest presses against the polo. His white locks of hair frame his face, although his cowboy hat smushes his hair, and his sapphire eyes gaze at you happily. You don’t look away and he smirks.

“How’s it feel bein’ nineteen, sugar plum?” Satoru asks as he leads you to Jezzy, who’s quick to snort at you and nuzzle your face with her huge nose. You giggle and scratch her neck, pulling away a little so she doesn’t ruin the makeup you did on your face.

“Doesn’t feel like nothin’, Satoru,” you respond, jolting as he grabs your hips and lifts you to help you onto the horse. His strong hands on your hips make you bristle a little, but you should be used to it now, shouldn’t you? “Just getting older.” He grins up at you from below, giving a little laugh. “Yeah, I get it, plum. I’ll be turnin’ twenty in December, and man… I was just a tyke, wrestlin’ in the fields yesterday.”

You laugh, watching as he boards Honesty. You two start the horses up and begin trotting down the path. There’s a few seconds of silence, before Satoru asks, “You sure y’wanna do this birthday party?”

Ah. You were so swept up by Satoru’s arrival that you forgot where he was taking you. His mother threw a party for you, and decided to invite ‘damn near everyone in town’, according to Satoru. He was very dubious, considering your treatment, but you agreed to it. At first, your mother wanted it to be a surprise party, but Satoru insistently shut that down.

“I’m sure, ‘Toru,” you say gently. The male smacks his teeth, and rolls his eyes a little, before adding, “We can tell my mama to cancel everything, y’know? She won’t be mad at’cha. She knows that the townspeople are dickheads.” You refuse the urge to laugh, because he’s right. They are dickheads. However, you have hope.

“It’s fine,” you insist, “I don’t wanna waste your mom’s hard work. Plus, I’m sure nobody’s gonna do anything on my birthday.” Satoru sighs, but he doesn’t press any further. You’re not too worried; you know if something does happen, he’s right behind you, and he’ll come in swinging. There hasn’t been a time that he hasn’t. However, despite that, you can’t help but secretly feel jittery and nervous.

The rest of your ride to Satoru’s home is filled with jokes, and playful banter. The cool night air swirls around you two, making you shiver a little. You should’ve brought your cardigan. Satoru’s eyes quickly catch on and he chucks his windbreaker at you. He doesn’t say a word as you catch it, he just nods at you. You slide it on, and even in the cool air, your cheeks feel hot.

When you two get in sight of the house, Satoru whistles out, “Race ‘ya!” And it catches you off guard, but you’re quick to spur Jezzy on into canter, her strong legs sprinting forward as the two of you race towards the large ranch house. You and Jezzy win, making Satoru groan. As you both slow down, beginning to head to the stables, he shoots, “You only won ‘cause it’s your birthday!”

Your smug smile says enough about how you feel about that; even though Satoru has more experience with horses, you have your own little luck with racing — you win every race.

You watch as Satoru slides off Honesty. She brays at him and nudges his shoulder, and he chuckles, cooing to her, grabbing both of the horses’ saddle handles, pulling them into the stable. You know better than to try to get off horses on your own; you’re thrown off balance, every time, and end up on your ass. So you wait patiently as he puts Honesty in her stable, before coming over to you.

“Didn’t forget ‘ya, sugar plum,” he grins at you as he presses his hands to your hips. Instead of helping you crawl down, he simply just lifts you down. The stables smell of a mixture of horse, hay and dirt. Even though it’s not the best smell, you’re not focused on it. You’re focused on the way Satoru looks over you as he sets you on, eyes raking over your figure.

The dress that’s glued to your wide hips, draped over your plush figure. Your makeup, delicately painted on your face; he can tell you took your time on it. And you’re still wearing his jacket. He smiles, tucking a strand of your collarbone-length hair behind your ear. “Look at you,” comes his affectionate murmur, one that makes a fuzzy, bubbly feeling spread from your toes to your head. “Just a doll. Prettiest fuckin’ girl in this entire town.” You feel those feelings rising inside of you, and you try to push him away, embarrassed as you say, “Oh, stop, Satoru,” but he pulls you closer by your waist, craning down to you to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Nuh-uh, doll. You jus’ look so beautiful. You always do, but tonight you’re just… wow. Yer glowin’, Y/N.” Your heart is racing as he squeezes the plush of your waist, making you let out a ticklish giggle. Often, there are random times where he gets affectionate with you, extremely so — you should be used to these moments, but you aren’t. Your hands fist into his shirt as his lips press from your forehead, to down your chin. Your breath catches when they get too close to your lips.

This isn’t friendship anymore, is it?

“Happy birthday, princess,” he whispers into your ear, finally pulling away. You look up at him, eyes wide, as you breathily respond, “Thank you…” Satoru looks down at you, smiling gently as he hold you. He murmurs, “I have a surprise for you, y’know. Think you’ll like it.” Before you can question him, he places a finger right above your lips. He’s considerate; doesn’t wanna ruin your lip combo. “A little into the party. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

The two of you pull away from each other hesitantly, and Satoru kicks at the hay as he grins at you. “Party time, birthday girl. Come on.” The two of you exit the stable, sides brushing as you walk to his house.

Within ten minutes, you regretted insisting on going. Once you entered the ranch, carols of your name and ‘happy birthday’ echoed throughout the large common room. It was decorated in gold and white, with balloons everywhere and a little banner hung up for you. Satoru’s mother gave you a large hug, and wrapped her arms around your waist, steering you around to see the cake she baked you. You were all smiles and beams, immediately falling into her, with Satoru lumbering after, your hand outstretched backwards, clasped in his.

After you saw the cake, which was tri-tiered and your favorite flavor, you were passed around from person to person. You got many hugs, from townspeople you were sure didn’t like you very much, and to be fair; you enjoyed the kind attention. You wished it was your birthday every day.

Until, you got to a certain group of young women. You had graduated with the group, even though they were nasty as hell to you. As they approached you, you knew it wouldn’t be good. Vanessa, a tall brunette with pretty hazel eyes, gave you the fakest smile you’ve ever seen, before pulling you into a hug. “Oh, Y/N! Happy birthday, baby!” She cooed, squeezing you. You swallowed, wrapping your arms around her in turn. “…Thank you, Vanessa.” Once Vanessa pulled away, her two friends, Isabel and Megan, gave you hugs also.

“Ugh, Y/N,” Isabel began, running her fingers through your shiny silk press, “You look so much prettier with straight hair! Is this your real hair?” You give an awkward laugh as you gently remove her hand from your hair, looking around for Satoru frantically. Partygoers heard her comment and turned to tune in, furthering your discomfort.

“Yeah, it’s my real hair, please don’t touch it,” you tell her sweetly, watching as she rolls her eyes a little. “I was just complimenting you! You should wear it like that all the time, it looks so much better than your other hair.” You bristle uncomfortably. Were these bitches being racist? You swallow hard and give her a nod, and a smile.

Vanessa steps forward, eyeing you over before she’s chirping loudly, “And that dress is soooo cute! But it’s kinda tight.. Have you gained weight, or something?” Your smile almost drops, but you manage to keep it up, as you let out a delayed, fake laugh. People are starting to whisper and nudge each other, and immediately, more nosy sons of bitches turn to eye you. You’ve always been a bit thicker — that’s no secret. You didn’t have the skinny white girl genes, no. You were filled in by the time you were 13, and even as a nineteen year old, you had a bit of a plump body. You weren’t overweight or obese; you were perfectly healthy. It was just the way your body was. And the fact that these girls thought they could pick on you about it?

You refused to let it happen on your birthday.

“Oh no,” you cooed gently, mirroring Vanessa’s tone, “I haven’t! But um, are you recovering?” You blink gently at her. Fine, you think mentally, if she wants to put on a show, we can do that.

“From what?” Vanessa chirps hesitantly, eyes narrowing. She didn’t think you knew, huh?

“Those butt injections you got last month!” You answer loudly, putting a hand over your heart. Vanessa’s eyes widened as she looked around frantically, as people slowly began to whisper intently. She wasn’t used to the whispers, it seemed.

You were visiting at the local doctor’s office, when you overheard the doctor’s conversation with Vanessa, she was asking some questions about pain for it. You hurried to the bathroom before you could be seen, keeping the information in your head. From the corner of your eye, you see Satoru making his way from the kitchen. He’s obviously heard what’s going on, and doesn’t look happy.

“I didn’t get no injections!” She claims, trying to take advantage of the situation, “Y/N, how could you spread such a nasty rumor?”

“Huh,” You say, “That’s real funny. So you’re just gaining weight too, hm? We should go to the gym together, do some cardio, you know? You must be eating a lot, if it’s all going to your ass!” You giggle, pushing her shoulder and making it all seem like some joke. She has no choice but to giggle with you.

“You know who I haven’t seen here?” Megan speaks up and immediately, you’re on edge. While Vanessa may be the face of the trio, she’s the one who’s more lethal and intelligent with her words. You’ve learned this too many times from high school. “Your parents, Y/N. Typical Black parents, you know? Never there when their kid needs them.” And more publicly racist. You resist the urge to grab this girl by her throat, and show her what exactly your Black parents had taught you. It isn’t like they’re absent — your father passed when you were a teen, and your mother was a chronic workaholic, struggling to provide for you.

“Crazy,” you hear a monotonous voice go behind you. You know exactly who it is, and you couldn’t be more relieved. In typical country boy fashion, Satoru is behind you, chewing on a toothpick. “Megan, weren’t ‘ya crying to me about how your poor dear ol’ daddy beats on ‘ya? Typical Megan, y’know? Always self-projectin’.” He whistles as he presses his hand to the small of your back, steering you out the ranch, the comments of the party trailing behind him. In the faint throes, you even hear, “That nigga bitch…”

You pretend it doesn’t bother you as Satoru leads you to his barn.

Once you’re comfortably nestled in the warmth of his barn, you let out your frustrations about the racism of the town. Satoru sits next to you, his toothpick still resting in his mouth. He watches you intently, before humming out, “Ya done, doll? Don’t let those assholes ruin yer day. Matter fact…” He got up, heading to his little kitchen. You only watched, still fuming a bit.

“Close yer eyes!” The white haired man yells at you, and you do so obediently, pretty brown eyes fluttering shut. You wait for him, hands folded in your lap. You hear the couch creak a little and something set on the table.

“Open ‘em,” you hear his gravelly voice tell you, and you obey. Your eyes lock on a cupcake, with a single candle in it. You soften considerably, calming down immediately.

“Aw, Satoru..” You whisper gently, placing your hand over his, eyes flickering from his face to the cupcake. “You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah I did,” he retorts, squeezing your hand. “You didn’t get to eat any of the cake, even though it was yours, and we needed to be alone anyways. Make a wish, honey.”

You close your eyes, leaning to the cupcake.

I wish that Satoru and I are together as long as we live, and even in death, may we stay together.

You blow out the candle then, before sliding the candle out the middle and licking the frosting off of it.

“One more thing,” Satoru says, sliding his hand into his pockets. He pulls out a golden heart-shaped locket from his pocket, dangling it around his finger. “This is for you, birthday girl.” He cracked open the locket, showing the pictures. On one side was a picture from third grade, the first day they met matter of fact — Satoru’s mother had taken it as a memento. On the other side was your graduation picture, where Satoru had his arm wrapped around you and his lips pressed into your forehead. How far you two had come.

He waves the locket in front of your face, as you gasp at the picture. “We haven’t been able to find this picture years, how did you….?” Satoru only grins and shrugs, as if it was nothing at all. In your pure bliss, you throw your arms around him. His arms wrap around your waist in turn, hugging you tightly.

You can feel tears budding in your eyes as you whimper out, “This was so nice of you…! I appreciate it so much, thank you, I love you!” Satoru laughs as he rocks you, before responding, “Shh. It was no biggie. C’mere, let me put it on for ‘ya.”

You pull away gently from each other, and you turn so that your back faces him. He drapes the necklace over your chest, using his knuckles to push your chin up a bit. He fiddles with the hooks a little before getting it right and letting go. You skim your fingers over the locket before turning back around with a smile.

He opened the locket, looking at the picture. “Man. Can’t believe I found photographs of our school, on the day we met.” He smiles a little, as he looks between the two small pictures. His eyes flicker up to you, then back down. You only watch him with softening eyes. Your heart pumps, and that bubbly feeling spreads through you again. He makes you feel so warm. You’re not an idiot, you know exactly what the things you feel are. You weren’t dense; you knew for a long time.

But you can’t bear to say a word before he did. However, you didn’t expect it to be so soon.

Satoru takes a deep breath, his eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. He gathers his courage before softly uttering, "I thought that you were so beautiful… it was love, I guess." His gaze remains fixed on you, his heart hanging in the balance, waiting for your response, hoping that his words have stirred something within you.

You don’t realize what he had said at first, before it registers. You double take, eyes widening as you look at him frantically. “Satoru. Satoru. It was what?” His face is pink as he looks away from you, but you were insistent, crawling closer to him as you plead, “It was what?” Your hands grab his shirt and he whistles, looking away from you.

Finally, he mumbles out, “… Was love, I guess.”

“What kind?” You press, tears bubbling in your eyes once more. It couldn’t be. He looks at you for what feels like hours. “You know what kind, darlin’. Don’t make me repeat myself. In a way I shouldn’t.”

