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ivy-loves-chocolate · 3 years

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Note: I know I haven’t been very active lately, but until my next fic, have this :).

Therapy

Pairing: Ethan Winters x F!Reader.

Warnings: smut, blow job, cheating, masturbation.

Ethan was laying in the psychiatrist’s office on the same couch he has been sitting for the past few months. The last years on his life were hell. He didn’t get out in one piece after the Duvley incident, both physically and mentally. The constant moving, the military training, it was all too much for him to handle. His life took an upside down turn. Too add more to his suffering, his relationship with Mia became more and more distant. He constantly had a feeling that she was hiding something for him, but she won’t open up about it, facing a rough rejection whenever he tried to open the subject. Certain thoughts pushed him to seek help.

The psychiatrist finally showed up, pulling him out of his small meditation, and greeted him with her cheerful demeanor. A wide, bright, smile that captured his attention from the first session. Her kindness didn’t come unnoticed by the attention starved man. Session after session, he moved his attention to other parts of her body. He took an interest in her hands. Delicate fingers wrapped in rings, alongside with colorful manicure, He couldn’t remember when Mia was this feminine.

Despite his efforts, he finally let his gaze to fall on “forbidden” parts, specifically her cleavage. He would blush like a schoolgirl whenever his eyes would meet her perky breasts that were sticking out her blouse.

Maybe it was in his head, but after some time it followed the shy touches that invaded more and more his persona space. Ethan was pretty sure he didn’t need therapy, since the discussions broke the barrier of professionalism long ago, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to know if there were subtle hints, or just his imagination.

Ethan would go home then and continue his life. He would talk normally to Mia, eat, read, and do whatever he had scheduled, then take a shower and go to bed. The only thing that is different usually happens before closed door, behind the curtains of the shower. Hot steam and the sound of running water hides the moans of Ethan as he runs his calloused hand over his erect shaft, picturing his psychiatrist in action. His mind replace his own hand with the delicate touch of his doctor, her fingers going up and down squeezing every inch of his length. In that fog he tries to picture her in front of him, the water dripping slowly between her breasts, down her belly button, everywhere where he dreams to touch. He supports himself with one hand and the other increases the speed, his fantasies washing away as he release the tension.

It’s not like he was very sexually active before, so Mia didn’t notice the lack of attention from him. The meds she was taking didn’t make Mia more talkative. Ethan had to face the truth, his wife died in Louisiana. He would cast away these thoughts, and began to think of his doctor as a way to cope. Mia didn’t even care when he would jack off next to her some nights.

Since the therapy started to do more harm than good lately, he decided it was time for a break. Doctor y/n made her entrance as usual, with a confident posture, wide, bright smile, and her floral perfume that invaded the room. Ethan relaxed, as usual, every part of his soul just craving the sweet, sweet touch of his doctor one last time before he would call off their meetings.

“What’s wrong Ethan?” She noticed something was wearing him.

“It’s...Mia.” The doctor sat next to him, and slowly progressed closer and closer, making sure not to alert him.

“What happened, did you two fight again?” He didn’t noticed how close she was to him now, touching his leg with hers, feeling the warmth of her body.

He didn’t know what to say. Ethan knew he was lying, but it was too hard to break up with someone who he didn’t even date.

“Look at me.” She moved two delicate fingers to cup his chin so she can pull his face closer to her. It was in that moment he realized how closer they were, and he instantly panicked pulling away immediately.

“This, this is wrong.”

“Why is that?” She said as she was descending down on her knees, spreading his legs to make some space for her body.

With a shocked expression he watched as the woman who was now between his legs begged with her eyes for his consent. He allowed her to unzip him and unbuckle his belt, releasing his half erect shaft already, holding it in her hand. Ethan nodded.

“Chris told me to take care of you.” She moved her head forward, not breaking eyes contact, and took his wet tip between her lips. She swirled her tongue around the tip, tasting the man’s precum, and slowly she made her way down his length. His cock was getting harder in her mouth, exciting her more. Ethan was in the point he wasn’t able to form words anymore, and was struggling to hold his moans with on hand. The sight of his psychiatrist between his legs was something he never dreamed of happened in reality.

The doctor stopped her actions and slapped Ethan’s hand away from his mouth.

“I want to hear you sweetie. There is no one left except the two of us. Why do you think I placed out meetings so late.”

