#if you’re struggling my DM’s are open
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A Guiding Hand 5
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Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, violence, abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won’t let you give up so easy.
Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background
Note: I'm a sleepy baby.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
Another unit done. You’re not certain how you’ve kept it up but you’re just waiting for your motivation to fizzle out. Each activity, each page, you teeter on the edge of oblivion. Workbook Five is almost complete and Six will be the final for the course. There’s a shell of disbelief around you. You really did it.
Well, not quite yet.
You sit back and stretch your neck and shoulders. Your teachers always told you to stop hunching but your shoulders always curled forward and your neck sunk anyway. Not out of defiance, just to make yourself small, maybe even, invisible.
You stand, fingers cold and slightly numb. It’s a rainy day and the cold seeps in as your mother keeps the radiator off. You tuck your hands into your hoodie sleeve and find your slippers, a faded old pair that used to be somewhat fluffy.
It’s quiet. You haven’t heard your mother at all. It’s not too unusual. After a binge, sometimes she just sleeps all day and night. You don’t like it, you don’t like that it’s normal, but it’s just how she is. How it is and always will be.
Well, you’re trying to change yourself. You can’t change her or this place.
You open the door slowly and peek out. A habit. You emerge quietly and rub your nose with your cuff, sniffing behind your sleeve as you shuffle into the kitchen. You do your best not to make too much noise as you fill the kettle. You have a few more bags of green tea, the you’re all out. You need to go back to the grocery store but the food credits won’t come until next week.
You turn the dial on the stove and lean against the front as the kettle sits on the back burner. You close your eyes, groggy and slightly dizzy. You’ve been staring at numbers for so long, you don’t even know what time it is. Morning at night, you can’t tell by a glance through the gray window.
You yawn again. Maybe chamomile might be a better choice. You lift your head and lean back on your heels as you mull the decision. The floor creaks with your weight as you shift indecisively. You’re not even sure you have any left.
As you back up, you collide with something, someone, else. You grunt as suddenly there’s a clamp around your neck and you’re shoved forward against the stove. You brace the edge, careful not to touch the top as the heat from the burner radiates across the metal.
Lee’s chuckle brushes over your hair, “there you are, girl. You been hiding.”
“Eek, no--” you squirm and writhe.
He’s too strong. He pushes harder and you’re forced to bend, precariously hovering over the stove, the kettle not far from your cheek. You squeak as your slippers scuff on the floor between his feet.
“Please--”
“You should be begging,” he snarls, “little girl like you, messing where she shouldn’t be.”
“I’m sorry,” you squeal, “you were hurting her--”
“Ain’t none of your business, is it?” He jolts you and you nearly hit your head off the back of the stove. He grabs your wrist with his other hand as he pinches your neck tighter. “Your mama likes it rough, don’t ya know? Walls ain’t that thick.”
You whine and struggle to resist him as he brings your hand up, angling it towards the kettle as you hear that water starting to hum. You can feel the heat roiling from it. You push back against him, pressing your hand to the back of the stove to get better leverage.
“Want me to hurt you? Is that it? Tired of just listening,” he snorts, your hand shaking close to the kettle as you babble, “suppose like this, won’t be too bad.”
He wiggles his pelvis against you and you hiccup in fear. You twitch and he shoves your hand against the kettle. You cry out as it scalds your skin, steam hissing through the spout and towards your face. Your eyes well and you gnash your teeth.
“Pl-please,” you plead and he lets go of your arm, framing your hip instead.
He pulls you back against him, “Mmm,” he shakes his hips again, “think I could. You ain’t bad from behind.”
Horror erupts up your throat as you scramble desperately, trapped by his weight. You grab onto the handle of the kettle, even as your burnt flesh screams, and you hurl yourself back. He staggers as you swing the heavy vessel in his direction but it only splashes on your slippers as he dodges away from you. A flare of anger lights up his blue eyes.
“Ha,” he sneers at you, “you’re funny, girl. Got a whole lotta fight for nothing. Far as I can tell, ain’t no other man around to want you. Not even your daddy.”
You lower the kettle, breathless and terrified. The sting of his word wounds more than the blistering flesh on your fingers. You shake your head.
“Leave me alone,” you croak.
“Hmph,” he curls his lips, “just you wait,” he eyes you up and down.
You stand, paralysed by the stove. He stomps away and you watch him go, not daring to move. When you hear your mother’s door slam, you shakily set the kettle on the countertop. You turn your hand over an examine your palm, the sight of it adding to the agony.
You don’t know how you can write now.
📓
You tap the mousepad twice to get it to react. Your poorly wrapped hand makes everything double the task. You huff as you switch hands, awkwardly navigating to the email icon. You expand the window and find a new email. Professor Smith.
‘Thank you for your last submission. I have reviewed your work and would like to provide feedback via Zoom if possible. Please provide times which work for you.
Looking forward to speaking again.
Take care,
Raymond’
As usual. He is very direct. You can almost appreciate that about him and yet it does not rein in your paranoia. Feedback via Zoom? Why? Can’t he just write it down? Did you do something wrong?
Ugh. You slump and stare at the keyboard. It can’t be avoided. You haven’t even started Six because of your hand. Maybe a review would be helpful. Besides, it would be a waste to give up now. It wasn’t so bad before, was it?
You hit reply and key in your response slowly with one hand.
‘Hello Professor,
I can do anytime tomorrow.
Thank you.’
It isn’t the most academic or professional response. You don’t know what else to say. You have no schedule to adhere too, you can only hope your mom isn’t making a racket.
You send and close up the laptop. You have to rewrap your hand. It’s really hurting but you’ve been rationing the Polysporin. You just want it to heal quick so you can finish your work.
📓
Professor Smith confirms for nine in the morning. You make sure you’re awake but your head is pulsing. Your sleep schedule is all off. You opt for a plain long-sleeved tee over the hoodie, trying to appear as presentable as you can. Nothing you own can compare to his tidy attire; you recall his sweater and stiff collar. Often, you find yourself wilting over how he must think of you. Just like everyone else does, you suppose.
You get set up. Your room isn’t too bad. You’ve been trying to keep up on it. Your laundry is in a basket although the bookshelf is getting a bit cluttered again. Oh well, he won’t be able to see much around you.
You open the laptop. Ten minutes to go. You can hardly sit still. Your anxiety peaks as you hear your mom’s voice from down the hall. It’s early for you, but even earlier for her.
There’s a knock at the door, “honey, do we got any coffee left?”
“Mom,” you get up and go to the door, cracking it open, “I left enough for a pot in the tin. I’m still waiting on the credits.”
“Oh,” she smiles through the narrow space, “Lee musta used them the last of it.” She smiles. She’s drunk. She hasn’t just woken up, she’s been awake all night. She turns and waddles away unsteadily, “baby, we got no coffee.”
You sigh and shut the door. You go back to the computer. Please don’t make a ruckus. You don’t need another scene.
You click the meeting link and fidget. You’re not ready. Are you ever? Life is just doing things you’re unprepared for.
You wince as Professor Smith appears on the screen. He greets you by name and you return a ‘hello, professor’.
“Good morning?” He asks brightly.
You shrug, “yeah, I guess...” you look one way then the other, uncertain, “how are you, professor?”
“Great, thanks for asking,” he reaches for a tall mug and takes a sip before exhaling, “so, I suppose you would just like to get this over with.”
“Um, no, er, I...”
“Not saying anything about you,” he assures as he leans forward, crossing his arms over the desk. His eyes scan through his lens and you realise he must be reading something on the screen, “you’ve done wonderful work. I especially wanted to high light a few things.”
“Oh, uh, yeah, I probably made some mistakes,” you clumsily click around as his image remains in the corner of the screen. You hiss as your fingers throb and open the workbook.
“On the contrary, it’s perfect. In fact, you’ve managed to bring my own error to light. I was certain at first it wasn’t me but I went in a redid the work for Problem Eight. Clever.”
You sit back and nod, surprised.
There’s a thump and your mom’s voice, met by Lee’s rumbling timbre. Muffled enough that their words can be deciphered but you worry it is still heard through the microphone. You clear your throat and move closer, sitting up as you bring your injured hand to rub your neck.
“A lot going on?” Smith wonders.
“No, sir, sorry, I wasn’t expecting it,” you shrug and scratch your cheek, the gauze rough and loose.
“Oh my, what’s happened there? Are you alright?”
You pause and jerk as another bang sounds and your mother’s cackle erupts, stopping sharply
“Yes, sir,” you quickly hide your hand, “I had an accident. Um, I was going to ask... it’s taking me a while to type...”
“By all means, we may discuss accommodations,” he assures, “I am, as ever, patient. Most importantly, you must take care of yourself.”
“Sir,” you nod and your door rattles in the frame. “Um...” you glance over your shoulder. Why now?
“Are you certain this isn’t a bad time?”
“I’m sorry,” you face the laptop, “I didn’t think--”
“Hey, you lazy bitch!” A hard rap shakes the door behind you, “get out here.”
You go wide-eyed and stare at the screen. No. Please. Not again.
Professor Smith’s brow ripples and his jaw squares, “it seems you’ve got some chaos over there.”
“It’s just... I... one sec,” you bring the call full screen and search for the controls and hit mute. You stand up and go to the door, trying to block it out with your body. You open it as Lee smirks back at you, “we’re all outta coffee. Why don’t you go and get us some?”
He holds up a ten dollar bill and flicks it against your nose, “y’ain’t got nothing else to do.”
“I’m busy,” you say, “can it wait a few minutes?”
“Busy?” He snips, “with what? You can watch your damn TV when you get back.”
“Sorry, but I can’t--”
“Lee, she’ll go in a bit,” your mother preens from down the hall.
“I got a damn headache, she can drag her ass out right now,” he barks back at her, “it’s my money, ain’t it?”
“Please, I’m... just after.”
“Why? Whatcha hiding?”
“Nothing, it’s school--”
He shoves the door and you stumble back, hitting the bookshelf with your shoulder. He bulls past you and looks around, his eyes narrowing on your laptop. You turn to see the professor watching intently from his side of the call and you scurry to catch up with Lee and stop him. He elbows you away, tossing you against your bedframe. You hit it and crash to the floor.
“I see, you entertainin’,” he scoffs and hits the keys several times.
“Who are you, sir?” Smith asks, his tone cool but dangerous.
You hear the little blip that signals the mute is off, “should ask ya the same. Whatcha doin’ talkin’ to young girls, eh?”
“Is she your daughter?” Smith challenges and gets a chortle in return.
“Nah, just a whore like her mother, ain’t she? You’d know better than me.”
You get to your knees and grab at his hand, “please, he’s my professor.”
“Don’t lie to me. Irene,” he spins as he hollers for your mother, “come see what your daughter’s doin’." He pauses to grit over his shoulder, "If ya gonna be whorin’ on the internet, you should at least try to get some money outta it.”
“Huh, Lee, leave her alone,” your mom appears in the doorway and you crawl past Lee, keeping low as you reach up to keyboard and feel around.
Professor Smith says your name but you hold the power button until the laptop fan slows and quiets. You sit back on your heels and look over as Lee peers around your room. Your mom sways in the doorway.
“Who was that?” She asks.
“I told him, it’s my professor--”
“You ain’t smart enough for all that book stuff,” Lee growls, “go on and keep lyin’.”
“Why do you care?” You sniff.
“Honey, don’t be rude.”
“Mom,” you whine, “he shouldn’t be in here.”
“Lee, baby, I’ll go get the coffee,” she redirects. You hang your head.
“I want her to go,” he turns and throws the ten at you, “the way she leach of ya, it’s the least she can do.”
You wince, “it’s okay, mom, I can go.” You grab the desk and stand, swiping up the bill. You need to get out of this apartment. Staying will only make him angrier. Staying will only make she shame worse.
#raymond smith#dark raymond smith#dark!raymond smith#raymond smith x reader#the gentlement#series#fic#a guiding hand#dark fic#dark!fic#au
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I think I’m healing.
Two specific moments.
I was teaching adult sex Ed at church yesterday. “Our whole lives.” Talking about consent and discussing what you want w your partner etc. the important shit.
One of my teaching partners whom I adore says he just finished reading the Handmaid’s Tale.
I responded surprisingly coherently. I lean over and say- I’ll share that I’ve written. ALOT of fan fiction for that story. Bc - the show fucked it up.
He’s like how? It’s a happy ending! Nick gets her out of the house!
I’m like yea. Yea. So imagine if seasons 2 and 3 are her back in the house? Being raped and tortured?
He’s like … what?
And it was so validating. Like yea. Someone bought rights to a SACRED romantic feminist warning tale. And MADE IT INTO MISOGYNY PORN. Bc rape wins EMMYS!
Someone brings up the testaments.
I’m like yup. Atwood saw where they were going. And wrote the ending. Which is love and hope. And she ensured nick couldn’t be killed.
The original author wrote more. To save her narrative.
That’s what fic is. The reclaiming of narratives. By the people most effected by the stories.
Then I quietly, casually mention. That if (if) he watches the show, which I don’t recommend beyond S1- IF he does. IF he gets to the S4 finale. To remind me to send him my 2 fics I wrote in 2018 that, combined, are the ending. Six feet deep and Ride or Die. I don’t know if the writers read fic. Or if we had parallel identical visions for what a happy ending looks like in Gilead- but either way- it makes me feel - like all the time I spent in that world meant something. Like it was valid and real and important. To me and others. Like I was on the right wavelength. My guess was close to the final answer.
Anyway be proud someone mentioned Nick Blaine in a social setting and I didn’t black out. I like- communicated all of that in 3 sentences. Yea. That’s one of my favorite stories. I’ve written a lot for them. Lmk if you get more into it. DONE! Like a normal person!!!
K so - then tonight my new friend (yes I have healed enough to make a new friend. I survived.) loves smut. Loves it. Seeks it out. Someone left a new comment on an old story tonight and it made my whole night. And my friend goes- send me a link! And I did! Bc I’m like- fully healed and ok with integrating the parts of myself? I don’t have to be high or drunk to be my sexual self. I’m not ashamed of that part of me? It’s not gross or bad. Like - this friend was AT THE ADULT SEX ED CLASS I TAUGHT! We are literally on the same page! She likes smut! I write smut! It’s ok!
Anyway. Big developments.
And, most ✨magickal ✨of all, I’m finally working on my original story.
2 chapters down.
It’s for all of you tumblr ppl. The way THT fic was for and about fandom ppl. HOS is about us. Filthy tumblr smut folk. Cannot wait to share it. Prob need about a year.
I’m glad I’m still alive.
I did not think healing was possible.
How fucking cool.
#if you’re struggling my DM’s are open#I love you#you matter#it will get better#recovery#nick Blaine
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I really don’t want to trauma dump or anything but I so deeply appreciate how open and real you’re being about health (both mental and physical). Having struggled with both for my whole life this community felt safe and you’re making it an even better place.
you have no idea how much i needed to hear this. i’ve grown up my entire life being punished for speaking against injustice and frankly i wasn’t expecting to receive such a shitty response to my genuine pain on here, to the point it had me questioning if i WAS being overdramatic or catastrophizing or a “puritan” but people like you have reminded me that i don’t really care if other people misinterpret what i’m saying and talk shit about me, as long as the people who are most vulnerable can hear me and know that they’re not alone.
it was hard to essentially be called crazy last night, especially as someone with an extensive mental health history, so this means so much more than you’ll ever know. truly. thank you
#you’re never alone with your health struggles physical or mental#and i’m always here to discuss anything if you’re feeling up to it#my dms are always open#my asks
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want to know where the hannibal fans are that have an ugly past, that can’t always relate to knowing they’re really a good person inside. want to know where the hannibal fans are that struggle with terribly intrusive thoughts, that have acted immorally and have been genuinely unsafe or unhealthy for others, even others who were innocent. want to know where the hannibal fans are that grew up deeply questioning everything about reality to a disturbing level, and how isolating that felt. fans that struggle with feeling very angry and hurt, or just feeling their feelings all the time. if not feeling, analyzing everything, all the time. the fans that can’t always relate to being the victim of the story, but the person who’s done harm too. want to know where the hannibal fans are at that have genuinely wondered if something is severely wrong with them, and not because of their admiration for the show, but because of the ways they’ve behaved, things they’ve thought or said, interests they’ve had, but also because you grew up feeling less included than you’d like, so you just feel more odd than most, maybe even doomed sometimes. this show is a helpful tool in observing myself more objectively, and i appreciate that because i’ve been able to learn when to step back and let go, on top of applying other coping mechanisms i have. i do feel isolated in this fandom sometimes because while i know i am not my past and my mistakes or my struggles, i see many people online that i feel might not have strayed too far the way that i have, and while i have a general grasp on reality and morals, and i’d never intentionally act out of line with those morals now in my life, i have in the past, and i’ve been wrong, unsafe, and cruel. i’ve been able to reflect on myself and grow, so there’s comfort in that, but there’s still also the worry of “what if i am alone in this?” knowing how unlikely that is, given how many people are in the world.