“Say it.” You hiss, crawling into his lap. He spreads his legs immediately, making room for you as you place yourself in front of him, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at you. “Tell me.” One of his hands rests on your hip and the other trails to play with your locket.

He looks almost shy this way, his blue eyes heavy lidded as you request his words. He sucks in an inhale before he’s saying, “I love you, Y/N…. and not as your best friend. I want ‘ya to be my girl. There, said it… Please let me be yours.”

You’re silent. He wants you to be his girl. Your brain is slow to process it, slow to understand it, slow to reciprocate. However, as you reflect upon his desire for you, a wave of emotions starts to wash over you. Confusion is gradually replaced by clarity, hesitation transforms into certainty, and the realization of his affection for you fills your heart with joy. Suddenly, everything seems to make sense, like a complex jigsaw puzzle finally coming together to reveal a beautiful picture.

“Okay.” It’s all you say. Satoru’s eyes widen, as if he was expecting a rejection. Before he can answer, you’re pressing your lips to his, finally taking the initiative for fucking once. When your lips crash against him, it’s like heaven and hell have collided in a fiery, desperate match.

Satoru’s hands grasp at you, desperate, as his tongue pushes its way into your mouth, curling against your tongue. The way you two kiss is messy, and needy, saliva coats your lips, but it couldn’t be better. Satoru pants into your mouth as he runs his hands over your body feverishly.

“Fuck,” he grunts into your mouth, pulling away briefly to adjust his pants as best as possible. “So hard, you got me s’hard, doll. Shit, shit, get up, or ‘m gonna explode..” You can feel his dick, straining against his jeans beneath you. You don’t get up from your spot, and he lets out a groan into your mouth.

Your hands are sliding under his shirt, feeling the firm abs underneath, trying to touch any bit of his skin you can. His hands squeeze the swell of your ass as he nips at your bottom lip, before sliding his lips down to your throat. He begins to kiss your throat before sucking, biting, making sure your skin is covered in dark marks.

You grab his cowboy hat and throw it off, so you’re able to sink your fingers into his white locks of hair, letting out slight moans as his hands move from your ass to your tits. He caresses them through your dress, and you hiccup as he finds your nipples.

“You ain’t even wearin’ a bra?” He asks you, pulling away from the curve of your neck, to look at you. Satoru’s eyes are glazed over, and low. His face is pink, his hair is ruffled, and his lips are swollen, but he’s never looked happier.

You shake your head, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth nervously. “It didn’t look right with my dress…” Satoru only stares at you, before he’s throwing his head back, groaning. “Fuck, I can’t do this. I can’t do this, princess, I need you so bad.” His chest rises and falls so rapidly, and you can feel his bulge pressing up against you as you sit on him.

You need him just as bad as he needs you, the wetness in your panties tells you all you need to know. Satoru is looking at you with those violently blue eyes. You realize that you’ve been holding your feelings back for years, even now — your love for him, your attraction, and your pure, unadulterated desire.

“Please,” he whispers, pressing a small kiss to your lips, “Please let me put it inside you, please, just the tip.. Please, please, please, fuck, it feels like ‘m gonna fuckin’ die, please, baby girl, need your pussy s’bad….” You enjoy the way he’s acting; you’ve never been wanted like this before, and you doubt you ever will.

“Satoru, you don’t have to beg,” you murmur, draping yourself across his body, arms around his shoulders as he palms your ass and sneaks his hand down to cup your clothed heat.

“Know I don’t,” he whispers, fingers pressing against you in a way that makes you lift your hips, and whine a little. “Look at how wet you are, girl. Any more and ya just may flood your panties.” His fingers push your panties to the side and you gasp as the cold air hits your pussy. His other hand hikes up your dress, balling it up in his fist.

“Gonna make you feel good first, doll,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your jawline. “Relax, ‘nd let Satoru take care of you, mkay?” You nodded feverishly as a finger slid through your plush folds. His finger almost immediately found your clit and swirled around it, causing you to let a little mewl escape your lips. Satoru’s lips were meanwhile pulled into a smug grin at the sound you made. He maneuvered your body, so you were lying back against the couch, legs spread for him.

He tugged your panties down your legs and tossed them somewhere, before pushing the fabric of your dress up and settling between your plump thighs. Without wasting any more time, his finger circled your entrance, teasing you. You huff a little, pouting down at the white haired man, and he grins in response before sliding two fingers into you.

You moan, arching your back as pleasure seeps through you. Satoru’s long fingers reach farther than yours ever could. He smiles at you as he curls his fingers against your walls. “Such pretty moans, good girl,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your thighs, as he begins to pump his fingers inside of you. Your thighs twitch, and you grip at the couch. His fingers are skilled, scissoring and curling, as the sloppy sound of your wetness echoed through the barn. Satoru leaned forward, enclosing his lips around your clit.

The combined effort of his fingers and his mouth had you squirming and whining beneath him. He pressed a hand to your stomach, his movements halting and eyes narrowing as they snapped to you; you know what he was telling you. Stop moving or he’d stop.

You couldn’t take that. You stilled your movements, trying your best to relax as Satoru slowly resumed his ministrations, lapping at your cunt while sliding his fingers in and out of you. His fingers curled against a spot that had your toes curling as you cried out his name. He pressed his tongue flat against your clit, and had another finger pressing into your heat. You let out a squeal at the slight burn, hand flying to grip his hair. “Satoru-! Ah, that’s too much!” He gave you a silencing glare, blue eyes honeyed with lust. His fingers nudged your g-spot, and the whine that left your lips let him know exactly what he had pressed.

His movements all sped up, as you felt your stomach tightening. Between each of your moans was a pant, as you cried of his name. Everytime his fingertips pressed against your g-spot, you felt yourself get closer and closer to orgasm. Mixed with his tongue swirling your clit, you couldn’t take it. Your thinking got fuzzy as the rubber band in your core was pulled farther and farther. “Toru! I-I’m close!” You whimpered, as his quick, skilled movements brought you to your peak. Your eyes rolled back as you gushed all over his fingers, breathing hard. You didn’t even notice, in your stupor, when he replaced his fingers with his tongue, lapping up your essence.

His tongue was flat against your entrance, as he licked from hole to clit and back again. When you finally came to, you were whining all over again, sensitive as Satoru flicked his tongue across your bundle of nerves. You pushed his head, letting out a. “Hold on, ‘m sensitive!” Satoru smacked your hand away, mumbling out, “Shh, doll. Gimme another one.”

He dived back in between your thighs, mouth latched onto your pussy as he pressed his tongue against your hole, fat tongue working itself while he slurped at your essence. A mixture of his spit and your juices dripped down your ass – but he was quick to slide his tongue down, licking that right up.

He was messy with his mouth, unabashedly slurping, sucking, and licking everything you had to offer, the wet smacking noises echoing through the room. You would’ve been embarrassed if it didn’t feel so good.

Before long, you were about to cum a second time, eyes squeezing closed as you gasped and spasmed, letting out a broken cry as another orgasm claimed your body. Satoru was ecstatic, lapping up your cum and guiding you through your high without breaking a sweat.

Once you came down from your high, he pulled away gently, his intense gaze locked on you. His eyes glimmered, pale hair askew as he latched his mouth back to yours. His hands gripped at your dress, yanking at the sleeves to pull them down your arms, before the entire dress was coming down to your waist.

Your lips moved feverishly as you fiddled with the buttons of his polo, and he raised his arms to slide it off. His buff form was revealed, abs firm and his strong arms moving to cocoon you against him. There were gentle words being exchanged between your lips. “So gorgeous, Y/N. Fuuuck, honey, can’t wait to feel your pussy ‘round my dick.” Satoru mumbles as his fingers fumble with his jeans. However, before he unbuttons them, he looks at you. “You sure you want this, sunshine? We can stop here, and keep kissin’. Fuck what I want, ‘kay? What does m’girl want?”

God, you didn’t think that he could get any hotter. But his consideration of your wants and needs make you get even wetter. “Satoru, I want you,” you say gently, one hand pressing to the side of his face. He nuzzles into your touch, eyes softening. “Want you too, sunshine. So much I just might go insane..” He finally unbuttoned those stupid jeans, yanking them down and his boxers with it. His length sprung out, and your eyes popped out of your head.

Satoru was the size that those fake ass dick pills promised, his tip pressing just under his belly button. His tip was mushroom shaped and fat, as pink as his blushed cheeks, and weeping fat beads of precum. His length was a bit on the skinnier side, and although his girth wasn’t anything to fear too much, his length definitely was. His dick was something straight out of porn propaganda.

“Toru, that’s not gonna fit,” you found yourself saying, your eyes flickering from his length to his pretty face in anxiousness. Satoru only leaned down to kiss you, shutting you up. “It’s okay, princess” he whispered sweetly. Even now, as his dick pressed against your stomach, his tip landed slightly above your navel. “Don’t be scared, ‘m gonna take such good care of you,” his kisses went down your neck, to your chest. He kissed around your breasts, before his tongue flicked out to lick your right nipple, hardening it. He turns his head, lavishing the same attention on your left. His hands multitasked, grabbing a pillow and sliding it underneath your back.

His kisses moved to the valley of your breasts, before going down your stomach. He pressed kisses into your love handles, to your stomach, to your cunt, which made you giggle, to your thighs, before he was holding up your legs and kissing up your calves. He even kissed your feet. He traced your stretch marks lovingly, murmuring out, “Only God knows how I’ve waited for this. For you. Fuck, Y/N, you’re just so fucking beautiful. More beautiful than any of the women in this town. Shit, I could cum just lookin’ at you…”

You couldn’t help but simper at his words, face warming as you wrap your legs around his waist. “Please just fuck me already, Satoru.” His tip slid against your clit and you let out a soft whine. “Please, just…” You were silenced by the feeling of him rubbing his tip down your slit, collecting your juices before you felt him pressing against your hole.

You hissed, hands flying up to his shoulders as your nails dug into his skin. To distract you from the burn of him entering you, he began to lather kisses and lovebites across your throat and collarbones. Your hole stretched around his tip, as tears burned in your eyes, the slight pain making you shift uncomfortably.

“It’s okay, baby girl, I got you,” he whispered against your skin, tongue sliding across your throat as he sucked more hickeys onto the expanse of your throat. He pushed his tip in, and once the burn of it faded, he fed you inch by inch of his dick. Your pussy constricted around him, sucking him in greedily as your juices coated his length.

The feeling of him bottoming out inside of you had you letting out a high-pitched whine, eyes rolling back. Above you, Satoru let out a whine identical to yours. “Oh, f-fuck,” he stuttered, his eyes squeezing shut, “Fuck, almost came. You’re so warm, ‘nd wet— You feel so good, baby doll, oh shit.. Your pussy’s grippin’ me so nicely, fuck, I-I can’t take it.. Oh my God, tell me when I can move…”

Satoru was breathing heavily, as he looked down at you, your pretty face contorted in pleasure as his tip nudged against your cervix. Just the feeling of him stretching you out had you seeing stars, euphoria coursing through your veins. When you finally adjusted, you tapped his shoulder, telling him you were ready.

Satoru pulled out, so that only his fat tip was inside of you, before rocking his hips into yours. That first shallow thrust had you release a hiccuped moan, gripping his shoulders. He took this as a positive sign. Satoru’s thrusts were slow, yet deep, and each time his tip was pressed to your cervix.

The feeling of it, thought it hurt some, was extremely pleasureful to you, and a whine of, “Faster, please,” exited your lips. Satoru’s brows furrowed slightly as he grinned. “Alright, darlin’ but when you can’t walk in the mornin’, don’t blame me!” He pulled out a little before pushing his hips into yours. He delivered you those deep strokes, just at a much faster pace.

Your tits bounced, body propelled forward as he held your thighs for stability, his dick stretching you out, stirring up your guts. The angle from the pillow only heightened your pleasure, and each thrust forced out a blissful whine or a whimper of his name from you.

Satoru let out heavy groans, not scared at all to let you know just how good you felt around him. And even better, he leaned down to let husky murmurs of praise fill your ears. “Such a good girl, takin’ me s’good… Like your pussy was made for me. You feel amazing, darlin’, wanna make you cum so bad… You feel good? Please tell me ‘m making you feel good, baby girl…” His voice was breathy and desperate in your ear, as you struggled to form the words he wanted to hear. “Please, baby? S-Shit, let me know how good ‘m making you feel on your birthday.”

His words only drive you crazier, head spinning as you gasp out, “Makin’ me feel s’good, Satoru! P-Please, please, please don’t stop, oh my God!” Satoru cursed under his breath as his hands slid from your thighs to your breasts, squeezing at them. His fingers circled your nipples, before he pulled, twisted and rolled them between his fingers. It only shoved you closer to the edge, as his tip briefly pressed against your g-spot. The brief gasp you gave from it let Satoru’s perceptive ass know, and he angled his hips to hit that spot, instead of your cervix.

The sound of your hips colliding filled your ears, along with Satoru’s raspy moans. Within no time, you were alerting him, “Toru, ‘m gonna c-cum again!” The third orgasm you had in a row, and it seemed like Satoru wasn’t stopping. He chuckled, moving one of the hands on your tits to swirl your clit in rough circles. “Mhm, go ‘head, sweet thing. Let go f’me.”