She went back at worshiping his cock, and Ethan was slowly building confidence. He suppressed his moans, being stuck in his throat, but the doctor had her ways. She decided to go a little harsh on him, so she suddenly took all his length in her mouth. When the tip hit the back of her throat, Ethan finally released the moans that the doctor was so desperate to hear.

She rested one hand on his lower abdomen, playing with his happy trail, while the other was worshiping his balls. A mix of saliva and cum started to drip down his shaft as she moved her mouth up and down,making it easier to play with his cock. Her hand cupped, squeezed and toyed with his balls while his cock was coating her throat with its salty leakage. Feeling his member throb, she pulled out, with saliva dripping down her chin.

“How bad do you want to cum, Mister Winters.” She said while her wide tongue was making its way to the tip. Silence.

“Our session ended long ago. I can let you leave and go back to your wife.” Another lick. Beads of precum appear as she moved her tongue to lick underneath the tip, not too fast, but enough to stimulate him.

“I-I want you...” It’s all he could said with his shaky voice.

She went to the couch and kneeled on the place next to him, while lifting her skirt to expose her cunt covered in black thongs and a pair of fragile pantyhose.

“Please Ethan...” She could’ve taken the lead, but she wanted to see if he had any dominant side.

He didn’t know what to do. It was the first time after a long period that a woman showed this much interest in him. Unsure, he pressed his thumbs over the wet spot, rubbed, but he wasn’t consistent with his movements.

“Just ripe them off already.” And she pushed backwards her hips a little to give the man some courage. Ethan tore the thin fabric with his fingers, then pulled her panties aside to see her core. It was perfect, dripping wet, swollen, all ready for him. His fingers got in with ease, and finally all her “come on Ethan” whispers stopped and were replaced with shy moans.

“Who’s shy now? C’mon, let me hear you.” He pressed his big thumb over her puffy clit and rubbed in circular motions, which made her very vocal. Meanwhile, knuckle deep inside, his fingers were making scissor like motions.

Ethan’s confidence increased with every moan. When she felt her walls contracting around his fingers, he pulled out and placed his cock at her entrance, which slipped in with ease. With a quick thrust he filled her up and began to pump in her without wasting a second. Wet sounds and claps filled the room whenever his ballsack would hit her cunt. She dig her nails into the couch as he was thrusting with his full length. Feeling her around him made Ethan realize how much he missed it. He was ecstatic, he allowed the pleasure to flow through his body. He tried his best to make it last longer, but his balls kept tightening, the pressure on his abdomen became unbearable, and with a moan he released his load deep inside her.

“I’m-“

“It’s alright Ethan.” The doctor raised to face Ethan, feeling his fresh, hot cum dripping down her thighs. He took his arms and placed them around her waist. After, she put her head on his shoulder, letting all her weight in his embrace. “Hold me like that.”

Ethan was dazed. He knew he had to go home, but he allowed himself to stay in that position a few more minutes.

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#resident evil #resident evil village #ethan winters #ethan winters x reader #smut #fic #masterlist 2

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nocturnalazura · 3 years

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Reassured You're Worth It

Todoroki Shoto x Virgin Fem!Reader

Minors do not interact.

Warnings| 18+, Loss of Virginity, multiple orgasms, Oral (fem receiving), fingering, minor over stimulation, unprotected sex, cream pie

All characters are aged up

Summary: You've always been a little unsure and nervous about finally losing your virginity, you're boyfriend always said that it was fine but sometimes you over think. So when you get into your own head he helps reassure you and you finally make a decision that you've thought about a few times before. (I suck at summaries)

Just a quick thank you to the anon that requested a first time with Todoroki! This was super fun to right and ended up being way longer than I meant it to be.

It’s a rare occurrence for you and Shoto to have a full night to yourselves. Normally one of you has something to do, you with piles of homework for school, or Shoto has to go off and save the city. So for the first time in what feels like and probably is months you two find solace in laying back on the couch together. Shoto rests on his back half watching whatever movie the two of you had previously chosen while he traces soft circles on your back while you rest on his chest not even attempting to act interested in the movie playing. You lost interest long ago as the couple on screen breaks up for some stupid reason that won’t matter in the end anyway. You already know that the movie will end with them getting back together and of course there will be the obligatory overly dramatic sex scene. You cringe inwardly at the thought of sitting through something that would set expectations to high.