#i see a lot of people kin will because they are on the spectrum#but i kin will because i fear i may delight in wickedness#especially given my past#but i do know myself and my core being#i trust that in the end#i just don’t want to feel alone in this space#need to know where the hannibal fans are at that get so immersed in this show it becomes all you think and talk about and you pick up trait#or certain behaviors or mannerisms from characters#want to know where the hannibal fans are at that struggle with knowing if they’re a genuinely honest person or not#again despite knowing your truth in your heart#where are the fans that crave connection and community but also fear it because it feels foreign#and because you don’t have a grasp of who you are#so what if you’re just pretending the whole time with someone#and manipulating them#annoying part is that i don’t do this whatsoever in my daily life#in any interaction that i have#i’d like to work through this fear#where are the fans that fear not that they’re the victim but the harm#or could be the harm#if you see this i’d love to interact and know you and seek a familiar experience#dms are open if you’re not comfortable openly commenting on the post
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Heyyy saw ur request were open what about dark!rafe catches you talking shit about him to your friends over text???
How a Girlfriend is Supposed to Act
Warnings: noncon, forced sex, domestic violence, choking, slapping, oral (m!recieving), toxic relationship, gaslighting
Despite being with Rafe for almost a year, you had learned all of the quirks that he had when it came to his possessiveness very early on.
The first time you caught him reading your texts, you were surprised by just how nonchalant he was about the entire situation.
He was sitting on your bed after you returned from grabbing the two of you a snack, scrolling through your phone, not even bothering to look up at you until you asked him what he was doing.
“You’re my girlfriend, Y/N.” He said it slowly, like he was reminding you of something you yourself couldn’t possibly forgot. The accusing fire in his gaze made you squirm. “Of course I have the right to look through your phone.”
At first you were too surprised to react. You had never really had a reason to look through Rafe’s phone, but you imagined he wouldn’t be too happy if you did.
“Why the fuck do you look so nervous, huh?” He was starting to sound annoyed, and his eyes were flicking between meeting yours and scanning your phone. “Got something you’re trying to hide from me?”
“What? No, Rafe! I just didn’t expect to find you going through my phone, that’s all.” You explained breathlessly. You didn’t know why he was accusing you of trying to keep secrets from him.
Unfortunately, the last thing that you should have done in that moment was try to snatch your phone away from Rafe.
His hand shot out, tightly gripping your wrist as he dug his fingers into the bone beneath your skin. You cried out in pain and watched as your phone fell onto the bed, before bouncing to the floor.
Your boyfriend was furious now, easily pulling you onto the bed by your wrist and onto your back at a painful angle before straddling you. You struggled beneath him, trying hopelessly to stop him from putting his hands on you
When Rafe slapped you across the face the first time, your ears rang and you swore that your vision went white for a moment.
Every sound became muffled but you could hear Rafe angrily chastising you from above, “dumb bitch. I mean, I pay for your fucking phone, so yeah, you’re not gonna talk back to me when I go through it.”
That was months ago, and you later learned that that wasn’t even the first time that Rafe had gone through your phone.
You weren’t cheating on Rafe, that much was 100% true. The problem was that Rafe’s definition of cheating included behaviors that you knew were not cheating.
Texting your classmate a question about homework turned into a two hour long fight that culminated in Rafe giving you a black eye.
After Rafe saw you had and Topper had sent each other a couple funny posts in instagram dm’s, he choked you so hard you passed out, leaving you to cover up the extensive bruising on your neck around your friends and family to avoid explaining what had happened.
Ever since then you had learned to be careful about who you texted, and if you ever texted anyone Rafe wouldn’t approve or said something that he wouldn’t like, you made sure to delete the conversations.
You were always so diligent in covering your tracks.
Except for the one time you really needed to.
After another argument with Rafe had become physical, once you finally got some space away from him you had texted a friend, vaguely venting your frustrations with him, without revealing too many details to make her suspicious that Rafe was hurting you.
As you shakily typed out the texts you couldn’t help but think back on the fight you had had. After catching a guy staring at you in the club, the moment you returned home, Rafe had been quick to grab you by the throat, pushing you up against the wall before hurling insults at you.
“I mean you dress like such a fucking slut, no wonder I have to chase these guys off. I bet you wanted his attention, didn’t you?” His eyes narrowed as he looked down at you with disgust.
You were so shocked by his outburst you had barely registered the fingers crushed your throat, and you finally gasped for air against his strong hand. “N-no, Rafe!”
His grip tightened as he regarded your fearful eyes, “nah, you always think you can fool me sweetheart but you never can.” His chuckled, but there was no hint of humor in his eyes, “I saw you looking at him when we first walked in.”
You shook your head against him, tears gathering in your eyes as you begged with him, “I wasn’t baby-”
“Shut the fuck up, Y/N.” He spat at you, squeezing so hard you were sure you would have deep purple bruises on your neck tomorrow.
“I never should have let you outta the house wearing that dress. You were looking for trouble walking around like that.” Rafe growled, his eyes were ice cold. You knew that he was itching for a fight, and you didn’t want to give him what he wanted.
“I’m sorry,” you struggled to force the words out with such little breath and Rafe finally gave you a respite when he loosened his grip on your throat. “You okayed it before we went out, I thought it wouldn’t be a problem.”
“I knew every guy at that bar would be trying to fuck you with their eyes, but I didn’t think you’d be doing the same to them!” The more he spoke, the more pissed off he seemed to be making himself. You knew that he was just convincing himself that his actions were justified.
When he tossed you to the floor, you yelped in pain when your shoulder hit the hard wood. You barely had time to reach for your tender neck before Rafe grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced you to look up at him.
“I mean, do you even love me anymore, Y/N?” His voice sounded hurt, and even though this wasn’t the first time he had used this card on you in the middle of putting his hands on you, you couldn’t deny the tug on your heartstrings you had when you looked into your boyfriend’s eyes.
“Of course I do, Rafe!” You insisted, knowing that your enthusiasm was expected and there would be consequences if you didn’t play along.
You were terrified of your boyfriend, and after being with him for so long, you were aware of the ways to deescalate a tense situation. In moments like these you would have said anything to protect yourself.
“Nah, you don’t mean that. You haven’t been yourself lately baby. Always too busy with work to spend time with me and now you’re talking back to me?” He shook his head, tsk-ing as he glared at you disgustedly. “Not to mention, you haven’t been fulfilling all of your duties as my girlfriend.”
You stared at him, puzzled and not understanding his meaning, “what are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?” He repeated back to you in a mocking tone, like he couldn’t believe how dumb you were to not get it. “I mean, it’s been, what, five days since you last let me have sex with you? I have needs, Y/N. And when you can’t just lay on your back and spread your legs for me, you’re being a bad girlfriend.”
His words stung, and you couldn’t tell if the tears in your eyes were because of the large hand tangled into your hair, or because your boyfriend was acting like you owed him sex, like you were in the wrong right now.
“Now you’re gonna make it up to me, because you are really pissing me off right now, and I don’t want to hear any fucking complaints, do you understand?”
Your body was screaming in resistance, but you numbly realized that you were nodding your head. Rafe’s hand left your hair, finding your chin and gripping your jaw hard.
“Use your words, sweetheart,” the sick grin that was spread across his lips told you exactly how much Rafe was getting off on your humiliation right now and you wanted to be sick.
“I understand.” You forced the words past your gritted teeth, swallowing down the bile that threatened to come up.
Rafe unbuttoned his pants before sliding the zipper down and pushing them down his legs before pulling off his boxers as well.
His dick was hard, a bead of precum already pearled at the tip of his intimidating length.
You swallowed nervously, already afraid of how rough your boyfriend was going to be. You felt like you weren’t ready at all, but the sharp pain the bloomed on your cheek after Rafe slapped you told you that you must have hesitated for too long.
“Quit your damn procrastinating, Y/N,” he hissed, tangling his fingers into your hair again and pulling you to his dick, forcing the tip past your plump lips.
You didn’t have any time to be surprised, gagging and choking on him as he pushed himself deeper towards your throat. He groaned at the feeling of your throat squeezing his cock, urging himself further into the back of your mouth.
Rafe was in heaven, basking in the sight of your teary eyes and the ruined mascara that now trailed down your cheeks. You had looked so pretty at the club tonight, but now you were a crying mess. The noises of your gagging and the steady sound of Rafe’s cock hitting the back of your throat filled the space. Nothing had ever made Rafe hornier than seeing your beautiful, tear filled eyes begging and pleading with his.
He reached out to your cheek, wiping up a bit of saliva that had been forced past your lips. Your glassy eyes were unfocused now that you had given up any thoughts of resistance, too cock drunk to try protesting against the stronger man.
You were doing all you could not to gag on him and choke, knowing full well that that would only spur him on. Every time you pushed at his thigh to get him to ease up, he would slap your hand away with an annoyed grunt.
His pace was relentless now, one hand was gripping your hair and the other was at your throat, holding you still so he could push himself deeper.
“That’s right baby, fuck,” he bit back his groans, ignoring your gagging and desperate eyes when he forced himself too far down your throat, literally choking you with his cock. “Oh fuck- god Y/N, you’re better than any sex doll, you know why?”
He knew you couldn’t answer him, especially since he had started thrusting faster past your messy lips, but he still paused to drink in the sight before him.
“Because they can’t fight back,” Rafe sneered, picking up his pace again, reaching a punishing fervor.
The blond’s dick was slamming into the back of your throat while the large hand at your throat squeezed in warning anytime you so much tried to pull back.
He sped up on final time, chasing his high by forcing you to take all of his cock. Rafe held you in place and watched you choke on him for a couple seconds before letting out a low groan and spilling his salty seed down your throat, giving you no choice but to swallow every drop of it.
When he pulled his dick out of your mouth, you took a gasping breath, but weren’t allowed much air before Rafe slapped you across the face hard.
“From now on, I expect this and more from you every night we’re together. Because that’s how my girlfriend is supposed to act. And if you think about giving me any lip about that, then I’m gonna make you wish you had just kept your pretty mouth shut, got it?”
That rest of the night was no better than the beginning, after Rafe had helped you clean up, he basically immediately led you to your bed.
He chuckled in satisfaction when you didn’t fight back against his wandering hands, and as held tight to your wrists, plunging his cock into your slick cunt, he didn’t say anything about the tears rolling down your cheeks.
The next morning you had woken up sore, your entire body ached, and you weren’t surprised when you looked in the mirror and saw the red and purple blooming around your throat.
Rafe was still asleep, his deep snores letting you know that he wouldn’t be waking up soon.
You quietly snuck into the bathroom, grabbing your phone off of the bedside table on the way. Once you had shut and locked the door behind you, you exhaled deeply, unlocking your phone to check for messages.
Your friend had texted you asking how your night had gone, and feeling perhaps a little too honest, you told her that the two of you had had an “argument.”
‘he thought i was checking out a guy at the bar and said some really rude things to me last night.’ You laughed to yourself as you stared at your own words through blurry eyes. It was both funny and sad to you how used to covering for Rafe you now were.
The bathroom felt more cramped when you remembered that Rafe was just on the other side of the door, despite being asleep.
A new notification popped up soundlessly and you read your friend’s text. She was joking about gathering all of your mutual friends to gang up on Rafe.
If only she knew the extent of what Rafe had done to you. You were sure she wouldn’t be joking then. In spite of that, you were angry with Rafe and wanted to blow off a little steam with your friend.
Which is why you felt emboldened to continue texting her.
‘he’s such an asshole sometimes. i’ve been thinking about breaking it off with him soon.’
You huffed, putting your phone down before finishing up in the bathroom and opening the door.
To your surprise, Rafe was standing on the other side, waiting for you to get out before he brushed past you without a word.
You noticed he was taking longer than he usually did to just pee, and when he finally stepped out of the bathroom, you realized with a horrible chill why he had been in there for so long.
Clutched in his hand was your cellphone, and you could see that it was open to the messages you had just sent.
“‘He’s such an asshole, I’ve been thinking about breaking it off??’” His voice was cold and you cringed hearing him speak your words. There was no denying he had read your texts.
You shivered, frozen in place as he stared you down, his blue eyes boring so deep into you that you swore you could feel them burning straight through you.
Your mouth was so dry, you had never felt so afraid of your boyfriend before. Even after everything he had put you through, you had never said anything about breaking up with him to his face. “Rafe, I-”
If your instincts hadn’t kicked in, you would have taken the blow right to your nose, however you had been lucky enough to dodge the phone fast enough that it only nicked your forehead before smashing into pieces against the wall behind you.
Unfortunately, while you had been focused on dodging your phone, the taller man had closed the gap between you, easily pushing you up against the wall by your throat and choking you with both hands. Rafe’s fingers pressed down against the bruises that they had left there the previous night.
You wanted to scream, but Rafe had knocked the wind out of you and no matter how hard you shoved him, he wasn’t giving up.
“You’re mine,” he hissed as you struggled against him. “Maybe I’ve been hitting you too much recently, because I don’t remember you being this stupid when we first started dating.”
Before you could comprehend what was happening, Rafe had spun you around and pushed you face first into the bed. One of his hands was forcing your head against the mattress, while the other pawed at your silk pajama shorts, opting to rip away the fabric covering you before freeing his hard cock from his boxers.
“You think I’m an asshole?” He growled, the tip of his cock brushed against your slick cunt and you shuddered at the feel of him beginning to force himself inside of you.
“I’ll show you how much of an asshole I can be.”
#rafe cameron#dark!rafe cameron#outer banks#obx#rafe cameron noncon#dark rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron fanfic#how a girlfriend is supposed to act#rafe cameron x reader
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A commission piece featuring Astarion and Dark Urge Tav!
As much as I struggle with dark night moods, I loved painting this piece so much! 🥰🥰 Many thanks to my client who requested this lovely piece, they were such a nice person and was so happy with the result!
I’m currently opening Baldur’s Gate 3 commissions, feel free to DM me if you’re interested!
ÉDIT : Commission slots are all taken! Sorry for the inconvenience 😭 but I hope to reopen a new round in July. I’ll be posting the pricing info soon. Thank you so much again for reaching out to me and for your interest in my work friends! 💖
#baldur’s gate 3#bg3 astarion#bg3 fanart#astarion fanart#astarion#bg3#tav#astarion x tav#dark urge#vampire#elf#dnd#dungeons and dragons#larian studios#illustration#procreate#digital art#digital artist#my art#art style#commission#art commisions#commissions open
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things you didn't say | jjk
summary: with the recent interactions with jungkook, you try to downplay your feelings, but your friends encourage you to acknowledge your past and move forward.
✨ title: things you didn't say | tydk couple
✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader
✨ genre/au: angst | ex-best friends to friends/lovers(?)
✨ rating: R/18+ | ✨ word count: 7.3k | ✨ playlist
✨ warnings: minor language, lana threatens oc with a fork, drinking, game of truth or dare, confessions, kissing
✨ a/n: hii--i'm sorry i've been a bit MIA in regards to writing. it's been such a struggle to get anything written. i've been thinking a lot about these two and i hope this last part gives us all some kind of resolution. enjoy. (and there's a small nod to something that'll happen in a different jk wip i'm working on hehe). and if you haven't read part one or two, please do so before reading this part.
✨ read part one | read part two ✨
The clock is nearly midnight, and you’re not ready for the magic to disappear.
All night, you’ve kept your heart at bay, questioning every move and word being spoken. Only you can see it, but a dark cloud is looming over you. Doubts linger like a predator waiting to pounce and take its prey. You want to avoid getting it wrong or being let down.
And your heart is the ultimate betrayer, but it doesn’t lie.
You’re caught up in sentimental memories from the past. His nose scrunches and boisterous cackles are reminiscent of the boy you remember. Hanging out and reliving past adventures felt like no time had passed, yet life updates from then to now made him feel like a stranger.
Giggles and claps, along with snorts and dribbles of wine, glide down the side of your mouth. The third wine bottle is on its way to being destroyed by the pair of you.
He’s careful to avoid the subject of Josie, for which you are grateful. If you could be honest, you would ask him why he was still with her and what he saw in her. But it’s not your place, nor are you in the position to pry.
Your eyes fall on the plants sitting on the corner shelf in the dining area—an array of pothos, snake, and rubber plants. They’re your typical plants, but it’s the planters that they’re sitting in that make you smile. The planters have stubby arms and legs with smiley faces.
Jungkook follows your gaze. “What are we looking at?”
You point to the planters. “Those little guys. They’re cute.”
“Thanks,” Jungkook says. “I made them.”
“The planters or the plants?”
He swirls his wine glass, letting out a small laugh. “The planters.”
“You made those planters?” You stand, walking over to them.
“When I get bored, I try new creative outlets and ceramics was one of them,” he says, taking a sip of wine.
“Wow, you have a knack for things like that, huh?” You pick up a planter, inspecting it before setting it down. “You could open up your own Etsy shop or something. People would buy these in a heartbeat.”
“Eh, I suppose. I just like doing things with my hands. It makes me feel useful.” Jungkook shrugs. He watches your every move as you continue eyeing the different ceramic pieces he’s made: vases, candleholders, etc. “Do you think people would buy the things I make?”
You lift a coiled vase, turning to him. “Are you kidding me? People would eat this shit up. Once your pieces sell like hotcakes on Etsy, Urban Outfitters will slide in your DMs.” You’re not surprised Jungkook easily excelled at something like ceramics. He’s always been talented at anything he picks up.
“And you were good at anything creative when we were in school—art class, wood shop. I would’ve failed wood shop if you didn’t help me finish my project.”
“Yeah, your birdhouse was fucking terrible.”
You scoff, walking toward him, playfully shoving his shoulder. “It wasn’t that bad.”