It pulsed underneath his finger pad, as your third climax seized your body. Your breathing heavy and quick as you let out gasped out, long moans and wails, your pussy clenching around his length as you creamed around him. Euphoria was spreading through you, to every part of your body.

Satoru’s eyes widened as he fucked you through your orgasm; his own was catching up to him, and it had him letting out deep whimpers mixed with his moans.

“Can I cum in you?” He gasped, hands gripping your waist. His nails digging into you so hard, crescent marks were being left on your skin. “Please, baby? Fuck, need to cum s’bad, and I wanna see my cum dripping from your pretty pussy…” He shoved his face into the curve of your neck as he began to beg. “Please, Y/N, wanna feel you around me while I fuckin’ cum, I-I need it, please, you feel s’perfect and I just wanna fill you up and watch it slide out. Wanna pump you full over and over until you’re filled with my babies—“ Satoru was rambling by now as he bucked desperately into you. He let out a shaky whine against your skin as your bodies collided passionately.

Your sensitive body quaked in his hold as he pleaded to cum in you. You couldn’t deny him, not when there were tears budding in his eyes, and his swollen dick was fucking you up like this, and he looked so pretty whining out your fucking name. You gave him a nod, even though your brain was foggy and you could barely care about what you were saying yes to.

Satoru let out a sigh of relief, moaning out, “Thank you, princess, thank you, thank you, love you, I love you—“ The feeling you got when you felt that first spurt of cum fill you was unbelievable. Warmth spread through you, as Satoru’s dick twitched and bobbed inside of you, before he was releasing his thick cum into you.

Just like he said he would, Satoru stuffed you full of his cum. He collapsed against you, face in your titties as you both breathed hard. He pulled out slowly, his dick getting a little soft. In a heartbeat, he was spreading your ass so he could watch his warm cum trickle from your hole.

And just like that, he was hard again.

You watched with dazed eyes as his dick twitched, ready to go again. Satoru grinned at you, tilting his head as he said, “I’d eat my cum out of you right fuckin’ now, but I need to feel you around me one more time.” He scooped you up, maneuvering so he was laying back and you were in his lap again. “For every year you are,” he murmured, his finger trailing down your spine, “Is every round we go. Every position we swap. I can keep up… Can you?”

You knew you couldn’t. You knew you couldn’t compete with his stamina. But you nodded your head yes, and lifted your hips anyways as a mix of both of your cum slid down your thigh. “Mhm, baby,” he laughed a little, holding your hips as he guided you. “You can keep up? I’ll have you fucked dumb by round five. Maybe even this round. Hopefully ya last, birthday girl.”

Before you could even respond to his bravado, he pulled you down, spearing you on his length. You let out a squeal, as you clutched his arms. You were still sensitive, and you made sure to whine it loudly. His hands moved to grip your ass, pulling you up and dropping you back down. His tip bumped your cervix s he did so, and you mewled, pressing your face into his chest.

“Nuh uh, sugar, you can last right?” He taunted, even though his breath was shaky. “Ride me. Right now.” He wasted no time with sliding in a joke, “You ride horses so well, I’m sure you can ride mine.”

You bit your lip as you planted your feet into the couch, using your lower body strength to pull your body up. You began to bounce down on him feverishly, immediately setting a fast pace for yourself. Satoru hit all the spots you needed, and you felt your fogged brain saying that you should’ve fucked him much longer ago.

Satoru cupped your ass as you rode him, stuttered breaths leaving him. “Oh, s-shit, baby, yer goin’ so fast—!” He gasped, your pussy clamping down on him like no other. You kept going, ignoring him, as if you were using him. You had something to prove. You purposefully clenched harder around him, intent on making him cum first, to prove he was the one who couldn’t last.

Satoru, unfortunately, quickly picked up on what you were doing. His hands gripped your hips once more as he huffed, “Sweet thing’s got a vendetta. Mm, fine. I’ll bite.” His heavy lidded lapis eyes peered at you as he began to thrust upwards to meet your bounces, tip jamming against your g-spot. The only noises that left your mouth were squeals, the little bit of control you had dissipating.

Satoru quickly regained his control as he fucked up into you, watching as your tits bounced and your eyes rolled back. Your sweat covered bodies merged, and his eyes were fixed on the way his dick slid in and out of you, and the cum coating his length. The noise of him pounding into you seemed to be amplified. For another time, you felt yourself reaching a climax, stomach tightening as your jaw went slack. It was coming so fast, you couldn’t even alert Satoru.

You let out strained moans of pleasure as he continued to fuck into your sensitive pussy, bringing you to the peak of ecstasy for the fourth time. The throbbing sensation in your clit, though slightly painful, only added to the intense pleasure coursing through your body. Each orgasmic wave that washed over you was a testament to the overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing.

Finally spent, you dropped against him, whimpering pathetically as he continued to use your body like a cocksleeve. Tears filled your eyes as he pushed past your sensitivity, fucking into you like a menace. You knew he had stamina, but God, this was insanity. His hand wrapped around your neck loosely, tilting your head up to look at him.

The sight Satoru laid his eyes on was heavenly. Your hair was mussed, starting to sweat out; your makeup was becoming messy from the tears beginning to slide down your face. Your lip combo was long gone, though there were remnants on both his lips and yours. The sight of your tears only fueled him, as he kissed them away. “Thank you for letting me have your body like this, pretty. Pussy was made for me. Just divine, you’re jus’ divine.. Gonna marry you and then ‘m gonna fuck you so much that your body wouldn’t be able to escape pregnancy— You want my babies, don’t you? Say yes, tell me you want me as much as I want you…” Satoru was very obviously close, the trembling and the rambles were a tell tale sign.

You found yourself mindlessly nodding to everything he said, and it wasn’t long before he was shooting another load deep into you. You thought he was done, before he was grabbing your chubby thighs, hoisting your legs up, and locking your body into a full nelson position.

As he drilled his long cock into you once more, it was simply too much for you. You gave in, mind going blank as he slammed into you, filling you to the hilt. Your eyes were glazed over, tears still falling. Your mouth hung open as overstimulated whimpers left your lips. You came a fifth time, but you were so far gone, you didn’t even notice.

“L-Look at you,” Satoru said, his lips pressing against your shoulder, “Too much for you, yeah? Look so pretty like this, sweet girl. Fuck, fuck, fuck, ‘m cummin’ too quick—!” Satoru was overstimulated himself, but that didn’t stop him. As he came a third time, the both of your fluids slathered all over his dick as he dropped you from the nelson, and flipped you onto your hands and knees.

“Need more of you,” he rasped, spreading your ass as he messily spread his cum around your pussy and thighs, before stuffing you full once more. He pressed kisses into your spine, as he gripped your ass, fucking you from behind.

The sex was depraved, as Satoru fucked you like a man starved. You were too far gone, drooling into the couch as he fucked you like you both were dying tomorrow. But, it wasn’t long before he was finally slowing down, heavy balls squeezing as he began to have dry orgasms.

Finally, he pulled out, scooping your barely there, sex-addled body up and carrying you to his bed. He dropped down into bed, you on top of him as he threw the blankets over the two of you.

He pressed kisses to your face, and then your lips, as he whispered, “Even if we die tonight, then I’ll die yours, and you’ll die mine.” Somehow you managed to reciprocate, as exhaustion slowly claimed you. “So then, I’ll die here under you; every night, all night.”

The last thing you heard before you passed out, were Satoru’s whispered love confessions, and promises for the future.

Your honeymoon phase of the relationship seemed to be forever, although things in town got harder. People were more openly racist; vandalizing your home, your father’s grave, and your mother managed to somehow overwork herself to death. You were now alone, in an empty house, and with an empty heart. Save for Satoru.

Where darkness lingered in the corners of your life, he was the light that banished all of it. To escape, he often drove you to Nebraska, far enough but still close. The two of you found an abandoned house on the outskirts of the state. A single two-floor house. You loved it utterly.

Satoru was a bit of a criminal, stealing a bobby pin from your hair and picking the lock. Managing to get into the house, so you could see the interior. It wasn’t like anyone was there to care. When you were there, the two of you cleaned up the house, and pretended like it was your own place. It was the place where you found each other on a dirty mattress on the second floor.

Months passed. Then a year. Satoru turned twenty, then so did you. Like your last birthday, it was spent in love, and in a sex-crazed haze. You two pave your own road, feet weathering the trail to the house in Nebraska, leaving your mark. It’s in the spring, when you two are at the house, and Satoru gets on one knee, pulling out a golden ring with a bright diamond.

“When I came home after graduation, I told my mama I was gon’ marry you,” he said matter of factually, “She asked me if you knew that. I told her no, but you would eventually. So now, I’m askin’ you if you’ll bless me by being my wife.”

You screamed yes so loud, the two of you were sure you alerted others of your presence.

Your engagement angered the town. Although Satoru was a person of color too, they were sure he looked best with a white girl. It got to the point where they got violent with you. Calling you slurs, and being so racist, you became afraid to leave Satoru’s side.

But, it was okay — because you two stuck together, always.

You prepared for your wedding as best as you could in your anxious state. Satoru’s mother even bought you a wedding dress — from one of your favorite brands, Vivienne Westwood. Vivienne made the most beautiful wedding dresses.

However, your hometown was getting overwhelming. You couldn’t help but look over your shoulder at any given moment. Satoru knew it was time to go.

He told his mother that he had to get you out of here — there was nothing but pain for you here. He couldn’t let you live like this. She understood, more than anything. She handed Satoru a wad of cash, telling him to visit soon.

He bought the house in Nebraska. How he found the owner, you never found out. But he bought that fucking house, and you two packed your bags and you never fucking looked back.

Nebraska was nice. You didn’t go into town often because of your anxiety, but Satoru assured you it was fine. You loved your home. You loved your future husband. You were soothed, and nothing could ruin it.

Until one day, Satoru didn’t come home from visiting his mother. You opted out that time, feeling a bit sick, and not up for the long drive. You got the call from his mother. You barely remembered anything but the words, ‘Shooting. Hospital. Coma.’ And you were catching the bus to Alabama.

You never wanted to return home, but you had to. You didn’t let them turn you away or shame you. You joined his mother in the hospital. And soon after you got there, after you held his hand, and sobbed his name, and kissed his face, and as if he was waiting for you, Satoru Gojo passed away.

The story was that Satoru got into an altercation with a group of men who said some horrible things about you. Even when they threatened him with a gun, he didn’t back down. He was always so protective when it came to you, and it killed him. And now, you were the reason that he won’t come home.

The birthday wish you made didn’t come true. Because the love of your life was gone, and you were so alone.

You stayed for his funeral. Open casket. Unlike everyone else, you didn’t wear black. You wore your wedding dress, and a veil. You were a widow, even though you hadn’t even gotten married yet. You never would. His mother held you by the waist, crying silently as she guided you to his casket. And as you leaned down to press a final kiss to his dead cold lips, nobody said a thing to you.

You disappeared soon after, with gentle words to his mother.

You retreated to your house in Nebraska, where you needed him. Months pass, and you need him still. You rot away in that house, plagued by memories. His scent still lingers on his untouched clothes, and sometimes you open the drawers to smell.

His mama calls sometimes, to see if you’re doing well. You lie to her and say that you’re doing fine. When really you’d kill yourself to hold him one more time.

You manage to force yourself to go to town, to buy things. You cry every day, and the bottles make it worse — because he was the only person you weren’t scared to tell you hurt.

And you feel so alone. You feel so alone out here. You feel so alone without him. You’re so alone out here, and you miss him more than anything. Every day, waking up without him warming you, breathing air that he does not share, it breaks you piece by piece. You feel so alone.

More months pass and you turn twenty-one alone. And you realize you can’t continue life like this.

You feel so alone.

On your twenty-first birthday, you put on your wedding dress, the one you never got to walk down the aisle in. You pick up the pills, sobbing as you whimper, “I’m so alone out here without you, baby.” You down the pills.

You remember all of this as you die, life flashing before your eyes. You’re curled up in your bed, now clutching one of his shirts to your chest. It’s like you fall asleep, despite the toxicity causing your body to fail. You finally die.

You wake up in a garden of flowers. Lillies of the valley, to be exact. You look around wildly. Cloudless blue sky, and flowers to be seen for days. You’re in your wedding dress. Is this what the afterlife is like? An endless, calming flower field? A breeze ruffles you. You begin to walk. Time doesn’t seem to pass here, because you can’t tell if it’s been seconds or days.

You know you’re dead, but why are you here?

“Y/N?”

You freeze. You know that voice. Tears fill your eyes, and you turn slowly. There he is. That ruffled white hair, bright blue eyes staring into you. You see the tears that well in his eyes, mirroring yours. “What are you doing here?” He cries, and he’s rushing to you, and he’s gathering you in his arms, cupping your face. You’re shaking your head and sobbing, because it’s him, it’s him and he’s here and you can hold him again.

“What’re you doing here, dream girl?” He sobs and he’s pressing his lips to yours, kissing you as if you’ll fade away. The kiss is salty as you two hold on to each other, tears mingling. When the two of you finally break away, he’s still holding your face, as you sob out, “I was so alone without you, Satoru! I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t live without you!”