Realistically you know that sex would never be like it was in the movies, but seeing little glimpses of it being so perfect always kind of got your hopes up that that’s what it would really be like. At twenty years old you know that the world doesn’t work the same way as the movies, and people always bitched about how sex scenes and porn were so over rated but you couldn’t help but wonder if they really were. Maybe your first time would be like the movies and everyone was just full of shit and didn’t want to tell you the truth. Or maybe people didn’t want to tell you because you were still a virgin in college and some people found that weird. Which honestly you still don’t get, who cares if you’re still a virgin, not everyone needs to have sex at a young age to have fun plus you wanted to do it with someone you trusted.

Shoto knew you were a virgin and simply stated that he didn’t mind not having sex he just wanted to be with you, but sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder if he would get tired of waiting. Other boyfriends were usually sick of waiting by now and tried pushing for more a few times before you finally broke it off. Shoto’s never brought it up or made any attempt to push you out of your comfort zone, he’s always been pretty respectful when your make out sessions get a little too hot for your liking. The thought of him being your first had crossed your mind more than once, you trust him, and feel comfortable with him. Would he want to? He’s never brought it up maybe because he’s not interested? Suddenly the fingers on your lower back turn ice cold.

“Shoto! What the hell oh my god stop!” You shriek and giggle as you attempt to wiggle away from the frozen fingers. Sitting up on his lap you look down at him only to see him softly smiling up at you.

“Sorry love, but I’ve been saying your name for about 5 minutes now. I could practically hear you thinking. What’s wrong?”

“It’s stupid don’t worry about it.”

“Nothing you think is stupid love now tell me or you won’t be able to stop thinking about it.” He whispers, pushing himself to sit up against the arm of the couch. Biting your lip softly he offers you his hand so you can play with his fingers as you work up the nerve to voice your problem.

“God it’s so stupid, but I just, are you tired of waiting?”

“Tired of waiting?”

“For me.” You whisper softly. When he raises a quizzical eyebrow at you, you swallow awkwardly and continue. “For uhm for sex.”

“Am I tired of waiting for sex?” He parrots back to you. When you nod he frowns slightly and pulls his hand away from yours and pushes himself to sit up fully. “Why do you think I’d be tired? I told you I don’t mind waiting, have I been pushing you? I didn’t mean to. We go at your pace. I'm sorry if I gave off anything but that.”

“Oh, oh Sho no that’s not what I meant at all. You’ve never pushed me to far, I just, god see I told you it was stupid.”

“It’s not. I want you to feel comfortable at all times. I told you, I really don’t mind waiting, I just want to be with you, so what brought this up?” He questions tilting his head and opening his arms for you to collapse into him.

“I don’t know, I see these stupid scenes and I over think, and just I don’t want you to be unhappy. Are you sure you don’t mind waiting?”

“Of course not my love. I want you to be comfortable. If you want to take that step with me one day then I’ll happily take the chance but if you don’t want to that’s fine as well. It’s about you, I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

Nodding you snuggle into his chest and let him resume rubbing soft circles into your skin with one hand while he mindlessly let you play with the finger on his other hand. Resting his head on top of yours as he goes back to half watching the movie. His reassurance in you and your decisions fills you with a sense of comfort and undying trust that you didn’t know you needed. Your body automatically relaxes into him as he turns slightly to press a soft kiss to your forehead before smiling softly against you.

The two of you continue to enjoy the rest of the night, switching to another movie later on. Filled with soft kisses and plenty of cuddles. When the movie ends Shoto turns so you’re tucked into his side and listens as you tell him how school has been going for you lately. He tells you about some of the less graphic and violent missions and villains he’s taken part in over the past couple weeks. The soft discussion of you finally moving into his apartment with him when your lease ends in a few months makes you both smile. As it gets later the two of you finally pop your comfortable bubble of happiness and finally head to bed. Getting washed up quickly you get into bed together.

“Good night.” Shoto softly whispers into your hair.

“Night Sho, love you.”

“Love you too.”

With that he pulls you just a little closer so his chest is completely pressed to your back. You let the feeling of his chest rising and falling against your back mixed with the soft little puffs of air that escape him relax you. You smile as his breathing evens out as he falls asleep. Your earlier conversation plays over and over in your mind, his instant concern for you and what you want fills your heart with nothing but love. Swallowing down the fear you have you slowly wiggle around in his arms to turn around and face him. His face is perfectly peaceful as he sleeps, you know you’d be making the right choice with him being your first.