He deadpans. “Even birds would avoid your birdhouse.”
“Shut up! I tried my hardest.”
“Didn’t try hard enough,” he teases, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a grin on his face.
The pair of you continue to bicker about nothing, but the constant buzzes of notifications from his phone are hard to ignore. You’d catch Jungkook peering, tapping his fingers, debating if he should reply.
You sip from the bottle of dessert wine, you find it sweet and refreshing on your lips. “If you need to get that, then don’t let me stop you.”
Jungkook lifts his phone. “Nah—it’s nothing,” he protests before his phone vibrates in his hand. He glances at the illuminated screen and he finally picks it up. “Sorry, let me answer this. I’ll be right back.”
He hurries out of the kitchen and into the darkened living room. You can only hear Jungkook’s stern, hushed voice, but you can’t make anything out. His change in demeanor hints at one person, and it’s Josie. Which meant it was your cue to leave. You’ve overstayed your welcome.
You raise your wine glass, gulping the golden honey peach Moscato. Thank goodness they’re easy to guzzle. A drop runs down the side of your mouth, and you swipe it away as Jungkook walks back in.
“I’m so sorry about that.”
“Hmm? Oh—don’t worry about it. I, um, I’ve probably overstayed my welcome, so I should get going.”
“What? No, stay. We have to finish our Moscato.”
A nervous chuckle leaves your lips as you contemplate his proposition. There’s a tug in your heart, wanting to stay into the early hours of the morning, but there’s your brain telling you to take it slow and go home.
“I wish I could stay, but I should head home. I have a load of laundry to fold and sadly, it won’t fold itself.” You stand up from the bar chair, feeling a bit wobbly on your feet. Jungkook rushes to your side, gripping your waist, but you catch yourself by holding onto the counter.
“You can’t hold your liquor?” He asks with a wide grin, pulling you upright.
Clearing your throat and flattening down your jeans, you spit out, “Ha-ha. I can hold my liquor just fine. I merely tripped.”
Jungkook chuckles. “You’re a terrible liar—see, I still remember that.”
You gasp sharply, with a hand over your chest. “I’m surprised that big ‘ol head of yours can remember anything. I thought it was only filled with games and girls.” Sticking out your tongue, you conk him on the head with your knuckles.
“Ow.” He rubs the spot as if you had knocked him with a bat.
Taking out your phone from your pocket, you pull up Uber.
“Let me take you home, at least.”
You give him a look, slowly blinking your eyes at the devilishly handsome friend. Could you even call him a friend again? Maybe it was too early for that.
“Did you forget that we both had too much to drink tonight? So, you shouldn’t be driving me. It’s fine, Kook. I’ll get an Uber.”
Jungkook sighs, knowing he can’t convince you otherwise. “Fine. I’ll wait with you outside until it gets here.”
“Well, it’s not like I can stop you.”
The pair of you are sitting on his front steps, watching cars drive by and cats strolling through the neighborhood. His place is in a newer part of town, one that was built while you were away. It’s familiar and odd, just like you and Jungkook. As much as you want to forget the past and move on, there’s a part of you holding onto what the two of you had. Would you ever become best friends again? Would you even consider letting him be a part of your life? Those were questions for another time, but it felt like you had your best friend back, even if it was just for tonight.
As the alcohol in your system dwindles, the brain fog becomes clearer, along with your hearing. A nudge from Jungkook makes you come back to reality. “Hmm?”
“I asked, ‘Do you still go stargazing’?” He chuckles, shaking his head.
“Yeah, I do, but the spot I went to during college isn’t as good as the one we used to go to.”
Jungkook hums, avoiding your gaze as he picks up a small pebble from the ground. “We should go there sometime,” he mumbles under his breath. He continues toying with the pebble before throwing it into the bushes.
You’re trying to suppress a smile and swat away the butterflies growing in your stomach. It’s dumb to think things could go back to the way they were. It’s unrealistic and you don’t want to get hurt again.
Turning toward him, you want to set the record straight. “Let’s um, take this whole friendship thing slow, Kook. Dinner was great. It was nice talking to you again, but you do understand where I’m coming from, right?”
He nibbles on his bottom lip and nods. “I’ll follow your lead.”
You check your phone again. The Uber is two minutes away. As you click it off, you turn and see Jungkook staring. Something is brewing behind those starry eyes. With a raised brow, you ask, “What?”
“Can I call or text you sometime?”
“Just don’t, uh, go texting me all day and night. Your girlfriend might get jealous. Might even put a bounty on my head,” you tease, reaching to pull his black CK cap over his face.
He takes his cap off, carding his hand through his hair before placing it back on his head. As you’re immersed in your phone and looking up at the street for your Uber, Jungkook silently observes you like has for the past few years. Some might say it’s a red flag, but how else was he supposed to know if you were happy? That’s all he’s ever wanted—for you to be happy, loved, and have all your dreams come true, even though he wasn’t there to cheer you on. For seven years, he has been tormented by what he did, and he didn't want to jeopardize any possibility of any kind of relationship with you. It doesn’t even have to be like before, just as long as the two of you are on speaking terms. He could live with that.
A dark sedan pulls up alongside the pair of you. You grab the door handle, pause for a moment, then turn back to Jungkook. “We’ll talk soon?” He raises both eyebrows and hums softly, giving a thin smile. “Bye, Kook.”
Two weeks passed, and there was no text or call from Jungkook. Plenty of thoughts ran through your mind, the number one being Josie had found out about your little dinner and locked him in a basement, cutting off all contact with the outside world—especially if it was with you.
But you’re a big girl. Why should you be waiting around to hear from him, anyway?
If there’s one thing you hate about adulting, it’s cooking. You missed the days when you were in your angsty teen phase, headphones in, and hating the world, then your parents would yell ‘Dinner’s ready’. And as much as you missed home-cooked meals, you loved that your parents were off gallivanting around the world, living their retirement dreams. One day that’ll be you, living off your retirement and eating out 24/7, but for now, there’s a decision to be made about what will go in your salad for the week.
Cucumbers.
Strolling in the veggie section, your eyes scan for the green vegetables before landing on them. You stood debating on which one to get. Why are there so many varieties? But according to Google, Persian cucumbers go great in salads.
As you grabbed a second cucumber, you looked up to see the man who betrayed your trust. And no—it wasn’t Jungkook. It was his roommate, Jimin, aka ‘the trickster’.
With a stomp in your step and a cucumber in your hand, you march over to him, striking him on the shoulder with it.
“Ow!” Jimin exclaims, rubbing his shoulder as he turns around. His brows furrowed, lips in a full pout when he finds you standing behind him. “What the hell?” He looks to see the weapon in your hand. “Did you just hit me with a cucumber?” You hum. “Why’d you do that?”
Tossing the cucumber in your basket and crossing your arms, you huff out, “Because you deserved it!”
“Deserve what?”
You roll your eyes at the not-so-innocent man. Was he trying to play Cupid or something with you and Jungkook?…Because his stupid plan kind of worked. You truly had a great time at dinner, and it was nostalgic, just like how things used to be.
“Mmhm. Count your days, Park,” you quip, turning around to head in the other direction. Jimin’s calling after you to wait for him, but you keep on walking.
As he catches up, standing beside you, he nudges your arm. “Oh, come on. I was just trying to help a friend out,” he finally admits.
“Well, don’t.”
Jimin strides in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey—” You attempt to go around him, but he’s unrelenting. “Just hear me out, okay?” You sigh, waving for him to continue. “I’m sorry I ambushed you, but it was the only way you’d hang out with Jungkook. I know the two of you had shit go down in the past, and I just wanted to help you both move on to being friends again.”
“Why does it matter to you?”
“Because,” he pauses and straightens his back with his chin up. “I like you and I like Jungkook, and who wouldn’t want to see their friends be happy, hmm?”
Jungkook’s laughter echoed in your mind. You knew it was dumb to miss something as simple as a laugh, but you had heard it for so many years, and then it stopped for a long time. It felt nice to have a piece of an old friend back.
Jimin gives you a look and a grin sweeps across his face. There’s a satisfaction behind that grin and you wish you could wipe off.
“You’re lucky you’re cute, Park Jimin,” you say, stepping off to the side as a customer rolls by with their cart through the two of you.
He laughs, showing off his pearly whites. “I should check out and head off—don’t want you to start getting any ideas and start a food fight here in the grocery store.”
“Yeah, you should run.” You pretend to grab the cucumber and watch him run off to self-checkout.
A buzz from your back pocket alerts you of a notification and, to your surprise, it’s a text from Jungkook. It looks like he hadn’t forgotten about you.
Jungkook 1:34 PM
Hey. I’m throwing a small dinner for Jimin’s birthday on Friday at 7 pm. Say you’ll come.
You 1:35 PM
Define small.
Incoming Call
Jungkook
“If I come and it’s a big party like last time, then count me out.”
“Hello to you, too.”
“Right—hey. No, but seriously. I’m not a big crowd kinda gal.”
“Including me and you, there would only be six people. That’s not a lot, right?”
It’s not, but you’ll have to save your social battery for the dinner party.
“No, yeah, that’s fine.”
“And don’t worry, you know everyone—Lana’s going too.”
The big question is: will Josie be there?
A beat passes and you realize you’re standing in the middle of an aisle, probably blocking someone’s way.
Jungkook’s voice comes through your phone, calling your name a few times. “Hello? Hey. Are you still there?”
You turn to make sure no one’s around. “Yeah, sorry. I’m still here. Is, um, ‘who-shall-not-be-named’ coming?” You ask, nibbling on the inside of your cheek. It’s a name for fuck’s sake, but you can’t bring yourself to say it.
He chuckles at your subtle attempt to avoid the Josie topic. “I can promise you that she’s not coming. Is that why you’re hesitant to say yes?”
“Pfft–what! No!” you blurt out, lying through your teeth. Truth be told—yeah, it is. You don’t want a repeat of Jimin’s party.
You clear your throat, “Anyway, yeah, I’ll come. Count me in.”
“Cool! See you on Friday.”
“Can I bring anything?”
“Nope–just yourself. Oh, and it’s a surprise, so don’t say anything to Jimin.”
“‘Kay…sounds good. I’ll see you Friday.”
“Can’t wait to see you,” he said with enthusiasm before hanging up.
As you’re mixing the salad, you’re staring absent-mindedly at the abstract painting that’s framed on your wall because those five words rang in your ears on the drive home.
You mumbled those words in different tones, trying to make sense of the innocent expression. It’s completely normal for Jungkook to be excited. He hasn’t seen/hung out/talked to you in almost seven years. Yeah, that’s it—at least it’s what you’re telling yourself.
Lana waves her hand in your face. “Um, hello! I don’t think you can mix the salad anymore!”
Looking down, a few springs of leaves have been tossed out of the bowl and onto the counter. Oops. You pick them up, throwing them in the garbage bin. “Sorry—I was distracted.”
“Clearly.”
As you push the bowl aside, your focus is on the unopened bottle of wine.
“Are you going to tell me what’s distracting you, or should I wait until the wine settles in?”
“You can wait until the wine settles in. It’ll give me time to forget about it.”
Lana picks up a fork, threatening you with it. “I swear to god if you don’t tell me—”
“Okay, okay. The other day, Jungkook called to invite me to Jimin’s dinner party.” Lana narrows her eyes and hums, intently listening. “At the end of our conversation, he said, ‘Can’t wait to see you’, and he seemed excited.”
She nods her head, waiting for the rest of the story, but you don’t say anything else. “That’s it? God–that’s so boring. I thought you guys kissed or something.”
“Lana!” you cry out, almost knocking over the wine bottle.
“What? I thought he would’ve made his move by now.”
You roll your eyes. “There’s no move to make. He’s with Josie, remember?”
“Josie Schmosie—she’s old news, but you,” she points and grins, “You’re back and here to fuck things up,” she claps with a gleeful smile.
“Oh, will you stop it? I’m not back to do anything—and what the hell, Lana? You’re not helping!”
Lana chortles, covering her mouth. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m sure what Jungkook said to you is just a simple expression of how much he can’t wait to see you and get you underneath his sheets.”
You sigh, shaking your head. “I don’t even know why I bothered you with this.”
“Okay, I’ll stop. I promise—just kidding. Can I ask one more thing?” You wave your hand for her to continue. “You’re telling me you don’t even want to revel in the idea of the two of you being something more than just friends?”
The iciness of the tiled counter becomes apparent underneath your fingers, and you’re faced with a question you never wanted to answer—aloud, at least. Considering that he’s tried breaking up with Josie multiple times, but somehow is still with her, you’re unsure what will push Jungkook to cut off the head of the snake.
You hate that Jeon Jungkook has been—scratch that—is your Roman empire. He’s the one thing you’ve come back to even when you didn’t want to. It’s the same three questions you’ve had: Is he okay, is he happy, does he miss you too?
And if you’re completely honest, the answer is yes. Of course, you’ve reveled in the idea of you and him.
“I don’t know, Lana. I mean yes—the thought has crossed my mind. I’ve liked him since senior year, but it takes two to tango, and Jungkook can’t do that right now. Besides, I won’t wait around for him to come to his senses.”
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me, that’s the expression, isn’t it?
You can’t imagine going through another heartbreak from the same boy.
Things happen in life that don’t make sense.
Especially for the price of a pair of earrings, you’re currently looking to purchase as Jimin’s birthday present. The sales associate senses your hesitation and brings out a similar pair that’s on sale.
“Ah—that’s more like it. I’ll take those and do you still provide gift wrapping?” you ask, looking at the sign you saw on the way in.
“Yes, we do. Let me go into the back and wrap it up for you.”
The associate disappears through the back door, probably to talk shit about you to their co-workers, but hey–a girl has to save money where she can. It’s a fragile economy.
You roam, looking through the display cases of bracelets, rings, and watches. A gold Casio watch catches your eye–it looks like one Jungkook used to wear. He treasured the vintage-looking watch because it was his father’s. Come to think of it, you haven’t seen him with it when you saw him. Maybe he lost it or replaced it with something else.
Either way, you continue eyeing pieces of jewelry you’ll never purchase for yourself, and it’s when you look up to catch a glimpse of a girl you recognize. But it’s the man marking her neck that isn’t your ex-best friend. You’ve locked eyes with which she-who-must-not-be-named, and maybe it’s not too late to pretend you didn’t see her.
The sales associate returns the wrapped gift along with your credit card. You quickly thank her, looping your arm through the gift bag. Your eyes scan everything in view to see if the coast is clear. There’s no sign of your enemy, so you dart out of the store only to find Josie and this mystery man looking at the window display at the neighboring boutique.
Fuck, just go on your way and don’t engage. Don’t engage! You say to yourself, swiftly walking past them.
You’re busy berating yourself to hear someone calling your name. Stopping in your tracks, you sigh, waiting for Josie to catch up.
“Hey!” Josie chirps like the two of you are friendly.
“Hi…” you say glumly, with furrowed eyebrows. She’s never been nice to you before, so why should you start now?
“Can you not tell Jungkook what you saw?”
You tut, blinking your eyes at her like you owe her a favor. “Look Josie—what you do doesn’t concern me, okay?” you say, walking past her. It’s been a few weeks since you last saw her and she’s cheating on Jungkook with some guy? God, if only you could smack him upside the head right now—Josie too!
You’re a few steps ahead before you stop in your tracks and turn, walking back to her. You huff, “Tell me one thing. If you’re off with some guy behind Jungkook’s back. Why are you still stringing him along, then?”
Josie looks at you, ready to answer, but you raise your hand, stopping her. “Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.”
As you walk off again, there’s a revolting feeling in the pit of your stomach having to keep this to yourself. Jungkook deserves to know the kind of person Josie is, but it’s not your place to say anything. You’re not his best friend anymore. Honestly, you’re unsure what the two of you are and sometimes, there are some things you just shouldn’t say.
Whenever you think about seeing Josie and that mystery man, it makes you want to gag, and throw something at the wall, but mainly at her. Who knows how long she’s been cheating on Jungkook? You tossed and turned in bed, debating whether you should say something to him.
The dinner party is tonight, and if you happen to be alone with him and the Josie topic comes about, then you’ll mention it.
Another thought crosses your mind, what if he thinks you’re making this up because you’re jealous of Josie? Ah, fuck. Either way, you’ll turn out to be the bad guy, right? You’ll either break his heart or you’ll sound like a jealous person.
You don’t want to ruin whatever the two of you have, because you’ve missed the comfort of an old friend and you don’t want to lose it again.
Even though you know the code, you don’t press the four digits. Instead, you knock, waiting for someone to open the door.
“Hey!” Jungkook says, eyes dropping to your hands. “I said you didn’t have to bring anything.” He takes a step back, letting you through, and grabbing the box of Soju.
“I know, but Lana always says, ‘Don’t go anywhere empty-handed’,” you say, flashing a small smile.
“Ah, well, the Soju will go great with tonight’s menu.”
The aroma from Jungkook’s cooking is immaculate. You can almost taste the different dishes he’s prepared.
“Oh my god, it smells so good–like how your mom used to make food for us all the time.” You walk over to the dinner table, displayed with grilled meat, japchae, tteokbokki, buddaejjigae, and a plethora of banchan. “How is your mom? I miss her and her cooking.”
Jungkook chuckles softly. “She’s doing great. Her cooking, though? Not so much. It’s become too salty for my taste—Don’t tell her I told you that.”