He sobs harder and holds you against his chest, which is bloodied. “You killed yourself?” You nod ashamed, but he didn’t yell at you, or judge you. He never, ever has. He holds you, pressing kisses into your face, your hair. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t want to leave you — I held on, I held on until you came, and I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to survive,” he cried into your hair, “Leaving you hurt so much. It hurt more than getting shot did. We were supposed to have so much time. We were supposed to get married and have babies and die together when we old a-and, we didn’t.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you whimper back, as he squeezes you tight, tighter than he ever has. If you were alive, you’d be struggling to breathe. “But I wish you would’ve let it go. Let it go and came home to me.”

Satoru doesn’t respond, instead he’s pulling away to kiss you again. “I wish I did too. I would’ve came back to our house in Nebraska, where the world was empty, save you and I. But at least we’re here. I don’t know where it is, but this is where I’ve been. Waiting for you to come. I just want expecting it so soon.” He sniffles, obviously sad.

“I had nothing left for me,” you whispered, as the two of you lace your fingers together, “I needed you still. I… I was horrible.”

“I visited you in your sleep a lot,” Satoru admitted, as the two of you began to walk. “It was the only time I could. I watched you sleep, all the time. You slept with my shirts. It made me feel good.”

You lean against him, he’s warm and he smells just as though you remember. You two walk, for a while, talking about the future you deserved.

Until you reach a house.

A house identical to your house in Nebraska.

“Well, I’ll be,” Satoru whispered, obviously shocked, turning to look at you. Tears were falling down your cheeks as you smiled, whispering, “Guess you’re stuck with me, even in death.”

“Wouldn’t wanna be stuck anywhere else,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. He pulled a bobby pin out of your hair, and just like old times, Satoru picked the lock to the door.

You two stuck together; in life and death, and you still call home that house in Nebraska.

272 notes · View notes

st4rbwrry · 2 years

Text

under the influence. jean kirstein.

୭ warnings . . . fem!reader, officer!jean, lowercase intended, black coded, hot sweaty car sex, public indecency, oral ꒰ m received ꒱, jean’s rough bc he is, mild degradation, jean’s your ex, reader rides jean, impact play, jean’s a titty sucker srry i don’t make the rules.

୭ mocha’s note .ᐟ . . . men in uniform. yes. also y’all know exactly what song that title is. ;)

hues of blue and scarlet flicker over the body of your obsidian lexus rc 300, the vechicle behind you blaring the sirens like they’re eardrum killers purposely meant to burst them. you hated those fucking things. police even more. huffing after wiping the tears off your face, you pull to the side of the empty road. it’s extremely late at night. more-so early, around three in the morning. checking your rear view mirror, you spot the black camaro with an officer stepping out of it. just my fucking luck. as if you weren’t already having a shitty night. kissing your teeth, you sniffle as you roll down your window before reaching into your glove compartment for your license and registration. you’re not exactly sure why you’re being pulled over to be frank.

the officer strolls towards your car, a tall, lanky man whose wearing a black long sleeve which hugs his muscles and sharp cut abs with dark jeans and heavy boots. the belt around his hips is thick and leather . . . expensive looking. when he’s by the window to your vehicle, you turn to see his appearance. dewy pink lips plush as cotton. fawn long hair that brushes on the nape of his neck. a messy stubble on his jawline that shifts as he chews his gum. he didn’t have a badge, nor a holster on his hips with a gun or a taser. however, he did have on a loose vest with multiple pockets. maybe he was off duty and you ruined his drive home? his scent is strong, recognizable even. bleu de chanel. makes the hair on your skin rise. his eyes are what really draw you in. low and dark, like a dravite tourmaline.

“i knew it was you.”

a pang in your chest makes it nearly hard to breathe. you had to blink several times to decipher his image. you knew this man for sure. those lips of his curl into a lopsided grin as he witnesses your saddened eyes expanding. your fingertips slowly glide off your steering wheel as your hands drop into your lap. the man before you, your ex boyfriend, turns his neck sideways before spitting out his gum into the road. he has one hand on his hip and the other in his back pocket, now aware of the gun tucked in the back of his jeans. he’s definitely off duty. the car he’s driving is an undercover cop car.

“can’t speak to me?” jean prompts louder as if you couldn’t hear him the first time. “i’ve told you fifty times about that taillight, baby. how come it isn’t fixed yet?”

jesus this really isn’t a good night. of all the people you’ve encountered today, your ex had to be one of them. a cop scared you enough. but him? he terrified you. in all the right ways. sounds crazy, but there’s a reason.

“i see you followed through with your training.”

“did. i see you’re still hardheaded.”

“am.”

jean rolls his eyes. “that’s beside the point. why are you driving like you’re under the influence? you’ve been drinking?”

“no, i haven’t. sorry, i’m just . . . in my head,” he watches you sigh, noticing the puffiness in your eyes along with a hint of redness. you’ve been crying. it’s clear as day. jean cocks his head to the side, getting closer to your window, resting an arm on the hood of your car.

“what’s going on?” a genuine tone in his voice makes you cower. you didn’t need it. not from him that’s for sure.

“don’t worry about it. just give me a ticket so i can go home.”

he doesn’t appreciate the stern, cold tone in your voice. handing him your papers like he’s a stranger, a regular cop. not a man you’ve dated for five years. he’s seen every aspect of you. every breakdown, laugh, trauma. every freckle on your body. knows the way you like it. maybe you didn’t patch things up the right way, but that doesn’t make it okay for you to act like he doesn’t mean anything to you. fucking brat.

“is it so bad to worry about you?” his jaw clenches in fury, inching his face closer to yours, head sticking entirely into your space. you pull your face back, eyeing him like he’s crazy, baffled by his action.

“get out of my car.”

“i’m not in it. now shut the fuck up and tell me what happened. clearly you’re not okay. you’re swerving like you’re drunk plus you’ve been crying. i see it.”

the assertiveness he gives you almost makes you melt in your seat, not hearing his voice in so long, sometimes craving it. it’s like a warm cup of hot chocolate. smooth and comforting. your lower lip gets taken between your teeth before you’re inhaling and exhaling.

“this guy i’ve been fucking with just told me he had a girlfriend, so. we got into this huge fight and he broke my glasses which is why i can’t see all that good right now. i’m just trying to get home to forget about it.”

the look on his face is empty. “he hit you?”

immediately, you deny. “n-no. i mean, he grabbed me to try and apologize and my glasses fell and he stepped on them by accident.”

remembering it made you hug yourself, feeling his fingertips squeezing your arms harshly once again. jean looks there and sees a few bruises. your skin was really sensitive, so you bruised over anything.

“step out of the car.”

you blink. “what?”

“you heard me the first time.”

clearly, it doesn't seem as if he'll give up until you do. rolling your eyes, you do what you’re told, jean stepping back as you aggressively swing open your car door, stepping out with your arms hugging yourself considering you’re only wearing a cream flower lily sundress with white sandals. jean couldn’t help his lingering stare. you’ve always been outrageously beautiful to him.

“it’s really none of your concern.”

“god, i forgot how much you talked,” the tiny ‘tch’ coming from him before he’s pulling you in for a tight, comforting hug has you falling back into the same entrapment of passion. jean broke up with you because he didn’t want a relationship anymore. he wanted to work on himself, his life, pay more attention to his family and the baby girl he had with an ex of his. the reason why he terrified you is simple; you loved him too damn much that it hurt you to your core. to let him go. to be alone again. you hated him for leaving you.

“missed your pretty self,” now he's stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb endearingly, rolling his lips inwardly when your eyes meet his.

“do you?” it comes out softer than you intended. small. he makes you feel so goddamn small, safe, and secure.

“yeah,” he breathes.

it's frustrating sometimes when your body reacts before your mind does. dainty hands reaching to skim across his waist you then grab onto, bringing him closer until your back is pressed up to your car. jean’s face remains stagnant. not sure of what to do. actually, he preferred to see what you were intending. truth is, you didn't know. if you wanted to rant about how he left you. kiss him and tell him to take you home. or get on your knees and worship him just because.

“are you with her?” your bottom lip juts out as you impel your chest to his. jean takes a minute to understand the question. you must've meant her.

“no. never. we're just co-parenting.”

“promise you haven't fucked her. not once after we split?” jean groans as the hazel in his eyes turn murkier, your face no longer in his. instead, you're bug-eyed with the bulge in his jeans. unlatching his buckle and pushing all your weight onto the car behind you as you balance yourself on your calfs.

“just one time. didn't mean anything,” jean is blunt about it causing you to raise your brow the same time you're dragging down his zipper. he doesn't so much as glance around to check for any unexpected company. it's nearly four in the morning and you're off the road near a forest of trees. no one was coming.

“was it good?” he swears to god he almost busts right there, clenching his jaw as you stick out your salivated tongue, hand wrapped around the base of his thick, hardened cock, a tear droplet of precum on the head. it's pulsating in your palm, and you mewl, wetting your lips with allure.

“i c-can't remember,” jean hisses as the warmth of your mouth intakes him, batting your curled lashes and glaring into his eyes as the vein on the underside of his cock is caressed by your tongue. he's somewhat in your mouth, resting heavy on your slippery tongue before you pull back and lap at the tip. jean’s physique is arched over you, forehead nearly grazing the hood of your vehicle.

“try,” now your hands reside on the back of his thighs, gathering enough saliva to spit over his dick, dragging it along with your pursed lips on either side, waiting for him to speak.

jean bites his lips so hard he curses, sucking on the blood seeping out, bucking his hips to thrust into your mouth. since you move back again, it makes him suck his teeth. big hands holding either side of your head before he's giving you a dark stare you hadn't seen in a minute. it makes you squirm. submitting easily.

“stick that lil’ tongue out,” he rasps, slicking his own over his bitten red lip. “you have to be polite, princess.”

it kills you to hear him speak to you like this. every spoken word foreign. you seriously don't know what came over you. too many emotions hitting you at once. seeing him, smelling him, holding him . . . you wanted him. no, needed him. obeying as you do, you stretch your mouth wider to fit him in deeper. jean mumbles a low ‘there we go, girl’, swallowing his spit and shifting his gut to fuck your mouth as he pleased. he's pressing your head against the door, your eyes wide and lashes specked with tears, jean grunting the faster he fucks your throat. you're breathing through your nose as best as you can, clutching onto him for support, unable to squeeze your thighs like you needed to ease the excessive throbbing.

he's by far one of the prettiest men you've met in your lifetime. moans even more lovely. drool slicks down the side of your chin, the color in your pupils shifting as your eyes lose focus. jean warns you under a brief choke, telling you ‘hold your breath’ before he's shoving his dick entirely down your throat. you claw at his thigh, gagging as he stays there for a few more seconds before pulling back. you gasp dramatically, swallowing the remainder of your saliva with his dick springing in your face, catching your breath.

“good fuckin’ girl,” he's petting the side of your face before helping you stand, your knees burning from being crouched down for so long. they were gonna burn more when you found out how he was going to have you next.

in your backseat, door shut and lights off. jean’s on his back, pants still clinging to his waist as your body pounces above him, clit occasionally brushing against the dark happy trail on his pelvis as you bounced on his dick with every inch of your body burning and screaming at you. chest rumbling from your euphoric screeches. ass clapping heavily on his bulky thighs as you grip onto the headrest of the passenger seat, the other on the back seat. jumping like his cute bunny while your tits are in his starved mouth. rushing his hot tongue over your nipples, teeth sinking in gently. sucking and pulling with his lips as he studies you with exhilaration.

“who's a good cock whore for daddy?” jean hums, a free hand swatting your ass for the fifth time now, encased by heat. feels like it's swollen. the yelp you exude makes him weak. you're so fucking sexy it makes no goddamn sense. “huh?”

“me, baby!” you sniffle cutely, slowing down and sitting down fully, gyrating, losing your balance.

“unh uh,” jean slaps your ass, your scream defeaning. “who said to stop? keep fucking going.”

the car is hot, no doubt. doesn't help that the windows aren't down and your seats are leather. jean’s lower back is sticky with sweat. his gear still on, shirt lifted only to his midsection. gun inside of your center console for safety. a broken whine falters from you as you rise up again, shifting your legs so one foot is flat on the floor and the other by his torso. he grabs that leg, keeping your knee bent once you find your pace again.

“s’in my tummy,” both of you look there in sync, jean snickering when you whine. it’s too dark to notice but both of you could feel it.

“clear as day, sweetheart. it's what makes me so proud of you. taking all my dick likes it's yours to own.”

“it is mine,” you pout sadly.

“mmm,” he tongues his inner cheek before grinning. “you want it back?”

it dawns on you for a second, realizing what he really meant. gulping, you nod. real you will have a conversation with yourself later. you’re dick drunk right now. totally different person.

“show me, then we'll decide.”

his girl. it’s what you are, how you feel. that’s the title that’ll always be yours to hold. doesn’t matter what happens between you two. who may interfere. you’re jean’s girl until death. that’s your man. and you made sure to fuck him good just so he could remember that. picking yourself up and dropping your ass down harder, faster. jean’s hissing, brows bent as he fists your dress he tightened on your stomach rougher. he can’t control himself when he helps you out by lifting his hips to collide with the flush of your skin, groaning deeply, jaw slacking.