However the last few times you’ve thought of finally taking that leap your own nerves got in the way. He’s proven to you over and over again that you can trust him with everything and his words from earlier prove to you once again that you can trust him. Taking a deep breath you finally make your decision. He’ll be staying the night with you again tomorrow and you’ll tell him you want him to be your first. Your body fills with nothing but excitement and nerves at the thought but you do your best to tame the thoughts and sleep.

Unfortunately sleep doesn’t take you right away and by the time you wake up Shoto is long gone. A small note on your bedside table lets you know that he should be home early as he only has some paperwork and meetings to attend to today. Smiling at the thought of him coming home before dark for once. Pulling yourself out of bed you get ready for the day before heading out to the living room to clean up the little mess the two you left behind the previous night.

Turning on some music you lose yourself to your cleaning as you dance around picking up and wiping everything clean. Before you know it the entire living room, kitchen and bathroom are spotless. Moving on to the bedroom you work on changing the bedding and throwing the other set in a basket to be put away later. Looking around you eye the chair settled in the corner of your room piled high with clean clothes. Sighing you decide to finally tackle the dreaded mountain. After what feels like years of putting away laundry you unceremoniously drop onto the bed to rest and scroll through your phone.

A shrill ding rings out as a message from Shoto pops up letting you know he’s done for the day and has picked up food on his way. Smiling, you hop up and head over to the dresser and pull out one of the shirts you’ve stolen from Shoto and a pair of shorts. Changing quickly you head out to the living room just as Shoto unlocks the door with a bag of take out in hand.

“Oh. I didn’t think you’d be here that quick.” You say happily surprised.

“Didn’t want to leave you waiting long so I waited to text you.” He says, smiling softly as you pad over to him taking the bag. Grabbing you before you have a chance to get away he gives you a soft kiss before heading to your room to change into comfortable clothing. “You did a lot while I was gone.”

“Hmm? Oh yeah. I kinda just got into it and kept going.”

“I would have helped you when I got back.” He says settling on the floor in front of the coffee table.

“I know but this gave me something to do while you were gone.” You mumble as you hand him his food.

He rolls his eyes at you with a small smile before grabbing the remote to pick something to watch. He settles on something neither one of you really cares about as you both dig into your food. You only half watch whatever plays as you pick at one another’s food and discuss what happened at his meetings. When the food is finished you two slowly begin to pay more attention to the show. You sit there on the floor together for quite awhile before finally deciding to head to bed. Before you can grab anything to put it away Shoto is pushing you onto the couch and doing it himself ignoring your protests.

“You cleaned all day. I can put away leftovers and take out the trash.” He says pressing a kiss to your forehead before going to take the trash out.

Sighing you settle on the couch and wait for him to come back. Taking a deep breath you decide that once he comes back you’ll finally tell him you’re ready. A small amount of nerves build up again at the thought of finally going that far. Shaking your head you get up and head to the bedroom and wait for him there. Jumping onto the bed you toss your phone onto the side table and settle face down on the bed. The sound of the front door opening and closing again alerts you to Shotos return but doesn’t prepare you for his weight to suddenly drop onto your body.

“Aghkh Sho!” You wheeze out as he lets himself rest on you. “Get off me you ass! You’re heavy!”

“Well now that’s rather rude of you to say. I don’t feel like moving for someone who insults me.”

“You’re literally all muscle! You’re gonna kill me!!” You squeal as he lets more of his weight drop. Laughing slightly he wraps an arm under you and flips the two of you over. Wiggling out from under his arm you sit up to flip yourself over to look down at him. “Rude.”

“You’re cute.”

“I know I am.” You smirk as you lean down to kiss him.

Shoto happily sighs as your lips slot perfectly against his. His hands carefully roam the tops of your thighs before creeping up the back of your shirt slowly.

“You look good in my clothes.”

“Mmm that’s why I wear them.”

Shaking his head he tangled a hand in your hair pulling you back down to him. It’s a familiar thing for the two of you, long drawn out make out sessions with a small mix of groping and grinding against one another until you finally reach the edge of your comfort zone. His hands roam over your body easily, memorizing every little detail they touch. Shoto grabs greedy handfuls of your ass as your mouths work together. His hands knead at the fat of your ass as he uses it as leverage to move you against him.