You rub your hands together. “Oh, you bet that’s the first thing I’ll say after giving her a hug.”
“Don’t! She’ll disown me. She already hates that I’m a better cook than her,” Jungkook says, opening the box of Soju.
“You should become a private chef or something.”
He opens the refrigerator door, placing the Soju to chill. “Nah—I’ll just cook at home. I’m still learning, testing the waters, y’know?”
“I hate you.”
His eyes perk up with concern. “What did I do this time?”
“You’re good at everything you do—it’s unfair to the rest of us peasants.”
Jungkook relaxes at your answer, thinking he did something wrong again.
Placing the last Soju bottle in the fridge, he turns back, scanning you from head to toe. You’re dressed in an oversized Linkin Park band tee and jeans. He recognizes the shirt, the one you wore religiously during your emo teenage years.
“What? Is there something on my face?” you ask, touching your cheeks.
He shakes his head no and clears his throat. “I, um, wanted to talk to you...about something.”
“Oh?” Your eyes and ears perk up, but you’re interrupted by a commotion coming from the front door.
“The birthday boy is coming! Hide!” Lana says in a hushed tone. She rushes over to you, crouching down behind the counter, pulling you down with her. You chuckle, shaking your head.
With the front door open, Jungkook’s other roommate, Namjoon, walks in first–hand in hand with his girlfriend, and then following is the birthday boy.
Lana peers above the chairs to see if they’ve come in. “Surprise!” She cries out. Everyone’s ears must be ringing at this point.
Jimin gives a half-smile along with a chuckle. “Lana, you ran past us in the driveway.”
Her mouth turns into a cheesy smile. “You caught me. Sorry, I kind of ruined the surprise.”
“Happy birthday Jimin,” you say, walking over to him, arms out for a hug.
“I’m glad to see you and Kook have made up,” Jimin utters. “He needs someone like you around.” He pulls back, squeezing your arms before letting you go.
Namjoon and his girlfriend, Nora, greet you and Jungkook and then take a seat at the dinner table.
You look at Jungkook. “We’ll talk later?”
He hums in agreement. “Yeah, later.”
You’ve missed this—hanging out with old friends. It’s fun to be around people who you’ve known for a long time. You remember Namjoon being a senior when you were a freshman and the stories you’d hear about him—prom king, valedictorian; he did it all when he was in school. And Nora was the perfect woman for him. They’re both working toward their doctorate in philosophy. Their IQs were the equivalent of yours, Lana, Jimin, and Jungkook’s combined.
“Wow, I feel unqualified to be sitting at this table,” you say jokingly. Being an HR specialist was never the plan, but you’ve come to enjoy your job because you like to think you’re a good judge of character when it comes to hiring.
“Let’s stop talking about work, and have some fun! After all, it is Jimin’s birthday. How about a game of Truth or Dare?” Nora asks, looking around the dining table to get some confirmation. “I need verbal consent, please.”
Everyone glances at each other, awaiting answers. There are various responses, and everyone agrees to play.
Nora claps with a joyful squeal. “Okay, Jimin gets to ask first since it’s his birthday. Choose your victim, and anything’s fair game!”
There’s a groan from you and Jungkook. You have a feeling this night will become interesting.
Jimin rubs his hands together and then points to each person. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…” He continues the rhyme, and you know he’s itching to choose you or Jungkook, and his finger lands on Jungkook.
“Oh-ho-ho. Please pick dare, or I’ll make you answer something you don’t want to,” he says, playfully sticking out his tongue.
Jungkook narrows his eyes at his devilish roommate. “Don’t test me, Park. I can make your life a living hell, too.”
“Ah yes, I’d like to see you try.”
Your heart’s racing, and your hands are sweaty while gripping the chair’s armrest. Jimin has always been sneaky, and you’re sure he’ll make Jungkook kiss you.
Everyone’s waiting for Jungkook’s answer. He groans before replying, “Fine. Dare.”
Both Lana and Nora let out muffled squeals while you’re holding your breath.
“I dare you…to say something dirty to ____.” Jimin grins from ear to ear, staring at you.
You knew Jimin would be unrelenting when it came to you and Jungkook.
Turning to Jungkook, you say, “If you’re uncomfortable, don’t do it. It’s just a dumb game.”
“Hey! Nora said anything’s fair game and my dare is completely harmless. I could’ve asked you to do something else, but I didn’t,” Jimin refutes.
“It’s fine,” Jungkook says with a scowl. Turning to you, he leans over. His breath is warm against your ear, goosebumps are trickling on your skin, and your hair is standing on its end. He whispers, “You look so pretty—wish I could do this forever.”
“Hey, hey, hey! You’re supposed to say it aloud for everyone to hear,” Jimin protests.
You visibly gulp, returning to a straightened position in your chair. The ten words he said shouldn’t affect you, but it does. The room has grown warmer and you’re practically melting like butter in a hot pan. It’s just a silly game and you’re so over Jimin and his antics.
“Your dare was ‘to say something dirty to ___’. You didn’t specify if it was a whisper or if I had to shout it from the rooftop,” Jungkook chirps, quickly glancing in your direction to make sure you’re okay.
Jimin glares at Jungkook with a blaze of a thousand suns. “It’s implied that you say it out loud so everyone can hear.”
Lana elbows Jungkook. “What did you say? How dirty was it? Like, give us a rating, PG-13, R, NC-17?” He doesn’t answer her, but she looks at you, pointing her fingers to her eyes and then back to you, indicating that you’ll tell her later.
“I’ll let it go this time, but from now on, no whispering, and everyone has to hear what everyone says,” Jimin demands, awaiting confirmation from the group. “Okay, Jungkook, it’s your turn.”
He turns to Lana and bluntly asks, “Would you ever sleep with Jimin?” Jungkook peers at Jimin because he knows that Jimin’s had a crush on Lana since high school.
Lana’s mouth twists before answering, “Yeah, I guess.”
Jimin scoffs, offended by her response. “You guess? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know if you’re any good in bed!”
“And I don’t know if you’re any good in bed!” he chirps back.
“Please—I’ll be the best sex you’ll ever have,” she jeers, crossing her arms.
Jimin stands. “Oh yeah? Prove it.” He retorts, raising his chin in defense.
Everyone ‘oohs’, staring at the two like they’re in a stand-off.
“Prove it! Prove it!” Nora urges, pounding her fists on the table.
Namjoon fakes a laugh, muffling his girlfriend’s pounding. “I’m sorry. She’s had too much to drink. Don’t listen to her.”
Jimin leans forward, hands on the table. “Yeah…prove it.” He raises an eyebrow, wondering if Lana will back down or take on the challenge.
“Right now?” She tilts her head, scanning him from head to toe.
He shrugs. “Mm, what a shame. I guess you’ll never be able to prove it,” he says with a tut.
The chair legs squeak when Lana pushes herself to stand. “When’s the last time you got tested?”
“A month ago,” Jimin quickly replies like no one else is in the room. “I’m clean. You?”
“I’m clean too. You got condoms?”
You sink in your chair, wiping your face, watching these two go off on each other. Honestly, you can’t believe you’re witnessing this.
“Got a whole box ready for you.”
Lana marches over to Jimin, grabbing his hand. “Well, come on birthday boy.”
Your mouth drops, watching the two-run upstairs. “They’re not gonna fuck, are they?” Lana has been in a dry spell for the last year, so you don’t blame her for wanting to get laid.
“Yeah, I think they are,” Jungkook answers. “Yah—” he turns to yell toward Jimin’s room. “Keep it down, will ya?”
The rest of you continue the game, but they’re just questions to get to know each other.
“Jungkook, if there’s one thing you could take back. What would it be?”
He looks in your direction, then plays with his Soju glass, spinning it a few times. You’re biting the inside of your cheek, eyes bouncing from him and then to Nora and Namjoon.
“Um, I’d go back to the day I broke ___’s heart—take everything back.”
The couple looks at each other, forcing a fake laugh. “Well, I can sense the tension between our friends here,” Nora says. “Joonie, baby, didn’t you wanna show me that thing in your room?”
Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow. “What thing?”
Nora stands, tugging his hand, and drags him down the hallway to his room. You can hear the two bickering before the door closes.
You’re silent. Unsure of what to say. You want to move forward, but the past keeps haunting you. Will it always be like this with you and Jungkook? And certainly, there are things you didn’t say that you should say now, but what’s the point?
“We should clean up,” you say, picking up a few plates to stack them. Jungkook follows your lead, helps clear the table, and walks over to set them in the sink.
Turning on the faucet, you rinse off the plates. Jungkook leans back against the kitchen island, eyes scanning over you.
“I meant what I said earlier.”
You close your eyes, then breathe out a sigh. Looking at the boy who used to be your best friend. His eyes hold the galaxy and you get easily lost in them. You’re an explorer longing to find the next big discovery. It’s right in front of you, but at a moment’s notice, you might lose him like you did before.
“Kook…we were kids back then, and you can’t change the past.” You continue to wash the dishes, but it’s hard to focus when he’s near.
Jungkook reaches to turn off the water, gently squeezing your arm to look at him. “Yeah, I know, but I can try to fix it now, right?”
Your hands grip onto the sink, your eyes focused on the water dripping from the spout. You fixate on Jungkook’s words. How can he reconcile a friendship he tore apart? And for what? A girl?
He calls your name, breaking your focus. “Talk to me.”
There’s a tightness in your chest as you turn to him. “Fix it? I don’t want you to fix it.”
“O-kay…then tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”
If it was only that easy.
You close the distance between you, looking at him. “What do I want?” He hums. “I want you to be broken. Wrecked—just like how I was. It took me years to get over you—our friendship. I hate it, Jungkook.”
“I hate what I did to you—”
“No,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t understand, Kook.” Your heart is aching—like someone reached in, squeezing it as hard as they can.
“Then explain.”
Your eyes meet his. “You. Own. Me,” you say, your index finger pressing into his chest with each word. “These last few weeks have been excruciating. I don’t know who I am when I’m around you. No matter how hard I try to convince myself that I’ve moved on. You’ll always be the one thing that I’ll never be over.”
Your heart is pounding, and every inch of your body is burning to the touch. You didn’t think anyone could ever make you this livid. But as much as you want to hate him, moving back home simply confirms everything you’ve been attempting to hide for the past seven years—you love him.
“I was hurt, too. You don’t think I was?” Jungkook says softly, lifting your chin so you can meet his gaze. “I was devastated, knowing how much I hurt you. I couldn’t eat or sleep for days. Seeing and talking to you every day and then it just stopped. My world was falling apart, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I watched you go off to live your life while I was stuck here with you, haunting me everywhere I went. Philz, the damn grocery store, the park–you were there. There was no escaping you. So yeah, I was wrecked and broken, just like you.”
The narrative you created in your head of Jungkook and Josie was something out of a fairytale. Boy meets girl, they fall in love and live happily ever after. But according to Jungkook, it was hardly the case. You haunted him as much as he haunted you throughout the years.
Chuckling to yourself, you think about how this could've been avoided if one of you had just spoken up. Stepping back from him, you take a breath to calm your nerves. You lean back against the sink, arms folded. “Can I ask you something?”
Jungkook’s eyes flick to you and his body mirrors yours. “I’m an open book, ___.”
“Why did you give up so easily? Why didn’t you fight for me? Our friendship?”
A beat passes, and he doesn’t respond. It’s foolish to think he’d have an answer for you.
Your lips thin, and you breathe out a sigh of frustration. “It’s fine, Kook. Don’t answer. We’ll just go back to the way things were. Have a good life.” You walk off toward the living room and he follows.
“You don’t get to walk away,” he says, shutting the front door when you try to open it.
“Yeah? Watch me!” You turn back to the door, attempting to open it, but Jungkook’s hand is holding it shut.
He grips your arm. “I was scared, okay? I was young and stupid, and scared.”
You turn around and push him back. “Scared? You’re still scared! That’s why you can’t even break up with Josie! She’s cheating on you, by the way! I saw her with some guy glued to her neck. I don’t understand why you can’t just let her go.”
“I’m not scared of breaking up with Josie. I just got comfortable with her being around and didn’t think I could do any better.” Jungkook steps back and reclines on the couch’s armrest.
“You don’t think you can do better than Josie? You’re Jeon Jungkook, of course, you can.”
He forces a laugh, shaking his head no. “I barely graduated high school, practically failed my college classes. I don’t have a steady job and I have no idea what I’m passionate about. So yeah, I didn’t think I could do any better than Josie, until…”
“Until…?”
“Until I saw you at the party. I know it sounds cheesy, but when I saw you standing in the living room. It was like a sign from the universe, waking me up from this auto-pilot life I was living in. Seeing you again really shook me up.”
You could say the same thing about seeing Jungkook again. The universe loved to toy with the two of you, didn’t it?
“And then after our dinner two weeks ago, I broke up with Josie–like officially. I gave all her stuff back. I’m not answering calls or anything. So, I guess when you saw her, she must’ve moved on to the next guy–that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, me breaking up with her.”
There was a sense of relief when he said that because you were ready to fight Josie.
“Oh,” you say softly, taking a step toward him. “I guess I was wrong about you—being scared, I mean.”
Jungkook’s toying with his necklace, circling it around his neck. “I’m still scared.” He steps toward you, waiting for you to look at him. “I’m scared I’m gonna mess this up,” he says.
“How are you going to mess this up? We’re just friends.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t want to be ‘just friends’.”
Your gaze flicks to him and then drops to his lips and back up again. You know what he’s alluding to, but you need to hear those words leave his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He knows you’re teasing him. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”
“Yes.”
“Because I love you, okay? I’m in love with you. Have always been in love with you, and I’m scared to lose you again.”
Your eyes are glossy, fighting back tears. You’ve longed to hear those words from Jungkook, and like him, you’re afraid of an unknown future, but right now, all that matters is him.
As a tear falls down your cheek, you’re ready to let love in. Let him in. Discover new things. Rediscover old things. You’re ready to be vulnerable, move forward from the past, and let go of the heartache and pain.
“I’m sorry,” you breathe.
Jungkook steps toward you, cupping your face. “No, no, no. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
You shake your head. “No, I do. I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for you–for our friendship. It’s my fault too.”
His thumbs caress your cheeks. “Hey, can we agree to let the past be in the past and just focus on us now, in the present?”
Your hands cover his, and you nod, flashing a soft smile. “Mhm. I’d like that.”
Jungkook wipes your tear-stained cheeks. “Now, can I do something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time?”
“What’s that?”
His lips finally touch yours. It’s not fervent or haste. It’s soft, uncertain. But you kiss him back. You’re savoring each point of contact. His lips overlapping yours, capturing a hint of your cherry Chapstick. Your eyes are half-lidded and you pull back for air, but he leans in, bringing you back in for more. His nose bumps into yours as he turns his head, deepening the kiss. Your body presses against his, your fists balled up, tugging on his white t-shirt. There’s a glow of excitement and nervousness rushing throughout your body when one of his hands grips your waist and the other is on the small of your back, pushing you further into him.
A low whine leaves his lips when you withdraw. He reaches for another kiss, but you stop him.
“Kook—” you whisper as his forehead touches yours.
“I don’t want to stop kissing you,” he says, kissing your cheek and tracing your jawline. “Don’t think I can ever stop.”
You chuckle. “I don’t want to stop kissing you, either. Maybe we should take this to the bedroom?”
While lying in bed next to Jungkook, you simply enjoy each other’s presence. Your fingers trace stars across his chest and you love how he breathes–his chest rising and falling ever so softly. The sound of his voice vibrates through your fingers and into your body. With one arm wrapped around you and the other resting behind his head, Jungkook tells you about the dreams he had but never dared to pursue–you being one of them.
And as the clock strikes midnight, the magic of you and him didn’t dissipate. It’s here. It’s real.
#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fic#jungkook angst#jungkook x reader#jungkook x y/n#jungkook scenarios#jungkook imagines#fic: things you didn't say
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I noticed you asked for requests and idk if this is the way to ask, I think it is but I'm not sure, sorry if it's not, you can dm me if you have a preferred way or this request doesn't follow the rules (I read them, but I always get anxious about requesting fics lol)
Can I ask for an Aventurine x reader where they both went out to a casino for a date night and they're coming back home just a bit buzzed? And they get home and just get in PJs (all while being goofy and sappy) and just fall asleep cuddling together?
a sweetly buzzed romance.
૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა • ! aventurine + reader reader is gender-neutral established relationship domestic fluff tooth-rotting fluff ☆ warning not proofread . . . !? & 625— catalogue
note. hi there, don't worry, your request did follow my rules hehe. i didn't really include them being buzzed so uh, i hope you forgive me on missing out on that :"). but i hope you enjoy^^
“Ugh, I’m so tired,” you grumbled under your breath, eyes barely open as you struggled to remove your shoes.
Seeing your drowsy state, Aventurine chuckled and lent a helping hand by getting to his knees to help you out. You leaned against the wall, covering your mouth as you yawned and the sight made his heart melt, for you resembled a tired cat. He placed your shoes neatly by the side, his following along before venturing further into your shared home. It was cute with how he was holding your hand; as if he couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from you for a mere second.
“Do you want to take a shower?” He asks softly, eyes flickering to your sleepy expression as he brings you to the bedroom.