“take your fucking dick, baby. take your fuckin’ dick,” jean growls by your ear after you fall forward, crying extremely loud it scares him for a second, thinking you’re in pain. it just so happens you’re overwhelmed with pleasure, the octave in your tone raising higher. it’s a noise he’s never, ever heard emit from you before. it stuns him, so bewildered by it that he halts completely.

“jean, m’ . . . ” it’s too fast the way you switch your position. bringing both your knees on either side of his slim figure, clutching his long hair, pleading and whimpering in his neck. you entire body’s trembling. “pleaseplease.”

jean listens to your sign without hesitation. angling his body to drill his cock into you while holding you down with his arm thrown around your waist, foot implanted on the seat while his other hand spread your cheeks apart, fingers sprawled over your hot skin. balls slapping as your sluice pussy covers his dick. when you cum you’re absolutely gone. laying your forehead against the door, shaking, screaming, crying. all of it is just what he needs cum on the globes of your ass, pulling out swiftly and moaning into your chest.

“you don't know what you do to me.”

visual. visual.

. . . taglist; @dejwrites @indiecursor @massivelynervousprincess @gabzlovesu @emomanswhore @sanwioz @taesd-urag @anajah @rinhoes @festive @erentoes @erenyeagerswhore @caribbeanwifey19 @yooniluvbot444 @cinnitsuki @hannas16 @bubs-world @sintiva @yoshimurah @sailewhoremoon

#jean kirstein x reader #jean smut #jean x y/n #jean x you #jean x reader #snk smut #aot smut #aot jean #snk jean #shingeki no kyojin smut #jean kirstein x black reader #jean kirstein x you #jean kirstein smut #jean imagine #jean x black!reader #anime smut #shingeki no kyoujin imagine #☆. hellavile.

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darklcy · 3 months

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☆ 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧! 𝐀𝐎𝐓 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ☆

this has been in the drafts for a long, long time and i haven’t posted aot in a while, so enjoy :) | also i feel like some of these may be ooc but this was fun to write! just keep in mind this is how i think they’d act in a modern setting, ofc minus the war & trauma

attack on titan masterlist

𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍

skips class to vape

smokes to thundercat & nirvana

flannels flannels flannels

naturally you steal them. acts coy when you do.

“you didn’t steal it, i just let you wear it and didn’t say anything when you went home with it.”

i feel like he’d be into meditating. idk why. like someone said he should do it so now he does a quick 5-min guided meditation every morning

showers with his chain on and gets green neck

doodles on his converse and yours

writes “hi :)” on your homework, journals, notes, etc during class

has a minecraft server w jean, connie and armin

claims he’s not scared of games like outlast or silent hill but everyone knows he’s lying

ends up hiding behind you in haunted houses

LOVES DRIVE THRUS/FAST FOOD. sonic & in n out specifically

toddler sense of humor, like finds things falling over funny (y’all remember the video of the piece of bread falling over-)

doesn’t know how to work pinterest

leans over people’s shoulders to look at their phones

tried getting his cartilage pierced but it got infected

has a few tattoos on his wrists and bicep

will bite you impulsively

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍

you mean my bf

so this boy DOES know how to work pinterest, and has so many boards

one of them is filled w future pets he wants & another one includes house ideas with you :3

is the best language learner and knows french, spanish, and german

can’t watch gory shows like squid game or the walking dead, but enjoys psychological horrors like black swan

has a billion playlists with like 6 songs each

your playlist is titled “lovey” bc i said so

has maybe one lobe piercing. but only one

he goes so hard to TV girl and mac demarco, but also loves singers like sza & jack stauber

LUVS SMOOTHIES

downloaded bumble only for the fun of it once but immediately deleted it when someone liked him

bounces his leg and picks his nails

best. skin. ever. has a good skin care regime

drives a silver toyota prius

super into journaling & drawing :>

such a gentle bf, but lives for gossip

you text him, “you will NOT believe what i just heard.” and he drops everything he’s doing to respond

coffee dates!!!

you two have a stardew farm together with a dog and a bunch of chickens and cows

his favorite character is crobus

i love him very much

𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐒𝐀

hardcore alison from breakfast club vibes

secretly into girl kpop groups

but loves hardcore women, like björk & poppy

definitely owns a lot of platform shoes: has like three pairs of demonias

shaves her brows to draw them on

loves online shopping from aliexpress & etsy

into weird chunky jewelry!! has a necklace with a heavy cat pendant & a pair of eyeball earrings

loves to do your makeup! if you don’t wear a lot daily, she’ll do something for special outings like concerts or even for fun she’ll ask you to let her do it :3

has a tiktok specifically for ootds

favorite foods include spicy ramen, mediterranean meals & ice cream

i feel like she’d be in art class! she’d draw you random portraits or cute versions of you two to put in her scrapbook

oh yeah i also feel like she’d have a scrapbook!!! and keeps a lot of mementos from your dates/hangouts

when you come over, you, her and eren play mario kart

no doubt a spiritual girly: maybe not super into spells but has a tarot deck and a few oracle decks as well as a beautiful incense burner

you two go to goth clubs cuz yeah

her lipstick gets on you all the time

dressed up as lydia deetz one year for halloween

makes rings and necklaces and gives them to you, and she debates on opening an etsy shop

— hope you enjoyed!

#attack on titan #aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin x reader #x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #eren jaeger #eren jeager x reader #mikasa ackerman x reader #mikasa ackerman #aot armin arlert #armin arlert x reader #armin arlert

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egonspenglerishot · 1 month

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sjsndbd you can keep sending me asks i literally do not mind them i love your ideas sm. you're actually helping with muse it's insane.

But since you insist, i had an idea in mind, and then i forgot, and then i saw your reblog and remembered again so !!

could i possibly get another egon x reader (i literally love egon i am not sorry about this) where the reader is a little bit religiously traumatized and they have a call there, but they physically cannot step into the church bc 1) their family went to this church, and 2) everything is coming back after almost forgetting about everything so egon has to comfort them.

Sorry if that's a little dark but that's me being angsty 💀

*rubs hands together* I also have religious trauma so les goooo

“I promise you’re okay Dove”

Egon Spengler x Reader

Warnings: angst, religious trauma, implied 🍇

Panic set in even before you’d gotten into the Ecto 1. The call you’d received was from a church, the Catholic Church to be precise. The one your parents attended when you were young. Egon knew you didn’t like churches somewhat but he thought it was just because you were a scientist and you didn’t believe the stupid bible stories.

You took your meds and got into the Ecto 1 all kitted up and ready. As Ray pulled up to the church your stomach did flips and suddenly you were back to your 7 year old self.

You were only young, seven years old nearly 8. Your parents were taking you to Easter service at the church near your apartment. You were dressed up in a pretty blue dress with a little bow at the back and your hair curled. You never understood why exactly this was so important but you enjoyed the free chocolate.

Of course you’d never worn a dress of this style to church. It came to your knees and was very poofy and femme. The dresses you usually wore were ankle length, and a peachy colour. You didn’t argue though because good girls never argued. As you approached the church the pastor was welcoming everyone, and though you nor your parents saw, he was eyeing you up.

You sat beside your parents and swung your little legs as the ceremony began. You were old enough to volunteer with the little show they put on and let kids get involved with. Of course you begged your parents and it didn’t take much for them to allow you to. The service itself went smoothly, afterward while children were allowed to play outside on the clear patch of grass and adults were sat around picnic tables talking, the pastor called you over into the church. He told you that you looked very pretty in your dress and that he knew God intended you to find a man soon.

This confused you because you were only 7 and boys were so blehhhhh. But you just nodded and smiled and turned to leave. The pastor asked you if you could show him your stockings because they looked so pretty and you foolishly agreed. You thought nothing of it and never mentioned it to your parents. And that’s how it continued every Easter service up until you were 15 and finishing up school.

He tried to get you to strip, going as far as to drag you into the confessional booth and rip your dress. Without going into to much depth he had his way with you and only after you were able to escape and run out screaming and crying. Your dress was in shreds, you were a mess makeup running down your cheeks, and all your parents said was, “you shouldn’t have been tempting him with how short your dress was”

You hadn’t moved from your seat in the Ecto one for a good five minutes, tears were streaming down your cheeks your breathing heavy. Egon told the others to go ahead and he would catch up. They agreed and he waited for you to calm down and come back to the real world. They had things in the car for if Egon ever had a panic attack. He grabbed a sugary drink and something sour for you and that helped you come back to the present.

He held your hand gently and you looked at him. His heart broke seeing how upset you looked. “It’s okay now my dove, I promise you it’s okay Dove”

When the ghost was contained and you were safely in Egons baggy clothes in his bed swaddled up with your favorite drink and snacks Egon put his favorite music on and worked on some paperwork at the desk inside the bedroom. Not even Venkman had cracked a joke about the church, and that was rare.

#ghostbusters egon #ghostbusters angst #ghost busters #ghostbusters peter venkman #ghostbusters x reader #ghostbusters ray stantz #ghostbusters ray #egon spengler angst #egon spengler x reader

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aquaquadrant · 3 months

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do u watch tango's streams at all? but there were htp au crumbs in one of them recently [eyes emoji] Cleo was asking Tango if he had a blaze rod (singular) they could have and when she came to get it from him he said "When you come to me for blaze rods, you're getting more than one!" and tossed them 3. HELLO TRAUMA FROM BEING FARMED AND HAVING THEM FORCIBLY TAKEN FROM HIM-- he'd rather give excessively and "willingly" than ever risk them possibly being taken by force again (even though he knows the hermits would never, his trauma response has him in a chokehold)

WHY YES, yes i do. i’ve been a tango vod watcher for a couple years now and usually do a pretty good job of keeping up, tho oftentimes that means i just have it playing in the bg while i work on other stuff.

which means i can miss things like that which i certainly did bc HOOOLY SHIT U RITE that’s so fitting. tango would absolutely overcompensate like that, in the context of the au cleo prob didn’t even mean one of his own blaze rods but he’s had that ingrained so deeply, ofc he’s gonna wig out a little. oh, poor traumatized tango.

#hels to pay au #HTP ask

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m4ndysk4nkovich · 7 months

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Bro it bothers me sm when ppl are like “Debbie turned out like her mother” or “lip turned out like Frank” or saying that any of the kids turned out like their parents bc they didn’t??? They each have their own struggles and faults, but none of them turned out like their parents as they all broke the cycle??? Idk ppl are just dumb and don’t understand the story 😭😭😭

ok so bee, i saw this ask and i was about to give a normal response to this but then i was like, yk what- fuck it, so here’s a whole ass meta post about generational trauma in shameless and why i also hate this.

(i’m so sorry in advance i’m just crazy)

generational trauma in shameless

shameless is a show that portrays a lot of serious topics, especially topics regarding dysfunctional families, substance abuse, and mental illness. one of those topics portrayed is generational trauma. as someone who comes from a dysfunctional family with a lot of generational trauma, i feel like shameless portrayed this so well.

the first generation to start this (that we really got information about) is frank and monica’s parents. we learned the most about frank’s parents, so i’ll start off there. we learned the most about peggy gallagher, frank’s mother (who- fyi, debbie was kind of named after since peggy’s real name is margaret and that’s debbie’s middle name, so that adds to the whole generational trauma thing but whatever), peggy was an abusive monster. she had four sons, and her least favorite was frank. this was very apparent. she treats frank (and monica, we know she hated monica even though we never saw them together) like shit, and in 4x11, we learn that she raped frank as a child. in season 2, she gets out after being in prison for around eleven years and found joy in humiliating frank + could’ve killed carl with their meth lab. she sucked. her husband was also bad. we didn’t learn much about frank’s father, but we know that much like his son, he was an abusive drunk. he used to make frank wear a dress and would beat him. frank had a very traumatic childhood, which definitely played into the way he parented his children and decided to spend his adulthood. we don’t know a lot about monica’s parents, but we know that frank says that monica’s parents ruined her. monica’s mother is mentioned once in 3x06, where she’s calling fiona and forgets who monica is. one can infer she had dementia or something like it, and it’s implied she died by season 7. speaking of season 7, that’s where we meet her father, bill. bill is a crude man who criticizes everything. we know that he had little involvement in his daughter’s life, and was a army man, making monica a military brat.

so, one abusive addict parent and one uninvolved parent. sound familiar?

i don’t think i need to explain much about frank and monica, but i will anyways. frank and monica made fiona on accident and monica didn’t want her, not long after lip was born, frank went to rehab and monica and clayton made ian. when debbie was born, frank wanted to sell her. when carl was born, monica left not long after. when liam was born, monica, yet again, left weeks later. monica is uninvolved, and frank isn’t necessarily uninvolved, but he isn’t really involved either. frank was the black sheep of the family and the least favorite. his father hit him (we’re lead to believe he was the only one who was hit) and he seemed to have had it pretty rough, maybe it’s just me, but when i hear that, i think of ian. monica and frank are both victims of their environment. being a military brat, monica most likely moved around a lot and felt very lonely. so, she found comfort in the lifestyle that was moving constantly, and didn’t really grasp the concept of two parents being there constantly. that, her addiction, and her disorder played parts in her parenting style. frank grew up humiliated and was smart, but became an addict and a drop out. he tried to improve his life on multiple occasions but failed each time. i will die on the hill that both frank and monica loved their kids, but not enough, not in the right way. something i feel very strongly about due to my own experiences is that you must heal before becoming a parent. growing up with unhealed parents puts you into a position nobody should be put it.