You both groan into the other's mouth as he pulls you to softly grind against him. You moan sweetly against him as you feel his cock stir beneath you. He lets out a soft grunt as you grind down a little harder on him. Pulling away from the kiss he lets his head rest against the pillows as he looks up at you with half lidded, his thumbs rub soft circles onto your hips as he watches you move against him. You keep your movement at a steady pace as you watch his face twitch and contort softly with every little grunt and groan he lets out. The feeling of his hardened cock pressing against you as you move against him has your already slightly dampened panties soaking uncomfortably quick as you think of what could possibly happen.

“Y/n, love tell me what you want.” He whispers up at you softly.

“I want you.”

“Want me to help get you off love?” He mutters leaning up to kiss your neck as he lets one of the hands on your hip slide down to the waistband of your shorts.

“Shoto, I um, I want want you.” Swallowing your nerves you continue “I’ve been thinking about it and I want it to be you.” You whisper softly leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I want you to be my first.”

Gnawing on your bottom lip, you finally sit up to look at him fully. A bright blush rests over his cheeks as he stares up at you with wide bi colored eyes. You watch as he swallows hard before finally nodding, seeming to have finally processed everything. Letting go of you he pushes himself up to rest against the headboard before bringing a hand up to your cheek and pulling you close again.

“You’ll tell me if you want to stop right?”

“Of course, I trust you Sho. You’ll um take the lead right?”

“If that’s what you’re more comfortable with of course.”

“Yes please.”

Giving you a quick nod he pulls you into a soft kiss before letting him slide back down the headboard to rest amongst the pillows with you on top of him. He lets his hands drift down to your ass again to coax you back into grinding against him. The two of you continue that way for a little while, simply kissing and nipping at one another. Groaning against you he wraps an arm around you tightly to quickly flip the two of you over. Sitting up on his knees he quickly pulls his shirt over his head smirking at the way your eyes rake over his toned torso. He fiddles with the hem of the shirt you're wearing waiting for your nod of approval before pulling it off to admire your naked torso. You fidget slightly under his gaze fighting off the temptation of covering your bare chest.

“God you’re beautiful.” He whispers leaning down to pepper soft kisses across your face before diving down to press harsher ones against your neck. His hands cautiously creep up your body to softly grope at your breasts. “You’re so soft and perfect love.”

You relax again at his words letting him touch you the way he pleases. A small moan escapes you as his thumbs toy with your nipples softly, fingers kneading into the plushness. Shoto lets out quiet hums of happiness at the feeling of finally being able to hold and touch you in all ways. He carefully begins to work his way down from your neck, pressing little kisses against your skin. He nips softly at the soft skin of your breast peeking up at you through his hair before moving slightly to allow his teeth to graze your already sensitive nipple before carefully letting his lips wrap around it. He softly laps and sucks at it, switching to the other when you arch your back pressing him further into your chest.

“Sho, keep going please.” You whine tugging at his hair.”

Humming against you he starts moving again, leaving little kisses against the soft skin of your belly until he reaches the waistband of your shorts. He kisses along the edge before lifting his head to look up at you as if asking permission to continue. When you give him a small nod he wraps his fingers around it gently before tugging your shorts and panties down in one go leaving you completely bare to him. You can’t help the nerves that suddenly swell up inside of you as you clench your legs together in a small attempt to hide.

“Please don’t hide from me love, you’re perfect.” Whispers Shoto running his hands along your sides in an attempt to ease your nerves. “We can stop if you’re not ready.”

“Sorry, just a little nervous.” You whisper, taking in a deep breath you let your legs relax. “Keep going, I trust you.”

Smiling at you sweetly he moves to spread your legs and settles himself in between them. He’s touched you before but having him this close to your soaked center is oddly nerve wracking. Soft hands rub against the tops of your thighs before pushing your legs just a little further apart. Once settled he uses his thumbs to gently spread your lips apart to look at your clenching little hole. Shifting slightly you throw an arm over your eyes to avoid looking down at him until you feel it.

You let out a surprised moan as Shoto licks a strip up your soaked little pussy. He eagerly groans into your core as he continues to let his tongue explore as you moan and tug at his hair. His nose softly bumps and rubs against your clit as he eagerly licks into you, letting his tongue explore you and happily letting your taste coat his mouth. Moving up he sucks softly on your clit as he slowly circles a finger around your entrance coating it in your slick. Moving your arm you finally look down only to be met with Shoto’s hazy lust filled gaze as he sucks at your clit and carefully works a singular finger into you.