“Not really, I just want to sleep right now,” you muttered, words borderline slurring. One would have thought you were drunk with how you were acting.
Humming in acknowledgment, Aventurine guides you to sit on the edge of the bed. He takes it upon himself to choose your pajamas. He ended up choosing a matching pair of silky-smooth brown pajamas which was also his personal favorite, due to how smooth the fabric was to the touch. The gambler sniggered when he saw you had dozed off while waiting for him, resulting in him gently shaking you by the shoulder to wake you up.
“Wake up, darling. You need to get changed,” he murmurs, his words eliciting a noise of protest from you as you reluctantly open your eyes.
“Help me,” you whined, raising your eyes and pouting at him. And who was he to say no to you?
“You’re such a spoiled person. Whatever should I do with you, hm?” He teased, helping you to change out of your clothes as he placed them on the bed beside you.
“But you love me,” you retorted, and a genuine smile appeared on your lover’s face.
“Yes, you’re right. I do love you.”
The sudden agreeing and pure sincerity in his voice made your heart stop beating for a moment. Aventurine laughed at how your ears flushed red, resulting in him getting a light-hearted kick to his knees. The bedroom was filled with laughter and your voices as both of you started goofing around, safe and hidden from any prying eyes. With you, Aventurine can be himself without having to put on a facade.
“Alright, I think that’s enough playing around. You need to brush your teeth before sleeping,” he said, easily carrying you in his arms, savoring the startled noise you made as you clung onto him for dear life, despite knowing he would never drop you.
The two of you stood side by side, in front of the mirror as you brushed your teeths. You couldn’t resist the urge to bump your hips against his, your laughter muffled with the toothpaste in your mouth. Aventurine playfully narrowed his eyes at you, his free hand shooting out to poke your side and you nearly choked on the toothpaste. It ended up with you two having a second round of play fighting and by the time you were done, you were exhausted to the core.
Being the gentleman he is, Aventurine carried you to the bed and tucked you in first before he followed. It was by pure instinct that you snuggled close to him, burying your face in his chest as he wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. He gently brushed his hand through your hair, the sound of his steady heartbeat and his action was enough to soon lure you to sleep.
“Sleep well, my beloved,” he whispers, pressing a loving kiss on your forehead before joining you, in the land of dreams.
#୨୧ magazine articles#honkai star rail#star rail imagines#star rail x reader#aventurine imagines#aventurine x reader#aventurine x y/n#aventurine x you
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All She Wants, Part Two
Summary: Y/N decides to leave the bunker for good when Dean reiterates that he can never give her what she wants. Struggling to adjust without her, Dean turns to hormone suppressants, unable to stomach the thought of going through a rut with anyone else.
Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Female Omega!Reader
Rating: 18+ Only
Bingo Square: Hormone Suppressants for @j3bingo
Warnings: omegaverse, A/B/O, A/B/O dynamics, angst, arguments, heats, ruts, language, Dean’s still a bit of an asshole.
Word Count: 4.2k
A/N: The response to the first part of this angsty, angsty fic has been overwhelming. Thank you to every single one of you who read and commented and reblogged. It means so much 🥹 Now, without further ado, I hope you love part two!
You can catch up here!
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Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy, or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖
Being back in the bunker is suffocating, and you haven’t even been back twelve hours yet. The mild cramps in your stomach are now an annoying and constant discomfort, and being near Dean is only making it worse. Your body is so used to the green-eyed hunter that his scent has you craving him. If you don’t get out of here and find another alpha, you know you’ll cave and go to the man who keeps breaking your heart.
Digging into the depths of your meagre closet, you pull out one of the few dresses you have and get ready to have a night on the town. It’s nerve-wracking; you haven’t done this in a long time, but you need to kick old habits and rid yourself of your addiction to Dean. It’s no longer a healthy relationship—maybe it never had been—but your last time together opened your eyes and proved that he doesn’t see you as anything other than a fuck toy.
Walking through the hallways of the bunker, your heels click loudly on the cold, concrete floors as you head towards the library. You know at least one of the boys will be there, and you pray to Chuck it’s Sam. You’d skip this part entirely, given it’s none of their business, but as an unmated omega going to find someone to satisfy a heat, it’s probably best that someone knows your intentions.
As you turn the corner into the room, the scent of Dean’s agitation slaps you in the face. If you’re not careful and can’t control your emotions, it’ll end in a fight and a tumble in the sheets, and that’s really the last thing you need.
“Where are you going dressed like that?” Dean asks as soon as he sets eyes on you.
“Out,” you respond.
“You’re in heat, Omega,” Dean growls.
“I’m aware,” you can feel your body warm as his gaze on you intensifies.
“Do you think it’s wise to go out in your condition?” Dean questions, and you fight your biological instinct to shrink in on yourself and submit to him.
“I need to find an alpha who’ll help me through this, so yes, I do think it’s wise.”
“You have me, Y/N.” Dean’s tone softens, and the hurt that flashes in his eyes almost makes you run to him.
“No, I don’t. Not anymore.” You don’t wait for his response, walking out of the library and up the stairs because you’re so close to saying screw it and making him take you right there in the library.
“I’ll be back in a few days,” you call out and shut the bunker door behind you.
You know you won’t find what you’re looking for in the bar a few towns over, but at least you’ll find someone who can scratch your current itch and make you forget about Dean fucking Winchester.
At least for a few days.
DEAN’S POV
Dean feels his heart shatter as he watches Y/N walk out the door. This isn’t how he wanted things to go with her. He wanted to talk to her and apologise for his behaviour during his last rut. At least if he’d done that, there was a chance they could still have some kind of relationship.
What they had is gone. He knows that. He’s hurt her too much. If he’d dealt with things differently, they’d still have had the potential to at least be civil to one another, but his gut’s telling him that the opportunity for civility has gone.
He can’t blame himself entirely; she hasn’t let herself be alone with him since he’d realised how much of an asshole he’d been to her. Dean had expected her to come to him last night when the scent of her heat became stronger and carried through the bunker, but she’d remained shut in her bedroom. He isn’t even sure she’d eaten since yesterday morning.
“Hey,” Sam says as he sits beside his brother and hands him a beer. “I heard you and Y/N talking. You alright?”
“No, Sammy, I’m not. You know, it never once occurred to me that what Y/N and I had could end?”
“It doesn’t have to,” Sam says softly, noticing tears in Dean’s eyes.
“Yeah, it does. I can’t give her what she wants—”
“Can’t or won’t?” Sam interrupts, and Dean’s heart pangs at the implication he’s being his usual stubborn ass alpha self.
“I can’t, Sam.” Dean didn’t usually show his vulnerabilities to Sam. He’s the pack leader and can’t afford to show weakness. The only person he’s ever shown vulnerability to is Y/N.
“Why?” Sam’s question is simple, but the weight of the answer is something Dean’s not sure he’s ready to admit out loud.
“It’s complicated,” Dean answers and takes a long swig of beer, drinking half the bottle in two swallows.
“Enlighten me, Dean, because from where I’m standing, it’s not complicated at all. You already have an emotional bond with her. You’ve been mating with her for what, six or seven years? Why is it so hard for you to claim her, have that deeper chemical bond, and make you both happy by having a couple of pups? It’d be nice to have some little ones running around here.”
“Because the second I claim her, she has a target on her back. She’ll become the hunted. Every monster on the continent will want to tear her apart to get to me. And that’s something I won’t survive.”
“So you do want to claim her?” Sam confirms, a small smile pulling at his lips.
“Of course I do!” Dean’s voice booms across the library. “I love her. More than anything. I always have, but I would rather die than put her in danger because of me and who I am,” Dean can’t keep his turmoil to himself anymore. Now it’s out in the open with Sam, he can’t shut the hell up. “I have thought of every way possible to give her what she wants… for years. Give us what we want, but in every scenario, she ends up dead, and I end up alone.”
“Dean, if you keep going the way you have been, she’ll die, and you’ll be alone anyway. And if you let her walk out of here and into the arms of another alpha, you’ll still be alone.”
“I know that, Sam! But I’d rather spend the rest of my life alone and know she was safe and happy with another alpha and a few pups than put a target on her back by claiming her! What part of that don’t you understand?”
“You think Y/N would be happy with another alpha? You think she wanted to go out hunting for someone else to fuck her through her heat? You think she’s not wishing it was you? You think she doesn’t love you? Because she does, Dean! It’s clear to everyone!” Sam’s frustrations reach boiling point, and he no longer has the patience to hold back. “That curse she saved me from loosely translated to stealing what your brother has broken and making it yours. If she hadn’t got between me and that witch, and I’d been hit by that curse, I’d have claimed Y/N for myself because you’re too chicken shit to do it. You know what that means, right? That even the witch knew you were in some kind of relationship. Even just being associated with you in the way she is makes her a target. And she’s an even bigger one without a claim.”
“Then maybe it’s for the best that she’s out there trying to find someone to take care of her,” Dean said, raising his eyebrows at Sam’s exasperation.
“No, Dean! It means that, claimed or not, monsters know what Y/N is to you and you to her. It means she’s already a target, and you’ve been protecting her from the monsters for a long time. Claiming her and having pups with her isn’t going to change that.”
“Look, can we just drop this? Y/N is better off without me, okay? And nothing you say will change my mind. She deserves something good, and I’m not good.”
Pushing his chair back, Dean stands from the table and enters the kitchen. He grabs a bottle of Scotch from the cabinet and locks himself in his bedroom to lick his wounds.
It may not be the healthiest way to deal with things, but at least getting blind drunk on whiskey will stop the images of Y/N presenting for another alpha or taking another’s knot from playing like a video in his mind.
FIVE DAYS LATER
Y/N’S POV
“You’re alive, then,” Dean’s voice greets you as soon as you step into the bunker.
“I am,” you respond, warily making your way down the stairs. You’re on high alert, knowing this could turn volatile very quickly.
“You alright?” he asks next, his eyes scanning your body for signs of injury. His gaze lingers on your neck, and when he notices it remains unblemished, he releases a breath, and his shoulders relax slightly.
“I’m fine.” It feels like you cheated on Dean, and it makes you feel so sick you want to cry.
“Good. I’m glad you’re okay. I mean, you could’ve called. Let us know you were fine. It would’ve stopped Sam and me from worrying about you every second of the day. For all we knew, you were lying in a ditch somewhere.”
“My phone’s GPS was still…” you pause and sigh, knowing you don’t need to explain anything to him. “Look, can we not do this, please?” You plead. It’s been a rough few days, and you just want to shower and sleep.
You stop next to him, waiting for him to let you pass and frown when he rears back with a snarl.
“Go shower, Omega. The stench of sex and Alpha makes me want to vomit,” Dean growls and walks away, leaving you standing at the entrance to the library, no longer able to keep the tears in.
The decision to leave is one of the hardest you’ve ever had to make. The bunker is your home, too. Still, you know you’re no longer welcome. Dean doesn’t want you, and you’ve hurt each other beyond repair. You could’ve tried to sort this mess out. You could’ve done that rather than look for a heat buddy, but had you not gone out, you’d have fallen straight back into bad habits and Dean’s bed. You had to break ties with him completely, and the only way to do that was to sleep with someone else, even if it broke both your hearts in the process.
Between the anxiety from you and Dean’s argument after the witch hunt and your heat, you’ve barely eaten for the past week. Before you leave for good, you head to the kitchen to grab something quickly, knowing it’s late enough that both Winchesters will be in their bedrooms, and you can eat and leave undetected.
“Sneaking out on us, huh? That’s mature,” Dean scoffs, and you jump, startled by his voice coming from somewhere in the dark kitchen.
“Any particular reason you’re sitting in the pitch black, Dean?” you ask, your hackles raised and ready to flee if needed.
“Answer my question first, then maybe I’ll answer yours.”
“Come on, Dean. We both know it’s not a good idea for me to stay here,” you reason.
“But this is your home,” Dean says, and where before you only heard contempt, you can now detect hurt.
“Not anymore.” You turn to leave, deciding to just forget about food so you can get the hell out of here.
“Please don’t walk away from me, Omega.”
“I told you I’m not your Omega, Dean. You’ve made that abundantly clear over the years.”
“Y/N, please, sweetheart,” he begs, and you turn to face him, your anger rising.
“No, Dean. I can’t do this with you anymore. We can’t keep doing this same dance over and over again. I want more. I need—” Your voice catches in your throat, and you swallow down the emotion that wants to spill from you. “I need to be claimed. I need to have pups. It’s in my biology, Dean, and I can’t change that. And I can’t change the fact that if I don’t settle down soon, I’ll go feral and die.”
“And you’re gonna do that with the asshat from the bar?” Dean spits back at you.
“No! I want to do it with you, but you don’t want me!” The tears spring from your eyes, and once again, you will Chuck, or whatever fucking angel is standing in his stead, to give you the strength you need to finally leave. To break this toxic bond that’s been forged under false pretences for years.
“Y/N, I do want you. I just can’t give you what you need,” Dean pleads.
“You can,” you nod with a tearful smile. “Because even if it wasn’t in the traditional way, you gave me what I needed for years. You just don’t want to.”
“No, Omega, please.”
“Goodbye, Dean.”
DEAN’S POV
Y/N has been gone for two months, and there hasn’t been a peep from her. If Sam has heard anything, he’s kept it quiet, and Dean hasn’t asked. She’s turned off the GPS on her phone and removed the tracker from her car, and anyone he’s asked in their network either hasn’t seen or heard from her or has just told him she’s fine.
He misses her laugh and her smile. He misses her comforting scent that would linger around the bunker. He misses her soft, warm body sliding into bed next to him when she’d had a nightmare or wanted to cuddle in those first few hours of her heat before her need for him changed to something more carnal.
Yet, never once did he reach out to her. She’d made it pretty clear they were done, and he’s accepted that. What he did to her was unforgivable. Still, he’s hurting, too and feels betrayed by what she did. He may not have the right, but it’s how he feels, and try as he might, he can’t change it.
As the telltale signs of his next rut make themselves known, Dean knows this will be the hardest challenge he’s faced since Y/N left, but if she could so easily toss him aside and find someone else to mate with, so could he.
Standing at the bar, Dean preens under the attention of several omegas surrounding him. It’s been a long time since he’s had so many women fawn over him, and he guesses that being with Y/N has kept them at bay all these years.
Looking towards the other end of the bar, he does a double-take. The woman has similar features to Y/N: same eye colour, same shaped face, and from what he can see, a similar figure. It’s not her, but Dean is on his feet and making his way over to her before he can think twice about it.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean gives the woman his most charming smile and feels his confidence soar as she giggles and looks down briefly before raising her eyes and batting her lashes at him. “The name’s Dean.”
“Carly,” she responds shyly, and Dean smirks.
“Pretty name. It suits you, Omega. Can I buy you a drink?” he drawls, using his alpha tone.
“Sure, Alpha,” she smiles sweetly, batting her eyes at him once more, and Dean knows he’s found a rut partner for the next few days.
“So, what’s your poison?” Dean asks, grabbing the bartender’s attention.
“Appletini,” Carly says, and Dean fights a scoff at the girly concoction. Y/N would’ve ordered a whiskey or an Old Fashioned if the mood struck her, none of this fruity shit that makes you question whether there’s even any alcohol in it.
“Whiskey, neat, and an appletini for the lady,” Dean says to the bartender.
“So, Dean, what’s a handsome alpha like you doing in a place like this?” Carly asks.
Glancing at her kind eyes that remind him so much of Y/N’s, he finds himself spilling everything to her. He’s not sure why he finds it easier to talk to a stranger than his own brother or even Cas, but he does.
“Look,” Dean says after an hour of talking and a few more whiskeys. “I came here intending to find an omega to ride out my rut with, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he confesses. “I’m not even sure I could… physically… uh, you know.” he chuckles.
“I think that’s a wise decision, Dean,” Carly smiles kindly. “I don’t think you’re in the right frame of mind to be mating with someone new. You haven’t fully accepted that your mate left you, and it could be dangerous for both of us if we leave here together.”
“I wouldn’t say she’s my mate. I never claimed her, so…” Dean shrugs, feeling a little bad for leading her on.
“Doesn’t matter, Dean. You bonded with her intimately, and I’m guessing you stayed faithful and only had her the entire time, right?”
“I only ever wanted her,” Dean nods and swallows another whiskey.
“So, you were together like a beta couple would be, right? Like dating but not married?” Carly replies with a knowing smile, and Dean has to admit he’s never looked at his relationship with Y/N in that way before.
“I suppose we were,” he responds with a nod to the bartender for another drink.
“Do you know where she is? Can you go to her?” Carly asks.
“No,” Dean sighs. “We have some mutual friends, but they are very quiet about her whereabouts. Don’t get me wrong, I get it. I hurt her. A lot. And I wish I’d handled things differently.”
“You’ll get there, Dean,” she smiles. “And if you don’t, try begging your friends to tell you where she is and grovel until she forgives you!” Carly chuckles and squeezes his hand. “It could be an easy fix if you can overcome your fears. It’s clear you love her, and if you can give into those feelings, you’ll work it out.”
Carly hops off the barstool and pulls her purse strap over her shoulder. “Goodbye, Dean. I hope you find your girl and make things right,” she cups his cheek and winks at him before walking away and leaving him alone.
Downing the whiskey in one, Dean throws some bills on the bar and heads to the Impala. If he’s going to see himself through his rut, he’d need a lot of provisions.