on the topic of growing up with unhealed parents, we have lip and debbie. lip and debbie both have hero complexes, and also both have always wanted nothing more than to have children. lip is an alcoholic, and one of the ways he copes with this and keeps his sobriety is by putting other people’s problems before his own. debbie is troubled, to say the least (it’s implied that she struggles with borderline personality disorder), and to cope with her crippling loneliness she self sabotages and prostitutes herself. in season 2, the possibility of lip being a teen dad was there and lip was willing to ruin his entire life for a kid that he wasn’t even sure was his. in season 3, he takes in mandy’s half-sister to save her from foster care. in season 8/9, he rescues xan and tries to become her guardian. ian describes him as the closest thing to a dad all of the gallagher siblings have ever had. in debbie’s case, from season 1 we learn about her caring nature. we see her care for her father, aunt ginger, and her babydoll. in the next season, she starts her own daycare and cares for those babies. she has wanted nothing more than her own family since her first appearance. she gets pregnant at fourteen and by fifteen, destroys a lot of her life for her baby. she likes feeling wanted and having a family and she loves caring for her daughter. (it’s also worth mentioning the similarities between frank and fiona and monica and ian, but that’s for another day).

so now, here’s the question: are lip and debbie frank and monica?

i’d say no. lip is still struggling with active addiction, by season 11, he is not recovered, he relapsed and the ending is so ambiguous (purposefully, every character’s ending was left up to interpretation) that we don’t really know what’s going on with him pre-11x12. but there is that scene where lip gives fred this speech about how frank was an addict, and gave lip alcohol as a kid, and now lip’s an addict. and lip tells freddie that he would never do that to him. i feel like that alone gives us the assurance that lip isn’t like frank (in that way). but is debbie monica? also no. many fans are inlove with the idea of debbie abandoning franny, it seems to be all they talk about, but as a self-proclaimed debbie expert (lol) i’d say that that’s blasphemy. debbie would go through hell for franny, and in 11x08 delivers a monologue about why she will never leave franny. that doesn’t mean she’s a flawless mother, she isn’t, but she’s also twenty. i think that the most confirmation we have that debbie isn’t like her mother is in season 7 when she loses franny. she goes through absolute hell over losing her child. monica gets franny back and claims to relate, but debbie (and viewers) can tell that it’s different. we know that the gallagher’s were taken away on multiple occasions, and we know that when monica found out her kids were taken from her, instead of coming home, she willingly signed the rights to them away.

anyways. i completely agree that they are not like their parents; are they like them in certain ways? absolutely. but i also fully believe that the two of them are breaking the cycle. fred and franny will grow up and never have to worry about having a roof over their heads, they will never worry about not having food in their stomachs, they will never find themselves without a parent for a year or two. they will, hopefully, grow up with no substance abuse issues and no mental health issues. hopefully.

#cw: rape #cw: abuse #cw: substance abuse #cw: generational trauma #shameless #shameless us #shameless meta #peggy gallagher #bill darrgen #frank gallagher #monica gallagher #lip gallagher #debbie gallagher #freddie gallagher #franny gallagher #you: sends a simple ask #me: *writes an entire essay*#in advance- i didn’t read this before posting because i’m too busy so if there are errors mb

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takecareluv · 2 years

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i have a request :D vinnie gets scared after watching a horror movie with reader so she ends up comforting him

a.n. hope you enjoy, luv! i do not like scary movies and have only ever watched one which was like seven years ago so i’m very uncultured when it comes to them so i didn’t specify what movie or other details about it like that bc i don’t know any haha, hope that’s okay! xoxo 🤍

you big baby || vinnie hacker x reader

you were never one to watch horror movies, in fact you hated them. why would someone want to intentionally scare themselves for an hour and a half straight, and then be on edge the next few days following? what was the point? you never understood.

however, with the upcoming release of the sequel to one of the most popular horror movies known to date, your boyfriend had been begging you to watch it with him.

you were extremely hesitant of course. "i already have trouble sleeping as it is, do you want me to never sleep again?" you questioned vinnie after he asked you for the fourth time that day.

"no one's coming to get you, i promise. and if they do, i'll protect you baby." he quickly responded in attempt to persuade you.

"you're not gonna let this go are you?" you groaned.

"nope," he said, emphasizing the p in it, "c'mon just say yes already. for me, please." he continued to beg, giving you those puppy dog eyes he knew you couldn't refuse.

"fine-"

"yes!"

"BUT..."

"here we go, what do you want?" he asked sarcastically.

"you have to buy the snacks and ice cream. and we have to watch a lighthearted movie after so I can hopefully forget the trauma of (insert horror movie)."

"deal."

"i'm not done. you have to cuddle me whenever i want for the next week. oh and i want pasta for dinner from that place we like."

"is that all?" he deadpanned.

"almost," you said with a giggle, "you can never ask me to watch a scary movie ever again."

"okay, baby. you know i would've done all that stuff anyway." he remarked, amused by all your demands.

"yeah, yeah. whatever." you replied while rolling your eyes.

an hour later you and vinnie returned home with a bag full of snacks in one arm, and your requested pasta in another.

you made your way back up to your shared bedroom, immediately getting cozy in bed and opening up the food while vinnie unfortunately began the movie.

thirty minutes in and it wasn't as scary as you originally thought, it was actually quite funny in your opinion. although, the boy holding on to you for dear life and hiding his face in your neck might beg to differ.

you could feel him jump every other second and by the end of the movie you could tell he was petrified, running to turn the lights on as quickly as possible.

"well that was... something." he said, turning to you and jumping out of his skin when he saw hera pop out of nowhere from the corner of his eye."

you held back a giggle, "oh c'mere you big baby." holding out your arms for him, which he instantly fell into, cuddling further into your chest.

"I thought you were the one who was supposed to protecting me," you joked.

"shut up," he mumbled against you.

you just laughed in response, running your hands through his hair knowing that always calmed him. with your other hand, you grabbed the remote and searched for another movie to put on that you knew for a fact had no jump scares that would further traumatize vinnie, and pressed play.

not too long after you noticed the soft snores coming from vinnie and only a few minutes later were you joining him in dream land. with the bedroom lights still on of course.

at least you knew he definitely would not be asking you to watch a horror movie anytime soon.

#vinnie hacker fanfic #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie hacker blurb #vinnie hacker x y/n #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker x you #vinnie hacker

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thereisnolumos · 1 year

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Want to discuss(or more like vent) about how horrible a character ron weasley is? Both in general and just how badly written he is. Also what's your opinion of Ginny Weasley? I dislike her character too and I think shes badly written.

I’m always ready to bash the Ronald Weasley👌🏼

1) He’s misogynistic to every single woman he meets (maaaaybee except McGonagall, but he’s scared of her, soooo…). Literally, he slutshames his sister for kissing a boy (she wasn’t even doing it in public, not that it would’ve justified his behavior), thinks of women in terms of “fuckable/dateble/attractive” only, is only ever nice to Hermione when he either needs smth from her, or against Snape. And his hatred towards Snape plays a much bigger role here.

2) He’s basically useless in the story. Except for the chess game in PS he isn’t needed for the story to progress. Everything he does can be easily done by pretty much any other character. And better so.

3) He’s stupid. Like extremely so. Many characters are not excelling at school, but are smart otherwise. Or they’re not excelling simply bcs they don’t try that much/don’t care. But he’s struggling even when focused and determined and is stupid overall in life. Neither a book smart, nor a street smart going for him. He doesn’t even have his own aspirations in life, it’s constantly a repeat of someone else’s. He wants to play quidditch not because he’s good at it (he’s almost terrible) or he likes it a lot, but because all the brothers he liked (sorry Percy, I like you a lot) played it, because Harry plays it. He chooses the same subjects as Harry before 3rd year (I actually don’t remember whom chose first, but I’m pretty sure it was done randomly), chooses the same profession on 5th year, etc. He’s never his own person, he’s barely a person for his written as “a best friend” and his lousy even at this

4) He’s a bad friend. He’s constantly jealous and allows it to take over him on multiple occasions. He refuses to acknowledge people’s trauma and problems. This goes to all Weasley’s except for Percy, who at least noticed smth was off: they didn’t fucking notice their little sister was POSSESSED for an entire year. A+ family…

I can continue, but I’d like to see your points:)

Ginny… I think she has a potential of becoming a cool character, but she wasn’t. She was written to be with Harry and be awesome at quidditch (which was what made him notice her, so…) But I can see how she can be a great character in fandom with necessary changes. Ron cannot be a good character, unless you scrape everything clean and start over, so it won’t be him anymore.

JKR cannot write women to save her life due to her misogyny. In her eyes, the only good quality a woman can have is being a mother…

But I agree, that Ginny and Harry probably won’t make it as couple. They’re too young, both waaay too traumatized. My headcanon is that they date again after the war is over, and while they’re rebuilding Hogwarts, finish their education there, all that. But then Harry decides to leave the country for a while (a long while) and they just separate, no hard feelings. Their lives move in different directions but they remain friends.

(I also have a headcanon that Ron never returned in DH, because that plot made no sense and was written simply because JKR wrote that, with no substance under it)

#rant #harry potter #ronald weasley #ron weasley bashing #anti ron weasley #anti ron #ginny weasley #ask #answer

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jemmo · 4 months

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rambles on that last twilight ending

my thoughts on the last twilight ending are so??? im gonna need to sit on this one for a while, bc i loved this show so whole-heartedly that i don’t want to write it off bc of a ‘bad ending’, but it also means it’s hard to reconcile that the ending was… well, i don’t think it was bad. i think it deserves more thought than that, but i don’t think it did what it wanted to, nor did it keep with what the shows message was, or should have been. and we can say it’s as simple as day shouldn’t have got his sight back, but I don’t think that was the only thing. if he stayed blind, the ending still wouldn’t have hit right for me. none of it hit right from the end of ep 11 bc it’s like I could feel the intent of the writing, but it’s not what the writing actually was. and if it was given maybe 3ish more episodes and all these characters were given more time, i think an ending like this could’ve worked. but again, it all comes down to that damn ep 11 curse that I thought p’aof was better than, bc you can’t squeeze everything that needed to be reconciled after this breakup and everything they wanted to do into one ep, not with this show.

i didn’t hate the idea of a breakup. if you’re going with the narrative of mohk having a fear of being away from day bc of his trauma and so on then fine, that works. and so it works that they had to be away from each other to grow in that way, but I do think it was unkind to mohk to send him away on that note. some understanding, and day wanting him to go for his own good would’ve felt kinder, and even if they were his real intentions, they didn’t communicate that either. it just felt like day had no empathy for him. and yes he was probably hurting too feeling like no one was trusting him, but whatever, it could’ve been done better. and if they wanted to play on anything else, then hey there was that whole bit with the car and day thinking mohk was looking after him just for the money, why not use that and the fact the opportunities mohk got in his career were connections bc he was with day. day could’ve been like well that was the whole point, you don’t work for me forever, you can do whatever you want now, or even just played more on him feeling like he’s holding mohk back. idk, i just mean if this breakup was going to turn out to be 3 years, no contact at all, which it did, it should’ve felt bigger than a 5 second argument.

anyway, then the finale comes and again, if they’d given more reason for a breakup, i would’ve understand more why day keeps on denying mohk a second chance, which i already don’t like the phrasing of bc it makes out like he did something wrong and needs to earn a second chance which he doesn’t. the whole thing would’ve been more understandable if this was day realizing that they both grew and found happiness in what they’re doing and he didn’t want to ruin that when the breakup meant it could happen. or they could’ve completely 180-ed and shown that one of them wasn’t happy, or both, idk mohk had no one in the states and was incredibly hurt and lonely, day was struggling after losing mohk like he did and reinforcing the idea that he couldn’t be independent made him retreat again. just anything would’ve given more strength behind a need to push away, and would have made it more satisfying when love overcomes it all blah blah blah.

and as much as i liked the airport scene and the fact day did go after him, do you know what would’ve been more impactful? day, knowing his full ability, and going against his mom who still worries for his safety or going bc of his mom seeing that he’s not truly happy, bc both could’ve worked given different writing, getting on a plane by himself and going after mohk, seeing him be able to traverse it all. for once we watch day by himself and unlike at the start of the show, we’re not constantly scared he’s gonna get hurt, bc he’s confident and able now and we can just watch him go after mohk and be excited about it, like the end to any other romance story. and it would’ve meant mohk got this moment where, after looking after day so much and getting broken up with bc he cared too much, he gets to see day caring for him that much too.

and the sight thing. yes, with the time they had they shouldn’t have done it, it should’ve been that they manage to find their own happiness despite it all, then the whole show would’ve been about day accepting his situation and standing up for his own ability and his own right to independence and happiness, and it would’ve meant mohk could overcome his fear of loss and guilt over his sister and learn that he isn’t to blame for anything, bc now day can make his own decisions and is ok on his own. now if there was more time, i could’ve seen it working, but only with stronger writing. I would’ve loved to have seen a conversation over day getting his sight back, maybe him not wanting it bc he’s accepted the way he is much like how some deaf people don’t want implants, and the opposing argument of how not all people in his place can have the possibility of seeing again. we could’ve seen fear in the opposite direction now that he’s used to his life, and that damn first scene of part 4, we could’ve seen him then wanting to go out into the world and look after people like him, just like mohk did for him, bc mohk made him see the importance of having someone there for you that cares for you and sees you as a person, as normal, not as your disability. and funnily enough, do you know what made me cry at the end of it? then showing the pictures that were taken when day was blind. that’s the kind of thing i wanted to see, and wished i did if they had more time. day getting his sight back but still showing how connected he is to who he was at that time and while not being thankful for it happening, being thankful for the way he’s grown, and loving the person he sees in those pictures. to go from someone who hid himself and his blindness to someone who shares his story and helps and advocates vocally for those like him, despite not being blind anymore. that way you still get to give day his sight back as your happily ever after but manage to retain the message.

so yeah. they missed the ball. but i also want to remove this idea that an ending ruins a whole show. at the end of the day, it’s one ep, and when a show has done so much good in all its other eps, at least in my eyes, that’s the stuff I’d rather talk about and remember.