It took six days, three bottles of lube, and the help of various knotting toys for Dean to come through the other side of his rut. He can’t remember the last time one had been so brutal or unforgiving. However, now he’s out and can start taking the suppressants he got from the drugstore, so he doesn’t need to go through one again.
“Hey, you alright?” Sam asks, seeing Dean at the hob, frying bacon and eggs.
“Still feeling rough, but some food and fresh air should do me good. Please tell me you found a hunt while I was out.”
“Yeah, looks like there’s a ghoul loose in Stillwater, Oklahoma.”
“Alright, then. We’ll get everything together and leave in a couple of hours.”
“Dean, are you sure you’re up for this? You still look a little… off.”
“I’m fine, Sammy. Just ready to get out of here. Been cooped up too long.”
For the next few months, that’s what they do; move from small town to small town, saving people and hunting things, and Dean? Well, he’s just peachy.
FOUR MONTHS LATER
Dean always knew the suppressants would take some getting used to. They’re the drug store variety and weren’t for long-term use. Still, the nausea and headaches are getting worse and are now accompanied by bouts of fever and a loss of appetite.
He knows his age probably isn’t helping, and the fact he’s been rejected by his mate in a roundabout way, so rejection sickness has been on his mind the past few days as his symptoms got worse.
Sam’s said he’s easier to anger than usual too, and Dean’s starting to feel constantly on edge now. He can only hope whatever this is will end soon because this fucking sucks.
Swallowing down another pill, Dean throws the pill bottle into his duffle so that he and Sam can get home, put this vampire hunt behind them, and take some time off.
Although sceptical at first, he’s now grateful he’d agreed to take a break from hunting for a couple of weeks to recoup and relax. They hadn’t stopped hunting in close to twelve weeks, and he feels awful. A little time off might be just what he needs.
“Ready to go, Dean?” Sam asks, frowning when he notices the pill bottle at the top of his brother’s bag. The younger Winchester walks over and picks it up, huffing loudly. “This is what you’ve been taking? Over the counter suppressants?”
“Yeah, so?” Dean replies.
“Dean, these aren’t for long-term use. They’re supposed to only delay a rut for a couple of weeks, not for taking every day. Why didn’t you go to a doctor and get the right thing?”
“Oh, because we have that luxury, Sammy!” Dean snaps. “‘Do you have insurance? No. What’s your address? An underground fortress in the middle of fucking nowhere.’ Seriously, you don’t see anything wrong with that? And they say you’re the smart one!” Dean scoffs and shakes his head.
“We would’ve found a way, Dean. We always do. These are probably doing more harm than good. I think it’s why you’re feeling off, and it’s only going to get worse.”
“It can’t get any worse, Sammy! Y/N left me. Nothing will ever be worse than that!” Dean yells as he grabs his bag and stalks out of the motel room, and slams the door.
Dean is agitated. So much so that even he can’t deny it. And the more he tries not to be, the worse he gets. He knows it’s annoying Sam—it’s annoying him, too—but it’s not something he has any control over. Everything is going haywire; his skin itches, sweat drips down his back, and he just wants to pick fights. That’s why he had a go at the idiot at the gas station and the douchebag from the diner. He blames Sam for that one. He wanted to keep driving, but Sammy just had to stretch his freakishly long fucking legs now, didn’t he?
When Sam finally rejoins him in the car, Dean tries to avoid his baby brother’s puppy eyes. He knows he’s fucked up. He knows he should’ve found a way to get the real thing, but the fear of a doctor telling him he’s a lost cause, that because his mate left him would mean that suppressants can’t fix him stopped him. Besides, it can’t take the ache of Y/N’s departure away. It doesn’t change the fact that as an alpha, it was his duty to claim her.
“What am I in for, Sammy?” Dean finally asks, breaking his silence on his suppressant use. He’s not sure he wants to know, but he needs to keep what’s left of his pack safe. If this ends the way he dreads, he needs to put a plan in place.
“You’ll go into a rut that can only be satisfied by uhm… your mate,” Sam says, avoiding her name so it doesn't set the older alpha off again. “And because she’s not here, you’ll go feral,” Sam sighs.
“And when I go feral, I’ll be dangerous to any omega who isn’t Y/N,” Dean finishes what Sam doesn’t say.
“I think it’s already started. I can smell your rut pheromones, but they’re… off.” Sam said.
“Listen to me, Sammy. I’m going to the safe house in Montana. I’ll let nature take its course. You will leave me there and take the Impala so I can’t get out.” Dean begins, but Sam’s quick to intervene.
“Dean, no. I can track down Y/N. When she hears what’s happening, she’ll—”
“Laugh and tell you to tell me to go fuck myself! I made my bed, Sammy. I gotta lie in it.”
“You’re signing your own death warrant!”
“Then so be it!” Dean roars, but Sam won’t back down.
“I can’t let you do that when someone can help you!”
“She won’t come because she doesn’t want me, Sam!” Dean yells. “How many times do I have to say it? She left me because I couldn’t give her what she wanted. For all we know, another alpha has already claimed her.”
“I have to try, Dean! I can’t just let you die!” Sam is trying to stay calm, not wanting to upset his brother more.
“Yeah? Well, maybe it’s what I deserve.”
“It’s not, and you know it. I’ll lock you in that cabin and take the car with me to keep you safe, but I will find Y/N.”
“Fine. I can’t stop you,” Dean relents. “But when she tells you she’s done with me, you will leave me there, and whatever happens, happens. Deal?”
“Deal,” Sam agrees reluctantly.
Next Chapter>>
Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567
#j3bingo#omegaverse#a/b/o dynamics#alpha!dean winchester x omega!reader#dean winchester x reader#a/b/o universe#a/b/o
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cw: mentions of s/h scars, insecurities, hurt/comfort, soft chan, 3rd person fem pov, swearing, mentions of body worship, small caps on purpose (please let me know if i missed any)
wc: 0.7k
a.n - HUGE DISCLAIMER. please please refrain from reading if you’re sensitive to any of the topics above. this is meant to be a vent post and NOT glorification of s/h, mental illnesses, ect. feel free to scroll if necessary. and if you want/need to talk my dms are always open. i love you all <3
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧
looking at herself in the mirror, y/n sighs. she ghosts her fingertips over the lines of scar tissue littering her outer thigh, each one a reminder of every time she’s struggled.
each one proof that she overcame them. that she survived.
even though she knows this she can’t help but critique them, and herself.
how could she have been so weak, so fragile that she let her thoughts and feelings consume her life so much to the extent that she broke.
fortunately for her, there had always someone there that picked up the shards of her soul that had been scattered around. he glued them back together with his love and overtime handed her heart back in one piece, almost as if it never was broken in the first place.
“hi baby,” chris greets as rests his chin on her shoulder, dragging her out of her thoughts.
“hey,” she mumbles, continuing to run her fingers over the length of a particularly large scar. her boyfriend’s hands move to hold her hips, afraid that if he lets go she’ll slip through his fingers.
“what did i tell you about that, hm?” his voice is low and gentle as he scans over her body. the same body that he quite literally worships, always reassuring her of his adoration.
y/n sighs and pinches her eyes shut so she doesn’t have to look at him as she replies, “criticizing them is almost as bad as creating them.”
chris pulls y/n closer before whispering into her ear, as if they weren’t the only ones in the room. “exactly. now look at me, baby.” y/n shakes her head, feeling too embarrassed.
“baby girl. look at me.” chris manages to keep his composure despite feeling about a dozen emotions at once. though, it’s not the first time she’s been like this and they both know that it won’t be the last. he’s never minded it, actually, and never will. he would rather her talk about her urges then act on them. however, he’d never let that happen as long as he’s alive.
y/n lifts her gaze to meet his in the mirror, watching as his lips curl into his familiar, warm smile.
“there she is,” he murmurs, “can i?” chris’s hand creeps down from her waist to her leg where her shorts are raised, her insecurities on display for him.
she nods as she leans back against his chest. she follows his fingers as they trace over the largest scar tainting her skin.
“no matter how many times i see them, i’m never going to stop loving them. loving you. but you know this already, don’t you baby?” y/n nods. of course she knows, chris doesn’t give her a moment to doubt- or even forget his words. and he never will.
“you’re strong, y’know that? you are so very strong. and i know you hate hearing it but it’s the truth. you persevered and even though it pains me to admit it, you did it all on your own. that takes guts, baby.” chris buries his face in her neck, placing soft kisses on the column of her throat.
they stay like this for a while: his arms wrapped around her as he sways back and forth. he finally breaks the silence after he turns her to face him. he cups her jaw before placing a soft kiss on her lips.
“c’mon. let me run you a bath, yeah? i’ll make you some tea too.” y/n nods and smiles at him.
“thank you,” she laces their fingers together.
“for what, baby?”
“for loving me,” chris frowns slightly and pulls her into a comforting embrace, engulfing her in his warmth.
“you don’t ever need to feel the need to thank me for that, okay? i’ll always be here.”
whoever said that you can’t love somebody else until you love yourself was a fucking liar. chris is walking proof of this
#snowyquokka#stray kids#skz#skz imagines#skz scenarios#skz reactions#skz bang chan#stray kids bang chan#bangchan#bang chan#stray kids fic#skz fic#bang chan fic#stray kids angst#skz angst#bang chan angst#vent post
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summary: despite your reluctance, joel wants to fill you up.
kinktober ii: cnc + breeding
warnings: 18+ only -> mdni. Joel Miller x afab!reader. consensual non consent. threat of breeding. rough sex. asphyxiation. slight mention of aftercare. no beta.
word count: 1.2k
author’s note: per this post and @thornsnvultures sliding into my DMs with this thot. probably not my best but i'm posting it anyways. 🤷♀️
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ♁ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭
He missed the power. The control. The brutality.
The topic had been discussed only once but the point was clear. Joel did not want to raise a child in this new, horrific world.
Settling down in Jackson with you had been good for him. The boring monotony of day-to-day life. It wasn’t just surviving. It was making something out of nothing, growing together. Helping your fellow man; not just stealing from him (or worse).
Still, that unsettling need would return from time to time. It’d take root in the base of his skull like one of the countless bullets he’d left in his victims. The savagery beckoned him like a gnat scratching at the surface. The urge to claim sinking its fangs in once again.
Normally he’d go on a long hunt. Seek out unseemly folk and leave a path of destruction in his wake. This morning, however, a storm brewed outside. The windows glitter with a layer of frost as the wind howls through Jackson.
You flinch awake. Trepidation settling in your belly. You know this feeling. You’ve been here many times before. You’ll stay by Joel’s side until your last breath. So you do what you’ve both discussed; wait.
A brute hand forces you onto your front. A gasp falls from your lips as a heavy weight settles on your back. Your lungs seize under the pressure making blood pulse behind your eyes.
“Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Joel sneers. He drags the hook of his nose up the side of your face, smiling as you struggle to suck a breath in. “Got you right where I want cha’, pretty girl.”
You jab an elbow back hoping to clip his jaw but he easily cages in it a steely grip. He yanks your left arm out from under your body with a dark chuckle and roughly secures your wrist in one of his large palms.
“I like ‘em feisty.” he grits, dipping his head down and brushing his lips along the shell of your ear. “Gets my blood pumping” he drawls, a sick grin tugging at his lips. “and something else too.”
He shifts his weight, lessening the pressure on your upper body, and grids his hard cock against your ass. You instinctively twist in his grip, bucking your hips and tugging on his hold. Joel hollers above you, “Yeah, that’s it. Show me how tough you are, sweet girl.”
You whine, knowing there is no way out. He was much too strong. Still, it was part of the game.
“You know, it’ll be better for you if you just give in.” the warm, soothing words flutter into your brain calming your heart for just a brief moment.
You know what he’s capable of. You’ve seen the brutality, the rage but you also know about the quiet side. The way he holds your hand when you walk into town. The soft eyes he gives you when you cuddle into his side. The way he’s so tender with you when he cradles your face in his hands.
“Wanna fill you up.” Joel murmurs. Pulling your right knee up to your chest before sliding a large hand along the apex of your sex. “That’s my pretty pussy.” he groans as he drags a lazy finger up the slice of you. “Can never get enough of it.” he coos into your hair before kissing the top of your spine. “Of you.”
“Joel- no, please.” you whimper, shaking your head. “You can’t.”
He “tsks” behind you. A brute hand catches the back of your neck and digs his digits into the tender column. Warm breath brushes the shell of your ear as he leans in close. “You think you’re in a position to call the shots? Stupid girl.”
A gasp catches in your throat when he taps the heavy tip of his cock on your barely wet opening. He notches the bulbous crown just past your folds before sliding in ever so slowly. He takes his time filling you up. He wants this to last. Doesn’t want to know where he begins and you end.
Your core envelopes the weight and size of him. Molding around his thick length until you’re busting at the seams. “Thatta’ girl.” Joel grits through clenched teeth as your velvet walls make room for him. His cock brushes your cervix with a brazen kiss as he bottoms out making you wince.
His fingers dance cruelly on the crux of your mound, tugging on the hair that grows earning him a sharp cry before moving south. He circles your clit with expertise, knowing your body better than you did. A dense knot of unsavory pleasure forms in your belly, slowly growing tighter with every flick of his wrist.
He finally rocks his hips and the air punches from your lungs. He sets a constant motion, sawing his length in and out. In and out. From his bulbous tip to the soaked base of his shaft, he takes. He defiles.
Joel tugs your body close, wrapping his left arm around your font and splaying between your breasts effectively caging you against his broad form. “You feel so fuckin’ good, sweet girl.”
He grinds his cock deep after a weighty thrust, pushing his hips against the cushion of your ass. “Gonna fill you up.” he grunts, snapping his hips and pressing into the deepest part of you. “Make ya all round. Leave ya a drippin’ mess.”
Joel’s hips snap hard. It forces the air from your lungs and shakes your bones. If it weren’t for his hold you would’ve rolled to the other side of the bed.
A pathetic mewl tumbles from your lips, anxiety boiling over. “Joel, no!” you cry, praying he pulls out before it’s too late.
Without thinking, you toss your head back and catch the top of his brow, bruising his eye socket with a curt blow.
The room goes eerily still. The man behind you is deathly silent as your heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s trying to break free from your chest.
A heavy hand circles your neck and tugs you backward. Your neck is instantly constricted, barely allowing any air to pass by under his palm. He pins your head against his shoulder forming his large, powerful frame against your shivering one. “Wrong fuckin’ move.”
Ice runs up your spine, chilling your insides to the bone as his fingers press on your veins, seeking out the one that makes you comply every time you try to revolt.
"Just for that, I'm gonna keep fuckin' ya after I fill you up." he sneers. "Make sure it sticks."
Blood pounds under your skin as the room spins. Your sight glazes over while he shoves his cock past your walls as they involuntarily clench around his girth from the rough treatment.
His cock swells, bigger and bigger with every drive. “Shit.” he hisses, clutching your throat just a bit tighter as his hips stutter. A black mist slowly begins to crowd your sight, your eyes roll backward, mind and body go numb.
In a flash, he loosens his grip on your neck and pulls from your warmth, circling his shiny, soaked cock with a tight grip. He pumps his length, chasing his high before coming with a raspy moan and spilling hot ropes along the curve of your ass.
A heavy blanket of silence falls over the room while Joel catches his breath. He feels the rage melting away as his heart slowly beats to its usual rhythm. That all-consuming need has been stamped out. For now.
In a moment, he’ll scoop you into his arms and leave a soft kiss on the crown of your head. He’ll hum words of love while you relax against his chest and eventually fall back to sleep.
You close your eyes and wait like you always do.
running away now. 😅 feel free to scream at me -> 💌
follow @ozzieslibrary for fic notifs!
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The Quiet Ones 1
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.
Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader
Note: don't ask me why I did this.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.
Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖
You keep to yourself. That’s the safest, the easiest way to live. You keep your head down, your eyes to yourself, your voice bottled up.
You grip your phone as you approach the coffee shop. You stand on your toes to see through the painted windows and frown at the long queue. You won’t have to worry about that. Like everything else social, you’ve found a work around.
You look at your phone, the app showing your order as ‘preparing’. It should be done shortly as the progress bar fills close to complete. You can bear the claustrophobia for a minute or so until it’s ready.
You go to open the door but an arm reaches past you and does that first. You step back, patiently waiting for the other customer to precede you. They don’t move. You stare at their shoes. Dark blue velvet loafers with gold emblems on chains.
“Go on, baby face, I got it,” the man’s voice makes your skin crawl.
You shrink down and give a nod, throat clenching as you struggle to find your voice. You’re not much for conversation but you’re but impolite.
“Thanks,” you force out without raising your head.
You scurry through quickly, a bit to close to the stranger than you like, and you clasp your phone against your chest as you stand just away from the cluster of people awaiting their orders. You bounce on your feet as the noises join together to form a cacophony; the hissing steam, the clanging metal, the clinking porcelain, the calls of the workers behind the counter, and the buzz of the crowd seated or standing around the cafe. Sweat gathers on the nape of your neck as the chaos swirls a storm around you.
You pull your phone away from the front of your pullover and check the screen. Should be ready any moment and you’ll be free of the circus. You adjust your grip on the phone, almost jittery as another customer joins the wait at the pick up window.