#for me this is a classic case of don’t just try to squeeze it all into one ep bc that’s all you’ve got left #you can’t just put it all in and rush through it doesn’t mean you convey the same message it all gets muddled #it might not be your original vision but you have to work with the time you’ve got #oh p’aof #this is me setting down a gauntlet to not separate your characters to different countries for years before a reunion #it only worked for bad buddy bc you played us #this? yeah. didn’t hit how it should #last twilight

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dykenav · 1 year

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[this post is about the succession SEASON ONE finale bc I’m ten years behind]

anyway like the way denial was the emotional undercurrent of everything in this episode…. starting with tom telling greg to shut up so he can block out the truth of shiv’s infidelity, to roman and the launch and just immediately shutting it off and pretending like it didn’t happen, and us as the viewer feeling the absolute horror realizing that people could have DIED, and seeing the utter disconnect in Roman, watching a livestream on his phone like it’s a video game, going back into this huge fucking party, the party itself being the physical place to symbolize the utter isolation and social disconnection of the filthy rich from the rest of the world. the tension building while we’re like jesus christ did he fucking kill people?? and then he finds out oh no, it’s just two thumbs and an arm, what a RELIEF, and we as the viewer vicariously accepting that relief as a lesser horror while still seeing the horror. the way it mirrors the horror of the first episode when roman rips up a fucking MILLION DOLLAR check in front of a poor kid. reminding us that while we might relate to their human foils and emotions, the absolute SCALE of their faults and ignorances have such massive, unfathomable consequences by virtue of their power. and then you have. fucking kendall. and the kid in the car. and it’s the exact same situation. and the thing that makes it so fucking VISCERAL is that it doesn’t jump cut to the next day. we stay with him the whole fucking time as he walks away from that scene. we watch him break back into his hotel, wash himself like fucking lady macbeth. make his way back to the party. dance with his fucking kids. the dissonance is so fucking strong. it’s like coming back to omelas after seeing the tortured child. what can you do but pretend? and tell me you haven’t fucking been there before. tell me you haven’t been at that party, where something horrible and unspeakable is happening inside of you but you have to dance and smile anyway. we all know what it’s like to be in denial. it’s human. and yet the consequences of these people’s denial, by virtue of their power, is so vast and sickening, that it becomes inhuman. they’re not inherently evil people, but the circumstances of their wealth and privilege takes their shortcomings and corrupts them into poison and bombs. all of that accumulating to logan psychologically exploiting kendall in his moment of trauma, kendall breaking down and crying like a kid, and of course he would, ANYONE would, but he’s not anyone, these people aren’t anyone. I don’t mean they’re not human, I mean the opposite. they are human children playing an elaborate game of pretend with the rest of the fucking world as their dolls. they’re not masterminds. they’re toddlers demanding to be loved and blowing shit up in the process. and it’s easy to watch and say, wow that is so fucked up. but who am I if I act like I can fully separate myself from this story and be like “welp, anyway! back to bed!” without recreating that same denial? who are any of we to act like we’re not in some way complicit to the horror of the world when in order to function and live our lives we have to completely compartmentalize the part of our brain that comprehends the news? I’m not saying a normal person is in any way shape or form as responsible as a billionaire, nor am I saying there’s any moral answer to this. I’m just saying……….. fuck

#sorry but like. jesus christ. I need a therapy session #succession #succession meta #succession season 1

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mayhem24-7forever · 2 years

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The Littlest Cowgirl and the Mean Old Bull (Whumptober 2022)

Whumptober Prompts (from this list): Lies - New Scars - Breathing Through The Pain

Character: Rhett Abbott (Outer Range)

Author’s Notes: If you are not over eighteen, this is not for you! I deserve a safe place to express myself and that includes not wanting minors to read my content, even when it is not sexual in nature. Thank you. I am REALLY sorry that this is late but I really am trying my best okay! I actually switched this with day 15 bc I had no inspiration for that day and I wanted to write this one lmao. HUGE thank you to @jostystyles for looking over this for me, this is for you baby. fic dividers by my darling @a-reader-and-a-writer, thank you so so much

Warnings: ANGST, bull riding, graphic descriptions of violence and injuries, blood and gore, low key religious trauma, hospitals, misplaced guilt, (AKA Jo traumatizes Rhett’s five year old daughter for 4.5k words)

“Momma hurry up! We’re gonna miss daddy’s ride!” the little girl called, dragging her mother towards the stands and through the crowd by the hand.

“Slow down Annie!” Y/N laughed, shaking her head as her five year old daughter plowed through the crowd of adults without hesitation. “We have time!”

Angelica Abbott was definitely her father’s daughter, all attitude and sass, just like Rhett. She stomped through, weaving through the legs of the crowd, her tiny pink cowgirl boots kicking up tiny clouds of dust as she went. For her outfit that evening (she always dressed up for daddy’s rodeos), she had chosen to dress in a miniature matching version of what her father was wearing, a dark blue flannel and jeans, her hair braided into two tails under her pink cowgirl hat.

She didn’t slow down, not satisfied until her and her mother had taken their seats in the stands with grandpa Royal. The rodeo was on the other side of the state from Wabang as it was a big competition and so Rhett and his wife had decided to make it into a little vacation for Annie. Royal had come to see his son compete in the biggest competition of his career, Cecelia staying home to watch Amy as Perry had gone on another bender and as such was unfit. Annie climbed up the stands and hopped into her grandfather’s lap as her mother trailed behind her, out of breath from chasing and calling after the rambunctious child.

“Angelica, what have I told you about runnin’ away from your mama?” Royal asked as sternly as he could, struggling to stop himself from smiling at her adorably grumpy face.

Royal’s grandchildren were his weakness and one look from Amy or Annie would have him giving in to give them whatever they wanted, a fact they both took advantage of. Y/N huffed out a final breath as she sat down next to her father-in-law.

“Mama’s too slow!” Annie whined and Royal chuckled. “Daddy’s about to ride and we were gonna miss it!”

“Your father doesn’t ride for another ten minutes, little one.” Royal supplied and Annie giggled as she shrugged.

Annie settled back in her grandfather’s lap, leaning back against his chest and peering down at the ring and the bull pens behind it. The three of them played I Spy for a while to kill the time, Annie giggling when she chose to describe the same trailer for the third turn in a row.

“Oh look! It’s daddy!” Y/N said and Annie sat up, looking to where her mom was pointing at the back of the ring to find her father getting ready to mount the bull in it’s tiny pen.

“Daddy!” she squealed and Rhett turned to wave at her with a big smile, Annie waving back frantically.

“I love you, Angel!” he called back, his nickname for her barely audible from so far with so much noise around them.

Rhett turned to focus on mounting the bull when Annie’s face suddenly dropped.

“Oh no!” she cried out and her mother and grandfather looked to her in concern. “I didn’t give daddy his good luck kiss! I always give him his good luck kiss before he rides!”

“It’s alright sweetheart, just you being here to watch him is all the luck he’ll ever need.” Royal assured her.

She watched nervously as Rhett struggled to mount the bull, the handlers barely able to get him on it. Annie had never seen that happen and it made her stomach twist into knots. She turned to her mother, leaning practically onto her lap and got her attention as the man on the speakers started talking.

“Mama?” she said quietly and her mother leaned in to hear her daughter over the announcer. “My tummy hurts.”

“Oh, I’m sorry baby, we can go back to the hotel right after daddy finishes his ride.” Y/N assured her and Annie frowned.

“Need to go now!” she insisted, pouting.

“Sweetheart, daddy is about to ride. Eight seconds and he’s off and we can go, okay?” her mother asked and Annie reluctantly nodded, settling back into her grandfather’s lap uneasily.

Annie had seen a lot of her father’s rides over her very short life, whether it was in a sling wrapping her against her mother’s body, nestled on her grandmother’s lap, or perched high up on her grandfather’s shoulders. A few times, her father had fallen off or had a rough landing but he always got back up with minimal injuries, usually just some cuts and bruises, a sprain or two at the worst.

Whenever that happened, Rhett would sit on a chair in the kitchen as Y/N cleaned and bandaged his cuts and put ice on his bruises. Annie would be perched on the kitchen table or on his lap, using her little toy first aid kit to help her momma. She liked playing nurse to help her daddy feel better when he was hurt. Rhett would always end up covered in dozens of flowery and sparkly little bandaids, whether he needed them or not (and usually he didn’t).

“Daddy just got a little banged up by the mean old bull, baby.” he would assure her, her little fingers tracing over the scars, both new and old on his chest. “I’m just lucky I have you and your mama–best nurses in Amelia county–to always take care of me.”

Annie usually loved to watch her father ride bulls but as she waited for the ride to start, that bad feeling in her stomach got worse and worse. The bullhorn sounded and the gates were thrown open, the bull launching out of the shoot, Rhett hanging onto its back for dear life. She tried to count the seconds like her grandmother had taught her to do between lightning and thunder to know how far away a storm was.

One-one thousand. The crowd including her grandfather shot to their feet, hooting and hollering.

Two-one thousand. The bull bucked over and over again, bellowing in anger at the man on his back.

Three-one thousand. Rhett’s hat flew off his head, landing in the dirt below the angry bull’s stomping hooves and quickly being trampled.

Four-one thousand. The halfway point, Rhett still holding on tightly to the reins even as the bull got angrier and angrier, trying harder and harder to throw him off.

Five-one thousand. The dust cloud kicked up by the bull got bigger and bigger, almost hiding the image of Rhett perched on it’s back, his hand up in the air just like in the tattoo on his chest.

Six-one thousand. One of the ropes on the bull snapped, Rhett’s grip slipping as the entire saddle was knocked loose.

Seven-one thousand. Rhett’s body was flung off of the bucking bull, hitting the ground with a sickening smacking noise inaudible over the loud collective gasp of the crowd as the angry bull charged in to attack with swinging horns and stomping hooves.

The handlers were good at their jobs, getting the bull roped and pulled away from him in mere moments. Within seconds, Rhett’s unmoving body was swarmed by about a dozen handlers and blocking the crowd’s view of him. The crowd had gone deathly silent but as the bull was pulled back into its pen, they began to murmur in hushed whispers. Royal and Y/N were frozen in shock, unable to stop Annie when she wriggled out of her grandfather’s arms and took off down the stairs and towards the pen.

“Angelica, no!” Y/N screamed, racing after her but Annie didn’t listen.

“DADDY!” Annie screamed, sliding between the legs of some officials and into the ring before anyone could stop her, tears streaming down her cheeks as she ran towards the circle of bodies surrounding her father.

Rhett’s brain was pounding in his skull, his eyes struggling to focus on anything but the bright lights of the arena as half a dozen dark figures hovered above him, their panicked voices overlapping.

“Don’t move Rhett! Just don’t move!”

“Jesus fucking Christ-”

“The paramedics are coming, alright?”

“Abbott, blink twice if you can hear me!”

“Oh my God…”

“Do not move!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

He tuned them out, lying there in the dirt as he attempted to breathe through the agonizing pain on every inch of his body. Something warm and wet was pooling below his left leg and he couldn’t move his left arm at all. He blinked hard as the figures above him came in and out of focus, the same horrified look on every one of their faces. His whole body ached and he groaned in pain when someone tried to touch him. But he didn’t care. All that mattered was making sure his baby girl didn’t see him like that, especially as he heard a small but loud voice shrieking “Daddy!” and wailing in distress. He turned his head as much as he could to look between the legs of the others to see a tiny figure sprinting towards him from across the ring.

“Stop her… can’t… see me… like this.” Rhett rasped, a bit of blood coming out of his mouth as he wheezed in pain.

Luckily, one of the handlers was able to grab her before she got close enough to see him and Rhett could hear her screaming as she was handed off to Royal, who had been hot on her heels. Her voice got further and further away, her grandfather evidently carrying her away despite her loud protests. The men around Rhett parted enough to let Y/N through and she collapsed onto her knees at his side, her terrified eyes raking over his body and taking stock of his injuries. The protective vest seemed to have shielded his chest from the bull’s horns but his legs were not as lucky. He had a huge gash on his left leg, blood pouring forth through a tear in both chaps and jeans. His left arm was smashed, bones jutting out at impossible angles and he was having great difficulty breathing, his chest rising and falling unsteadily at uneven intervals with a rattling wheeze accompanying each breath.