You breathe out. It’s not usually this busy at this time. You have a routine. You can handle the expected. You order on your phone so you don’t need to talk to anyone. You wait outside until it’s almost done then come in too quickly claim your prize. But not today, something’s different and it’s throwing everything off.
It’s only on Wednesday’s that you venture down to the cafe. It’s the halfway point of your week so you mark it with a taste of motivation. The same order every week. A London fog latte. Simple and affordable. Nothing fancy, nothing complicated.
Your name cuts through the din, “...medium London fog.”
You drop your arm to your side and set your shoulders. You march forward through the parting bodies ahead of you and reach for the cup. Before you can grasp it, someone else scoops it up. You nearly cry out in horror. Someone’s stealing your order!
You turn to the tea thief but they make no move to flee. They hold the cup nonchalantly, turning it to read the sticker on the side, reciting the same name that just rose from the barista’s lips seconds ago. You face the stranger but again, your eyes are downward.
The blue loafers!
“Cute name,” he comments as he holds the cup out.
You once more try to take the cup but before you can, he has it out of reach again. Your lashes flick and your fingers twiddle helplessly. His large hand is firmly around the cup so even if you did try to wrestle it from him, you doubt you’d have any hope but to spill it all.
You look around but no one else seems to notice. They’re all staring at their phones or talking with the person next to them. The staff behind the counter are too busy appeasing the rush of orders.
“I’ve never tried one of these,” he taunts, “I’m more of a ristretto guy. Like my espresso.”
You shake your head and rescind your hand, balling it against your fist. What does he want? Why is he bothering you? You said thank you. Did he not hear you?
“Don’t get yourself in a tizzy,” he pushes the tea towards you, “there you are, sweat pea.”
You hesitate. You slowly unfurl your fingers and reach for the cup. As you wrap your fingers around it, you can’t help but brush his. Thick and strong and unmoving. He clings to it for just a moment before he lets you have it.
“Thanks,” you squeak again, this time louder so he certainly hears you.
“You got a sweet voice,” he puts his hand on his hip, a glimpse of a shiny gold watch face peeking out from beneath his sleeve, “I’d love to hear more of it.”
Your eyes round as you focus on the zipper of his thin jacket. You shake your head and meekly raise your cup awkwardly and dip your chin slightly. No thanks.
You turn and weave your way back through the crowd. Your heart is thumping in your chest. What an odd encounter.
More so, you’re dismayed that he saw you. That he noticed you. For years, you’ve done your best to be invisible. You prefer it that way. You don’t even think your neighbours know you exist. But that man, he seemed to see nothing but you.
You push outside and nearly drop your cup. You try to steady yourself. You’re all knotted up and tense. You tuck your phone into your back pocket and bring the cup before you nose, inhaling the sweet scent of the foam. Something about it isn’t as soothing as usual.
You turn down the pavement and wince as a sole scuffs close behind you. Suddenly, another set of steps walk next to yours, measured to keep in tandem with your own short legs. Blue velvet.
You walk faster. Is he following you? Why? What does he want? He’s much taller, you can’t outpace him.
“You know, when I said I’d like to hear more, I thought maybe over a coffee?” He suggests.
You don’t say a word as you keep your eyes forward, squeezing your cup tight as you try not to swish it around too much. You’ve never had to deal with this before. Men don’t see you. There was a time you hated that but since, you were grateful for that.
“I mean, I could do most of the talking, never had much of a trouble with that, jellybean,” he offers.
You shake your head. Your throat tightens. You can’t speak. You want to scream but you can’t make a noise.
As you get to the corner, you stop short. He steps past you but just as quickly catches himself and turns to face you. You gulp and look down at your cup. You can’t keep going. If you do, you’ll lead him right to your home.
“What’s going on, sweetheart? You forget something? How about we head back and I’ll buy you something sugary to go with that?”
You furrow your brow and step back on your heel. You bring your eyes up, a furtive glance at his face, brief and flickering. You just want to know what he looks like so you never see him again.
His blue eyes twinkle, his nose is long but proportioned to his chiseled face, his hair is combed back, the sides shaved, and a thick swatch of hair lines his upper lip. He’s older than you, you know that much, but you’ve never good at gauging age. You’ve never seen him before but you can’t be sure. You don’t look at many faces.
You pivot and cross the street without looking. You narrowly miss a bumper and get a honk in remonstrance. You can’t stop yourself. You’re panicking. You head down the next street as his footsteps follow. It’s all you can hear.
As you pass a bin, you dump the drink. You don’t pause as it plummets heavily into the trash and you fall into a brisk half-jog. You pump your arms, puffing wildly, dizzy as you search for a saviour.
You dash into the library. You don’t know what you’re looking for. Just for anyone to get this man to leave you alone.
You don’t look back as you enter and head straight for the front counter. You’re out of breath as you approach the rounded edge and tap the bell frantically. A woman emerges from behind the window wall and she greets you with a confused chime.
“Hello, can I help you?” She asks.
“Yes, I need...” you gulp and glance at the doors. You push away from the counter and spin, searching. You don’t see the man. He’s probably waiting outside. But you never looked back. You never really saw if he was following. “I...” you turn back to the woman, “never mind.”
You cross your arms and turn away. You cringe as you realise how ridiculous you must have seemed. Worse, you didn’t mean to bother someone just doing their job and over what? You’re own issues. You should go home, back to your reclusion, where you can’t be in anyone’s way.
👄
When you finally muster the courage to leave the library, your journey home is slowed by your paranoia. You have your phone out, held up so you can see over your shoulder with the front camera. You watch the screen more than the sidewalk ahead of you.
You get home without a second shadow. As you let yourself through the grated front door of the building, you can’t help but feel stupid. That man must’ve got the idea when you as good as ran in the other direction. You’re being dramatic.
You close the camera and put your phone away. You waist six dollars in your frantic flight. You mourn the tea latte as the heavy inner door clunks shut behind you. You drag your feet up the stairs as your keys jingle on your finger.
You apartment is at the very end of the hall. You enter and twist the latch. You slide the chain into place and hang the key ring on the little hook beside the door frame. You untangle your purse and leave it with your phone on the table in the corner.
You shuffle the few feet to the front room and look around. You find comfort in the familiarity of your little apartment. Your hideaway.
You go back to your desk and sign back in. You’re back later than usual but you can still make up the time. As long as there’s enough tasks left in the portal. You don’t have to let that man ruin your whole day. You’ll never see him again. In a few days, you won’t even remember him.
👄
Wednesday. Halfway through the week.
You scroll and click around your screen as you watch the clock in the corner tick on. Usually around this time, you’d be excited. You’d clock out for your break and go down to the cafe. As much as you looked forward to the treat, the walk alone was relaxing in its own way.
Not that day. Despite your efforts to shrug off the strange encounter, you haven’t shaken it. So instead, the kettle boils as a bag of earl gray sits in an empty mug. You’re not going. Maybe next week.
You’re a bit depressed but you’re too nervous to make the venture. Oh well, you’ll save a bit of money. You could find a different place next time. That might be easier.
You stay logged in and claim a new task. Hey, you can be done work earlier if you can power through. You might even make a few extra bucks.
The kettle clicks and you get up to pour the water. You leave it to steep, forgetting it for the screen before you. Your fingers tap endlessly across the keyboard, filling the silence as you zone in on the words, transcribing messy ink to Times New Roman.
Your trance is broken by a sudden buzz. You sit up, the kink in your neck pangs. You need to stop hunching. The buzz comes again. Is that... It must be a mistake. It happens now and then, someone buzzes the wrong apartment.
You get up as it sounds a third time and you shuffle down to the speaker box. You hit the button, “wrong number.”
“No--”
You let go of the number before you can hear the response. They buzz again. You sigh. You hit the button.
“I’m sorry but you have the wrong number,” you repeat.
“I don--”
You release the button again and take a step back. Buzz! You’re getting annoyed. You hit the button. “Wrong--”
“Got a delivery. 212.” The man’s voice drowns out your own, reciting your name after your apartment number. Your finger stays on the button as you frown. A delivery?
“I’m not expecting a delivery.”
“Are you...” he says your name again.
“... yes.”
Silence, filled with the low hum of the speaker, “so, can I come up or...?”
“Uh, I guess.”
You pull your finger away and hover it over the other. Maybe it’s from work? There was the one time they sent a cheap mass production travel mug with their logo on it as some incentive. A poor attempt at employee appreciation.
You press down and hold until you’re certain they have enough time to get in. You wait by the door, ringing your hands. You hear the door at the end of the hall open on its old hinges and you peek through the peephole.
You watch the fuzzy figure come into focus with each of his long steps. He doesn’t hold a box nor wear the uniform of a postal worker. No, he wears those blue leather loafers and holds a bright pink paper cup with a white lid. From the cafe.
As he comes close, you get a pigeon’s eye view of the hair on his upper lip and his bold blue eyes. It feels like he can see you too as he stands smirking on the other side of the door. This can’t be real.
He knocks and you wince as the door shifts in the frame.
“Special delivery,” he calls through, “open up, baby face.”
#lloyd hansen#dark lloyd hansen#dark!lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x reader#fic#dark fic#the quiet ones#dark!fic#series#the gray man
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hi!! Ik this isnt very cheerful for ur early request😭 but if u r doing headcannons can i request straykids w an s/o whoes insecure maybe about like acne?? 🫶
Bf!Skz when s/o is insecure about acne❣️
Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Bf!Skz x gn!reader
A/n: Sorry for the wait with this one my love i’ve been a bit busy but i hope you enjoy! Feedback, replies, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! To anyone who may be struggling with acne, skin issues/disorders etc know that your beauty grows from the inside. so don’t ever let something temporary define you. You are so loved. Thank you for being here. Sending big hugs to all who need it right now. 🫂❤️ ~Fae 🧚🏽♀️ (M.Lists)
(dm’s requests and taglist are open!!)
© Skzfairyyydreamz - Plagiarism is a crime. Do not repost, alter, translate or copy without my consent.
Chan
Channie is Definitely the “i know you better than you know yourself” kind of Bf so he notices everything about you. Especially when you aren’t happy with yourself.
Physically not being able to sit back and watch you look at yourself in the mirror with disgust; he walks over to you and pulls you away from the mirror.
“Stop that” “stop what?” you immediately respond trying to walk past him avoiding eye contact as if your mind wasn’t racing a mile a minute with negative thoughts about yourself.
quickly pulling you into a tight embrace “C’mere you know you can’t hide from me my love” he says in a soft whisper as he began pressing kisses to your head and the side of your face. You then realize there was no escaping this conversation.
“You are so, SO beautiful and you literally have no idea.” You hug him back burying your face into his chest as your eyes start to water still refusing to look him in the eyes. “but i don’t feel beautiful channie… my skin looks so nasty right now” “it doesn’t matter honey, it’s temporary. Acne comes and goes, its natural bc you’re a human. You’re MY human and a little breakout isn’t going to change the way that i love you or the amazing person that you are. so don’t let it change the way you feel about yourself.”
After a few moments of silence Finally lifting your head up to look at him properly for the first time that morning, you see a smirking chan as he takes his thumb wiping away your tears “oh if only you could see yourself through my eyes darling… ”
Lee Know
is also SUPER quick to notice when you’re judging yourself.
i definitely see Lee know being an aggressive lover so off the rip he is not having it if his s/o is feeling ugly and unhappy with themselves.
Will definitely force you to do self love affirmations.
Standing in the mirror together as he hugs you from behind “Chin up .. now repeat after me…”
on the days you really struggle he is patient but very firm with you bc he is such a loverboy and will NOT accept ANYONE speaking down on the love of his life , not even yourself.
“Go on jagi … say it. We’re not moving until you love yourself!”
Changbin
Soft binnie ofc is very understanding and will also reassure you.
will let you rant and complain about how you feel listening carefully without interrupting.
Will definitely kiss all your breakouts and blemishes.
“Dont worry baby give it 2 weeks tops you wont even remember it was here.”
constantly reminds you how beautiful you look at random times during the day.
“Acne is temporary but my love is forever” he aggressively covers your face in kisses as you fall into a fit of giggles.
Yes .. very cheesy in his true cute binnie fashion lols
Hyunjin
will spoil you ROTTEN to the core.
the very second you complain about the smallest breakout he’s already on the phone booking you facials and skin treatments at a luxury spa.
You come home from work to see a huge gift basket on the kitchen counter overflowing with expensive skincare products. Facial cleansers, serums, toners, oils, spf’s, moisturizers, you name it, its in there.
“Jinnie .. baby what is all this??” “if my honey wants clear skin, then thats what you’ll get” “i swear i don’t deserve you” you say with teary eyes
“wait wait dont cry yet i have something else for you” “HUH??” in confusion and disbelief you watch hyunjin run off and return with a canvas. He turns it around and its a painting of you with the most beautiful flowers blooming from your face in the exact same spots you began to breakout a few days prior.
Han
Another aggressive lover.
you start pouting to him about your skin and it somehow turns into a mini lecture.
“Jagi your acne is flaring up again bc you’ve been too stressed out. how may times do i have to ask you to leave that fuck ass job and just let me take care of you!? “But ji-” “And you stress eating all this junk food isn’t helping either!”
he’s definitely holding you accountable for eating cleaner and making sure you drink enough water throughout the day
And if you fail to do so he is definitely on your ass about it! 😂
Felix
Lix is very comforting when you come to him in actual tears the day before a red carpet fashion event you two were attending together. “lix i cant go like this, look at my fucking face??” “Hun it’s really not as bad as you think, i promise.” “it is lix! i dont know how to cover this up” you began to cry again “would you feel better if i called Maya to come give you a professional full glam for tomorrow?” he reassures you hugging you tight and rubbing your back while already reaching for his phone to text his makeup artist.
But he also disciplines you about talking bad about yourself.
He has this rule where you can only make one negative comment about yourself a day. And every time you break that rule he throws one of your beloved pocket mirrors away (you had a LOT and he knew that)
“ Ew why do i-” “ EH?!? what was that!?” he glared at you with a raised eyebrow. “Gimmie me!” “But lix wait- we’re in public i need to know how my skin looks!” “idc hand it over.. you look beautiful and since you cant be nice to yourself now you’ll just have to take my word for it.” he cut you off with his hand out.
accepting your defeat you sigh loudly closing the compact mirror putting it in his hand and pouting as he got up with a smirk walking away to throw your 5th mirror this week in the trash
Seungmin
much like seungmin you are very strong and independent, you keep your “burdens” to yourself trying not to complain too much or trouble anyone with your issues. Especially if you are insecure about them.
but minnie knows when you’re struggling.
he knows you get a bit agitated when you dont feel your best and thats when you begin to distance yourself a bit more.
His love language being acts of service he would do small things for like make you natural homemade remedies like his mom used to do for him anytime your skin would flare up real bad.
after getting out of the shower still pouty from a long grumpy day, “here” he hands you a spray bottle. “ What’s this min? ”
“Aloe vera face mask” he says simply giving you a kiss on the forehead and walking away not wanting to make you feel bad for bringing up something he knows you’re insecure about.
i.n
whenever you’re breaking out jeongin does everything he possibly can to keep his lover happy.
he will definitely help you create a WHOLE NEW skincare routine.
he’s working overtime researching different products and the ingredients that would work best with your skin type.
even tho you are not happy about your acne he thoroughly enjoys your new way of spending quality time together.
“you know you don’t have to make this an US thing, right? Your skin already looks great” “how about you mind your little business and pass me the toner” you try to hold back a laugh as your sassy boyfriend stared you down through the mirror of your shared bathroom.
buying and trying a ton of new skincare products together.
rating which ones you liked best and which ones didn’t work at all for you.
he will even book you an appointment to see a dermatologist if you need to and ofc he’s gonna be going with you!
Taglist: @hanniemylovelyquokka @milknhoneyracha @tinyelfperson @jiisungllvr @turtledove824 @laylasbunbunny
buy me a coffee?
#skzfairyyydreamz#skzfairyyy#skz#skz scenarios#stray kids scenarios#skz headcanons#stray kids headcanons#skz fluff#stray kids fluff#skz comfort#stray kids comfort#skz imagines#stray kids imagines#skz fic#stray kids fic#kpop fic#skz reactions#stray kids reactions#skz requests#stray kids requests#skz channie#skz lee know#skz changbin#skz hyunjin#skz han#stray kids felix#stray kids seungmin#stray kids i.n#felix fluff#chan fluff
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Hi! I’m new to your blog and have been loving all of your works!
If you’re comfortable with it, I was wondering how you think Astarion would react/feel about a virgin tav/reader who went through SA when they were younger, and wish to wait until they are both completely ready and comfortable with being intimate?
Hii, I can definitely do it, though i will merge it with another ask I received- asking to write hcs about Astarion learning Tav is a survivor.
I will say, making it with the hc has been a little easier on me, usually when i write about SA i spend an insane amount of time making sure i'm comfortable and you (readers) are as well, and i hesitate a lot before publishing it *(queue up scars and blood, that I wrote on an impulse after a nightmare, and it took me a solid week before publishing it)*
ANYWAYS.
ofc I hope this will be of comfort to you, and it won't trigger you.. sometimes all we want is to find solace into our favourite characters, so i wish tonight this will in a way comfort you...
and if anyone needs to vent, or talk, feel free to hit up my dm's, they are a safe space for anyone and i'll always offer up comfort.. we don't need to struggle alone, and sometimes being heard is what we need to make a new step forward<3
As always, my little stars, excercise kindness! we don't know who's gonna pass by this, and we don't know how hard it can be for them.