“Oh my God, baby…” she gasped, shaky hands covering her mouth in shock, tears beginning to pour out of the corner of her eyes as she turned to scream at the men standing around. “Where the fuck are the medics! We need a fucking ambulance! Don’t just fucking stand there!”

Rhett chuckled a little at his wife’s fiery rage before the laugh turned to a cough, more blood spraying from his mouth which pulled her attention back to him. Her hands flew to his face, cradling him as she moved strands of his long hair off of his sweaty forehead. Grunting with effort, he moved to place his right hand on hers and she eagerly took it, trying to keep him from moving too much.

“It’s okay baby, don’t move. The medics are coming through the gate right now, okay?” she assured him and he nodded slightly, gazing up into his beautiful wife’s sad eyes. “Just hold on, baby. You’re gonna be just fine, Rhett.”

He squeezed her hand and gave her a small smile.

“I love you, baby. If I don’t get to tell you again, I love you so damn much.” Rhett said and she shook her head, shushing him.

“No, don’t think like that, okay? You’re gonna be alright and you can tell me again later.” she replied, crying as she looked down at her husband. “I love you and Annie loves you and you’re not going anywhere.”

“Our little angel didn’t see me like this, right?” he asked and she shook her head.

“No, your father took her outside the ring.” she assured him and he breathed out in relief.

“Tell her I’m okay.” he said weakly and they both knew it was a lie. “Tell her daddy is just a little more bruised up than usual from the mean old bull.”

Y/N nodded, unable to speak through her tears as the paramedics kneeled beside them, dropping his hand reluctantly when a rodeo official gently eased her up and away from him so they had room to work. She felt like she was in a nightmare as she was led out of the ring, glancing backwards every few seconds to watch them strap him onto a board and carry him into an ambulance.

Everything had been a blur of tears to Annie ever since her grandfather had carried her out of the ring, ignoring her angry fists pounding on his chest and her screamed demands to be taken back. An ambulance with flashing lights and sirens pulled up to the gate of the ring and drove inside as some rodeo officials ushered Royal and Annie into an office in the back of the arena. When another official brought Y/N in a few minutes later, Annie was still blubbering into her grandfather’s neck as he shushed her and stroked her back. The second she saw her mother Annie reached for her and was pulled into her mother’s arms, Royal holding the pair comfortingly.

The officials talked with Royal and Y/N for a while but Annie wasn’t paying attention, instead continuing to cry as she clung to her mother. They were brought out to a car and driven back to their hotel, her mother telling her that daddy was going to the hospital but that they couldn’t see him until he felt a little better. Royal thanked the man who drove them, his comforting arm around his daughter-in-law’s shoulder as they headed for their rooms, Royal deciding to stay in their room for the night.

When they had made the reservations, Royal had his own room while Rhett’s family took a room with two beds, one for Rhett and Y/N and the other for Annie. Annie had been very excited to have her own big big-girl bed as a vacation treat, although most nights she ended up sleeping in her parents’ bed anyways as she found out she didn’t like sleeping in such a big bed all alone. Royal excused himself to go out onto the balcony to call Cecelia and let her know what had happened while Y/N struggled to get Annie through her nighttime routine.

Annie refused to take a bath and even threw her favorite bath toy (a rubber duck with a cowboy hat) at her mother, yelling that she wanted her daddy. Y/N tried to stay calm and keep it together, feeling just as upset as her daughter but unlike the little girl, she had responsibilities, trying to remember that Annie was only acting out because she was scared and she didn’t fully comprehend what was happening. Y/N was able to get her into her pajamas and coax her to lay down on her bed, falling into a restless sleep, crying in her mother’s arms, squeezing her favorite stuffed animal, Bessie the pink cow, tightly.

Rhett had been showing Annie all the animals on the ranch one day when she asked why some of the cows were black and white, but others were brown. He told her that the color of the cow showed what kind of milk they made: the black and white cows making regular milk, the brown ones making chocolate milk, and pink cows making strawberry milk. Annie had asked why they didn’t have any pink cows on the ranch and Rhett told her it was because they were “so super rare” only special pink cow farms could have them, which disappointed her. A few days later, she found a little stuffed pink cow sitting on her bed, her mother shaking her head and smiling at how much Rhett spoiled her.

Annie woke up a little bit later, the lights all off and she couldn’t stop thinking about her daddy’s accident, convinced it was her fault because she forgot to give him his good luck kiss beforehand. She crawled out of Y/N’s arms, careful not to wake her and hopped of the bed, kneeling next to it with her hands together in front of her like grandma had taught her.

"Dear Mr. Jesus, I know I don't pray to you as much as gramma wants me to but please save my daddy.” Annie begged, choking on her whispered pleas as tears began to stream down her face again. “I'm really sorry I didn't give him his good luck kiss before his ride but please make him get better. I swear i'll never forget to give him his good luck kiss again, I'm sorry. I’ll eat all my veggies without complaining and I’ll do my letter books for school and listen to mama when she tells me to clean my room. I swear I’ll be good, I swear I’ll be a good girl, Mr. Jesus sir, please save my daddy."

Satisfied with her prayer, she she padded across the carpeted room to the bathroom, dragging Bessie on the ground behind her. Once she had finished her business, she noticed that her grandfather was still out on the balcony with his head in his hands. She walked over and tried to open the heavy glass sliding door but couldn’t reach the handle. Gently, she tapped on the glass and Royal turned to reveal a tear-stained face. Wiping his eyes quickly, he leaned over and opened the door, giving his granddaughter the best smile he could muster as she stepped outside into the cool night air, her tiny feet quick to cross the cold cement.

“What are you doing up, little one?” he asked, voice hoarse and raw from crying as he lifted her up into his lap.

“Had to go potty.” she answered, reaching up to place her little hand on his cheek, still wet with tears. “Were you crying grampa?”

Royal nodded, eyes overflowing with tears again, and Annie gave him a big hug. She had never seen her grandfather cry before but she wanted to make him feel better so she did what he did every time she cried and hugged him tightly.

“Grampa?” Annie asked quietly after a minute and he pulled back to look at her.

“Yes, darlin’?” he asked and she looked up at him nervously.

“Is daddy gonna be okay?” she asked with wide eyes, the same blue eyes as her father and suddenly Royal felt as if he had been thrown back in time to when he had first held Rhett in his arms. “Are the doctors gonna make him all better?”

“I don’t know, darlin’...” he answered honestly, stroking her hair as she picked at Bessie’s fabric, avoiding his eyes. “The doctors are gonna do everything they can but ultimately we don’t know what’s gonna happen. But I’ll tell you what I do know…”

“What, grampa?” she asked, head snapping up to look at him as she listened intently.

“Your daddy is a fighter, he always has been, ever since he was as little as you.” he told her, trying to keep himself from crying again as he looked down at her, so full of fear and hope. “He’s one tough son of a bitch like me and he’s gonna fight as hard as he can to make it back to you and your mama.”

“You said a no no word, grampa.” she said with a little giggle that made him smile despite everything.

“I suppose I did.” he chuckled. “Don’t tell your grandmama I said that and I won’t tell your mama that you’re up this late. It can be our little secret, deal?”

“Deal!” she replied, curling up in his arms again with her head on his chest, holding Bessie tightly as she drifted to sleep listening to his steady heartbeat.

He waited until he was sure that she was asleep before he got up and carried her back inside, putting her back down next to her mother. He tucked them in, Annie instinctively curling up against Y/N in her sleep, and gave them both a kiss on the forehead before heading over to the other bed to try and sleep.

“Annie, baby, wake up.” Her mother’s voice said, gently coaxing her awake and she opened her eyes to find herself looking up at her mother’s smiling face. “The hospital called. Daddy is okay and we can visit him now!”

Annie sat up quickly, eyes wide with surprise.

“Really?” she asked and Y/N nodded.

“We’re gonna go get some breakfast while we wait for visiting hours to begin and then we’re gonna go see him.” she told her daughter with a smile, stroking her hair comfortingly.

“The doctors made him all better?” Annie asked.

“Well, he’s still not feeling all better yet, he’s still hurt but the doctors said that he’s gonna be okay now.” Y/N assured her. “And in a few days, they’re gonna let him out of the hospital and we’ll all get to go home, alright baby?”

Annie nodded and gave her mom a hug before they got ready to go, Annie deciding she wanted to wear her pretty yellow sunday dress to go see him, Y/N grateful she had the forethought to pack it even though they hadn’t planned on going to church. After all three were ready, they walked across the street to a restaurant, Royal carrying his grand daughter as she rambled on about what kind of pancakes she wanted and how they had to bring some to Rhett. Royal and Y/N talked about adult stuff Annie didn’t understand while they ate breakfast, Annie tearing into her chocolate chip pancakes and drowning them in syrup. She was very excited when her mama let her order hot chocolate and she sipped away at it while her grandfather talked about medical and financial stuff with her mother.

Annie made sure they ordered a plate of food for Rhett, telling the waitress that she needed to please make sure the box was closed tight because they had to take it to the hospital for her daddy and she didn’t want to spill anything. When Royal was paying the check at the cash register up front, the waitress gave Annie a cookie and handed over the box for Rhett, which she said was ‘on the house’, although Annie didn’t understand how it could be on the house if they were in it. Either way, Y/N thanked her and the trio headed outside and across the street again.

The car from the previous night came to pick them up again and drive them to the hospital, dropping them off right at the front doors. They stopped in the gift shop so Annie could pick out some flowers for her father while Royal asked the staff for Rhett’s room number. Annie held her mother’s hand tightly as they took the elevator up a couple floors and a nurse led them down the bright hallways that seemed so endlessly long before they finally stopped in front of a door. The nurse knocked and opened the door.

“Mr. Abbott, you have some visitors here to see you.” she said with a smile and Annie was ushered into the room, the nurse shutting the door behind her when she left.

The first thing Annie noticed was how bright and clean everything was, a big window with the curtains thrown open taking up almost a whole wall. Then she saw the very high bed, big machines beeping beside it. There were so many tubes, cords, and wires everywhere that it took her a minute to realize that her father was lying in the bed with his head propped up on some pillows. His left side was way more bandaged than his right side and his left arm was in a cast but he smiled at her anyways.

“Hey Angel!” Rhett exclaimed. “Did you get all dressed up in your pretty dress just to come see me?”

Annie noticed the big bandages on his head and looked down at the floor, clinging to her mother’s leg shyly.

“Annie, go on baby, it’s okay.” Y/N prodded her gently trying to usher her towards her father but she just held on to her leg tighter with her eyes squeezed shut, little tears slipping out as she began to cry into her mother’s side.

Startled, Y/N looked to Rhett and Royal in confusion before kneeling down at her daughter’s level, pulling her into her arms.

“It’s okay, baby. Look, daddy’s alright!” she assured her, picking her up and carrying her towards Rhett’s bed, stroking her hair comfortingly. “I know it looks scary but he’s okay, sweetheart!”

Annie looked at her father again before bursting into tears and burying her head in her mother’s neck.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she cried out and the adults looked to one another in concern as she blubbered on. “I’m sorry I got you hurt daddy, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

“Angel, what do you mean? You didn’t hurt daddy.” Rhett assured her as Y/N sat in the chair by his bed so he could reach out to comfort his baby girl, Annie turning her head to look at him.

“It’s my fault! I didn’t give you your good luck kiss!” she sobbed and her parents sighed in realization. “I always give you your good luck kiss so you don’t get hurt but I forgot this time and you did get hurt!”

“Angelica, look at me.” Rhett told her, holding her hands as she turned in Y/N’s lap to face him directly, blue eyes staring into blue eyes. “This is not your fault. This didn’t happen because I didn’t get a good luck kiss, okay? So don’t think for one second that you caused this because you didn’t.”

“R- really?” she asked, voice catching on her tears and Rhett wiped them off of her cheeks, her mother rubbing her back comfortingly.

“Yes, Angel. I’m sure.” he told her with a smile. “Now, come give me a hug, I missed my baby girl so much.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, daddy.” she said quietly, looking at his bandages worriedly.

“You won’t baby. Just be gentle and stay on this side and I’ll be okay.” Rhett assured her, referring to his right side and she nodded.

Y/N helped her climb up onto the bed and gently lay down beside him, tucked into his side under his arm as he held his wife’s hand.

“See? I’m alright, Angel. I just got a little more banged up than usual by the mean old bull and I’ll have some new scars but I’m okay.” he told her. “And I’m never gonna ride another bull again, okay?”

“Really?” she asked, half in surprise and half in happiness.

“I pinky promise.” he said, letting go of his wife’s hand to link pinkies with his daughter as she smiled.

“Oh!” she said suddenly, dropping his pinky and digging in her pocket as her parents looked at her in confusion. “I got it!” she exclaimed as she fished out one of her flowery bandaids. She carefully peeled off the wrapper and stuck it on his hand, looking up at him proudly. “All better!”

“Yes, Angel, thank you.” Rhett said, pressing a kiss to her forehead and grabbing his wife’s hand, smiling at Royal as he nodded affectionately from his spot in the doorway. “I’m all better now.”

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott fic #outer range #outer range fic #whumptober #whumptober 2022

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