This being said, I hope you'll like it!
Headcanon: Astarion learning Tav is a survivor.
Pairing: Astarion x reader.
Warnings: mentions of past trauma and SA.
wc: 1.7k
-He starts suspecting something about it around the time of the tiefling party. He had offered to sneak out while everyone was asleep to "enjoy yourselves", but you refused right away. He definitely picked up some involuntary movement you did that told him there was more to the "I'm not ready". You probably flinched or jerked away, usually it would go unnoticed, but Astarion could recognize the subtle harshness hidden behind your reaction.
-He doesn't want to pry into it, as much as he needed to know as much as possible about you- he says for the sake of his undead skin- he wasn't entirely confident you trusted him enough to share your past. Also he wasn't sure he could handle someone confiding in him, but he would never admit it. At the end of the day, all he knew about social interaction were faint memories of his magistrate life, or means to survival. He simply wasn't sure he could have the empathy to deal with someone else's emotions, both in good and in bad.
-When you meet the gur, and you start peering into his past, he can't hide the very obvious rock in the shoe, Cazador and his spawn life, and it is because of the gur that you actually open up to him. When he starts going deeper and deeper into Cazador's orders to him and his repulsion towards sex, you do feel like you can share something so intimate, that's been heavy on you, well since it happened.
-The first time you mention it though, you are very blunt.
-"And honestly I don't know anything else besides disgust for it" He'd admit as he bit the inside of his cheek.
"I'm sorry, Astarion" You'd start, you wanted to hold his hand to comfort him, cause that kind of pain you knew. "I understand how you feel though. If you need—" He cut you short, anger was bubbling quickly in his stomach. You swore his face almost reddened in anger as he raised his voice.
"No, you don't" He was one sound shirt from hissing at you. "You cannot understand what it feels like" He'd sneer at you. "No one can understand what it feels like to be stripped of your bodily autonomy". In a way the harshness in his voice was like a slap to your face, cause you did in fact know. From the other, you didn't expect your brain to beeline directly towards that sealed drawer in your brain where you tried to hide the haunting memory.
“I went through it myself, you shithead” You got up, uncaring of whatever reaction he could have in that moment, and you just left.
-He was taken aback, on different levels, both because of your sudden shift in mood, because of the blunt reveal, and deep down because he was sorry, though again he’d never admit it out loud.
-You ignored him for the rest of the day, avoiding his stare and disappearing in your tent right after you were done setting camp, and that unsettled him so much that he was weighing the possibility of apologizing cause, of course, he didn’t know.
-You skipped dinner, and even when everyone else was asleep, you didn’t come out from your tent to take your usual nightly walk. The pang of guilt was becoming more like a stab as he saw the light in your tent still burning, and the faint shadow of you moving around restless.
-He prepared a peace offering, a bowl of the leftover stew, as he had to muster the guts to apologize.
-”Sorry, I was an asshole earlier, I brought you food” He blurted out right after he knocked on the wooden support of the tent, and he was surprised when you still let him in.
-Initially it was awkward, cause you were eating and not saying anything, but after a while he mustered up the courage to offer his shoulder to you. “If you even wish to talk” He’d say.
-You told him a bit of what happened, without going too much into detail, since you were still shaken from the memories that resurfaced.
-Since then he started to learn your boundaries: how to catch your attention without startling you, what were triggering topics for you, how you liked physical touch, and how it triggered you as well.
-In a way he becomes very protective of you, especially if you open up more often about your trauma, and you can see it.
-He made sure everyone respected your boundaries, whether it was Gale with his weave thing pulling you too close, or a stranger breathing on your neck, he was always ready to remind them of their place.
-”Don’t you see our dear captain doesn't want to be that close?!” “Keep your hands to yourself, they don't like being grabbed by the wrists” “Get away from her, before I stab you”
-He noticed how you always double checked the perimeter of the camp before the sun would set, and before getting in your tent you’d always look around in the distance, trying to spot if something was out of place. So he joined you in your routine, helping you check around and make sure you were ready in case anything could have happened.
-As you get closer, and you both open up more to each other, he even suggests he moves his tent closer to yours. “I can keep an eye around” Was his explanation, when he first brought it up.
-And it helped so much with your sleep, you felt a little safer.
-If you didn’t feel safe at night, he’d suggest putting your tents together into one. Maybe it was a way to keep you closer, or he needed reassurance, but he made sure you knew you could place your bedroll anywhere as far or as close to him as you liked.
-Eventually as your bond would deepen and deepen, and you’d grow fond of each other, you found yourselves rediscovering your touch together. It started with your fingers tapping on his arm as you were walking, or a strand of your hair being pulled behind your ear. Some nights you’d sit close in your tent, and would hold hands, caress each other’s cheeks, and slowly even reach out for a kiss or two.
-It was a slow process, where you really got to know each other like no one else ever did. You could read each other like a book, yet you never shied away from asking each other for consent for anything.
-”Can I hold your hand” “Can I kiss your cheek” “Can I rest my head on your chest”
-The thing you both struggled with the most, was falling asleep holding each other. You’d panic very quickly when you would feel your chest becoming tighter. He’d move away as quickly as possible, and give you the space you needed.
-When he confesses he has been falling for you, it’s time to approach the very delicate topic of sex. You opened up about the fact that you wanted to wait ‘till you were ready, and he agreed without hesitation. Of course because he understood where you came from, he never asked for any help either, if he’d feel like he needed some release, he’d disappear for a bit and deal with it himself, without making you feel like a burden.
“I just want to make sure we are on the same page on this” You’d say as you crossed your arms, almost as if you wanted to fold yourself in and away. “If you want to have sex, I can’t right now” You’d start saying, but stop on your tracks for a second. “Wait, not that I can’t. I don’t want to have sex at the moment” You’d correct yourself, confident in your statement, he wasn’t even thinking about it, though he respected completely.
“I get it, and it’s okay my love” He’d say, patting your shoulder, and wondering whether he wanted to hold your hand or kiss it, he wanted to let you know he truly understood. “I don’t want to either” He smiled, and in that moment it was like both you two finally breathed. You’d reach for his hand to hold it in yours.
“It’s not because of you though” You wanted to explain to him, you were so close it was something you were ready to share, especially since you were slowly walking towards a different level of intimacy together, he had to know. “I want to do it when we are both ready”
“I understand, my sweet, there’s no need for explanations” He’d smile again, one of his fangs slightly poked out against his lip. “You said you don’t want sex yet, so it’s no”
“I’m a virgin” You’d blurt out, and that was something he didn’t entirely expect.
“Oh” He’d say at first, but as he noticed your cheeks slowly warming up, he pulled you closer to him, his forehead against yours. “It’s okay, I don’t care about it” He’d exhale. “As long as it’s you, I don’t care about anything”
-When you reach Baldur’s Gate and finally you settle in the elfsong tavern, you made sure you always had a corner of time dedicated to helping each other relearn touch.
-You'd lay next to each other in different levels of nakedness depending on how you felt at the moment, and you'd spend your time tracing each other's features. Whenever you'd feel comfortable enough to venture into a new thing, he'd ask for permission.
-"Would you feel comfortable if I touched your hips?" "Can I trace your scars with my fingers?” “May I pull you closer?”
-You didn't fight time, you didn't rush towards sex. It came slowly and it was a process full of ups and downs. Some attempts ended up with you both sobbing, too overwhelmed. Other's ended up with panic attacks. Eventually though, after a lot of work together, you reached a point where you'd be able to make love.
-it was a very soft moment between you two. It involved a lot of comforting, kisses and patience, but it was something so profound, it wasn't only about shared pleasure, but it was about connecting your bodies and your souls. In a way it was like a wedding for you two it was the peak of trust you could have with each other.
-He'd whisper so many times how proud he was of you, how much he loved you, and how glad he was that you were the one that would spend their life with him.
-Tears eventually arrived, they were the tears of two souls that finally had reclaimed a bit of their freedom. It was the cries of someone that was finally healing.
#astarion#astarion ancunin#astarion x reader#bg3 astarion#astarion x tav#astarion bg3#tav x astarion#astarion x oc#oc x astarion#astarion x reader fluff#reader x astarion#bg3 x reader#bg3 x tav#bg3 x you#astarion romance#astarion headcanons#baldurs gate astarion#astarion angst#astarion baldurs gate#baldurs gate 3#astarion acunin#astarion brainrot#astarion my beloved#astarion x mc#astarion x you#asklynn☆: request#ask: lynn ☆
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Future Spouse: First Impressions Pt 1
Hello my dears! Here’s a little PAC I’ve been working on…. This is going to be a 2 part (possibly a third, 18+ post, depending on how well these do) series as this one became a lot longer than I intended it to lol. This one will be about your future spouse’s first impression of you. The next one will be your first impression of them. Please leave feedback 😁
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To book a reading with me, please DM or send an email to [email protected] with your inquiry 💌
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Here we go! Shake it out, take a breath, close your eyes, and choose one of my favorite movie couples that calls out most to you. This is a general reading, so take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you feel inclined to choose more than one group, please feel free to do so.
Pictures are from Pinterest, credit to the owners. Editing was done by me, Stitchy!
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Gomez & Morticia - Pile One
6 of cups reversed, Queen of Swords, Page of Pentacles
All right, pile one, welcome to your reading! You will strike your future spouse as a complex individual from the very first moment. You may have seemed a bit guarded and reserved, which made them immediately think “💡I need to see what’s past that guard”. Aw cute lol. Some of you have a femme fatale thing going on and some of you are incredibly private or reserved, so you give off this mysterious vibe to your FS. The energy is as if you were carrying a heavy emotional burden from your past experiences on your shoulder, which makes you seem hesitant to open up to someone new.
As you two start conversing, they notice that you may have an air of authority about you. You may even be a manger/boss. Could even own your business or attempting to at the point of meeting them. This is only for some of you, but I’m also seeing kids? So you may be a parent or work with kids often. Teenagers/middle school age, specifically. They will also notice that you are very clear and precise in the way you communicate, and you seemingly have a sharp mind and quick wit about you. You may talk with your hands a lot too. They can tell that you’re someone who values honesty and straightforwardness above all else, and you are not someone who would suffer fools gladly. Get it, boo! Show those suckers what you’re made of 😉 But there was also something very innocent and curious about you under the surface that they are going to be intrigued by. Despite your guarded nature and no-nonsense attitude…you still seemed eager to learn and grow. They like that you may be open to new experiences and perspectives. You may have even called them out playfully or wasn’t afraid to stand up to them when they said something out of pocket. They aren’t typically used to receiving that energy so you made them go a bit gaga (even turned on for some of you lol) with this display of power.
Im sensing that, for a lot of you at least, you guys may really gravitate towards each other when you first meet because it seems like they were able to get to know you better on a deeper level right off the bat. They see that your past experiences have indeed left a deep mark on you and that you may be struggling to move past them. You may even bring up an ex or family issues during your conversation? But They also see that you had the strength and resilience to face your pain head-on and work towards healing and growth. They have/had no doubt that you have the intelligence and determination to make progress. They were inspired by your willingness to learn and explore new ways of thinking. You inspire them to become a better version of themselves. They may be going through some personal issues of their own at the time and the way you tackle issues may differ from they way they would usually do it. But they prefer your outlook on life so they may get inspired to take a page out of your playbook.
By the end of your meeting, they were left with a deep respect for this complex and multifaceted individual standing before them. You may have had a guarded and stand offish first impression, but they could see that beneath the surface was a person with a strong will, an open mind, and the courage to face your past and move towards a brighter future….and they would do anything in their power to be apart of it. Aww I love that for you, pile one! I hope you enjoyed your reading.
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Adam & Barbara - Pile Two
4 of pentacles, Ace of swords reversed, 9 of cups
Hey pile two, thanks for joining! Upon first meeting, you left a deep impression on your future spouse. To them, you seem to have an air of wealth and luxury about you. You may be dressed in your finest clothes or rockin your most expensive jewelry. Lmaooo I just heard “they’re bangin!” Sooo they’re really going to like your body, pile 2! 😂 can't get enough of it, apparently! That night/day, you will just all around be dressed to the nines and that will catch your FS’s attention right away. They may have noticed you right away, but it’s going to take them a little time to approach you. So as they continue to examine you from afar, they could sense something underneath all of the pretty wrapping paper. They feel a sense of possessiveness emanating from you. Like you’re holding on too tightly to your material possessions. It’s like…though you’re dressed to kill, they catch on to your insecurities beneath the surface. They’re trying to get familiar with your poker tells, basically.
Oop. Ok….Your FS may think that you might be having an identity crisis. Not necessarily in a negative way (although it might be for some of you who chose this pile), but it is apparent to them. You may be the type of person that struggles with their decision-making abilities. You may even seem lost and unsure of yourself, even though you’re dressed confidently. Like you don’t really belong in that setting, but you’re trying to fake it until you make it for whatever reason. This lack of clarity may also hinder you from making better choices for yourself. What I’m getting is like a nightclub, bar, or busy restaurant setting (take what resonates). You may have a lot of suitors physically surrounding you before your FS gets to you, so they’re still watching you from afar. They may see someone flirting with you and you’re eating up the attention and they’re just thinking to themselves… “really? You’re impressed by *that*?” Lmao your future spouse cracks me up. They’re a cerebral person, that’s for sure. They take in their surroundings before doing anything.
To them, it seems as though you are trying to use your wealth or material possessions to fill a void within yourself. Your future spouse feels like you’re trying to find emotional fulfillment in all the wrong places. They may also think you may be hard to satisfy or please, but are still not entirely sure what you really want. They see that you are seeking happiness but are met with fleeting moments instead and may even have lost touch with your emotional well-being. But they’re thinking that you’re knock out gorgeous, so why are you so sad?
Overall, their first impression of you is that you are struggling to find true happiness and emotional fulfillment in your life. While you may have amassed great wealth, luxury, and success ( whatever that means to you), you still seem to be missing something important in your day to day. They may have a fleeting thought of “ could it be me that’s missing from this equation?” Aww cute 🥰 hope you enjoyed your reading, pile 2!
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Seymour & Audrey - Pile Three
4 of Pentacles, Queen of Cups, Knight of Pentacles reversed
Hello pile 3, ready for your reading? Your future spouse’s first impression of you would be one of complexity and depth. They would see in you someone who is highly guarded and may be struggling with a fear of financial insecurity. You may be going through some difficulty at the time of meeting your future spouse and you may wear your worry on your face. For some of you, they felt your energy before they laid eyes on you. You may have been in a whirlwind of panic or frustration, maybe even tripping over yourself a bit, and they picked up on it before you even entered the room. Fear not, they will think your dishevelment is rather adorable lol awww!
However, they would also sense a deep emotional intelligence and sensitivity in you, much like the Queen of Cups. They would think that you’re someone who is highly empathetic and in tune with your and other’s emotions, but you may also be very protective of your feelings and hesitant to fully open up to others. I see a lot of nervous chuckling happening when you’re around them. They may have approached you in a teasing manner and you reacted shyly and a bit embarrassed. That’s so adorable pile 3! But remember, you’re the prize…no need to be nervous 😉 oh, I’m getting that they really like your smile! They instantly see in you someone they can start a life/family with. There’s just something about you that tick off all their boxes.
Your FS will also feel that you may be resistant to change and may prefer to stick to a routine or maintain the status quo. They see you as the type of person who doesn’t want to step on any toes, even in detriment to yourself. They feel that you may be cautious when it comes to taking risks or trying new things, but this energy can also indicate a strong sense of dedication and a willingness to work hard and persevere. They see that you like things done a certain way so that’s how you’re going to do it.
Overall, their first impression of you would be that you’re a person with a complex and multi-layered personality. They would see someone who is both highly sensitive and guarded. They want to tear your walls down. Make you feel safe with them. Hmm…Your fear of financial security keeps coming up… like you fear financial instability, so you’ve married yourself to your work to never see your bank account dip lower than a certain amount. It may worry them a bit that you may not have room for a relationship (with them) in your life because of this. However, On the same note, they would also see someone who is dedicated and hard-working… Someone who has the potential to break through their blocks and achieve success and fulfillment in life. Your FS would be drawn to your emotional depth and dedication, and would be eager to help you navigate any challenges that may arise….they’re just hoping you’ll make a little bit of space for them in order to do that. Aw, congrats pile 3. That sounds sweet!!
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All rights reserved to @thestitchywitchy . Thank you for participating in this pick a card reading 😊 if you liked this reading and would like to dive in further, please DM me for a $7.77 extended reading 💞
#pac#pac reading#tarot pac#pick a card#pick an image#pick a pile#pick a pic#pick a picture#pick a number#tarot reading#free tarot#future spouse#future spouse pac#tarot#divination#pick a card readings#pick a deck#pick a photo#cartomancy
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emergency $15-20 portrait/icon commissions!!
hi i dont currently have a job right now and im struggling to work so i thought id open up commissions cause i really need it!
here are some examples of my work:
the price depends on how detailed you want the piece.
i dont have anything specific that i wont do but if i dont feel comfortable doing it then i wont.
ill take both paypal and venmo. if you’re interested please dm me!
#not to beg but please rb this#artist on tumblr#artist commissions#commissions#emergency commissions#helpp
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