“Oooh Shoto!” You moan out tugging at his hair as he groans heavily against your clit.

His eyes gaze up to your through a lust filled haze as he slowly pumps his finger in you as he lets his tongue lap at your clit. Popping off your clit he speeds up the pace of his finger and changes his position to lean over you as he watches your face for any kind of discomfort. Twisting his wrist ever so slightly he finally hits the little spot inside of that leaves you moaning freely. Carefully he eases in a second finger slowing the pace down and letting you get used to the stretch. When your mouth drops open with a low moan of his name he picks the pace back up, letting the pads of his fingers press against that spongy spot inside of you.

“You’re so good for me my love. Look how perfect you are.” He groans out as he feels your walls clamp around him sporadically. “Your pussy is so pretty baby, look how cute it looks wrapped around my fingers.”

You rock your hips up into his hand, looking up at him with little tears dotting the corners of your eyes. Licking at his bottom lip he drops back down between your thighs letting his tongue play with your sensitive little clit. Your hips shift around relentlessly at the stimulation until he throws his free arm over you to hold you in place as he pressed his fingers into you faster.

“Shoto! M’gonna cum.” You squeal as he licks and sucks at your clit harder pulling you closer to your end. FInally he presses a third finger in officially pushing you over the edge at the added stretch and pressure.

“That’s it love, cum for me.” He grunts out as he eases you through your orgasm. He carefully pulls his finger free of your spasming walls before leaning down to lick a long strip up your slit. Shoto eagerly licks at slick the drips from you, softly pushing your legs open as they threaten to close around him.

He lets you whine and tug at his hair as he digs his tongue into your now drenched and stretched little hole. He shoves his face into your center letting his nose rub against your now sensitive clit as he licks into you groaning as he ruts against the bed as the taste of you spreads throughout his mouth. Grunting into he switches between licking at your clit and pressing his tongue as far into your spasming walls as he can. The feeling quickly begins to overstimulate you as he smothers himself in your pussy. Your hands scramble to push him away as he goes back to focusing on your clit again as the feeling of another orgasm quickly creeps up on you.

“Sho! Too much!” You cry out as he sends you crashing over the edge again. Finally you manage to push him off of you as your legs shake around him with tears running down your face from the over stimulation.

“Fuck, sorry love.” He says breathing heavily. He quickly wipes your juices from the bottom half of his face with the back of his hand before moving up to lean down and kiss you softly. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long. You okay?”

“Uh huh” you mumble through a head filled with a lovely pleasure haze.

“Do you wanna stop here?” He questions pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“No, I really want to keep going please. I wanna know what it feels like to have you in me please.” You whisper blinking the haze away.

“Yeah? Ok, fuck we can do that.” Swallowing thickly he gives you another quick kiss before pushing the rest of his clothes off quickly. You watch with wide eyes as his hard cock slaps up against his lower abs. “You can say no still at any point ok?”

“I know.” You whisper as you pull him back down to you for a long drawn out kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He mumbles against your lips. He settles himself over you, one arm holding himself up while the other reaches down to tease the blunt head of his cock against your soaked entrance. “Ready?”

“Mmhmm” You hum out quietly leaning up to kiss him softly again.

Licking his lips Shoto watches you closely as he slowly works on pushing into you. He offers a small chorus of praises as your face scrunches up at the slight stinging the unfamiliar stretch causes. The arm not holding him up quickly comes up to tangle your fingers together as he finally bottoms out within you. He leans down bringing you into a soft kiss as he stills, letting you adjust to the new feeling.

“You’re doing so good love. Feel so good already.” he mutters against your cheek, squeezing your hand tightly. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

Nodding softly you let your face relax as you take in a deep breath. Suddenly you're very thankful for his earlier prep and over stimulation as the small sting still rings throughout your body lightly. Peeling your eyes open you look up at Shoto, admiring the way his hair falls around his face. When he takes note of you looking up at you he smiles softly and kisses you. He rests his forehead against yours.

“Move Shoto.” You whisper softly, squeezing his hand.

Sucking in a harsh breath he slowly eases his hips back only leaving the tip in before pushing back in just as slowly still giving you plenty of time to adjust. When given no indications of unease, he builds a slow pace letting you feel every inch of him as he pushes into you. Slowly he feels your body relax against him as he rolls his hips into yours. His own body relaxes slightly when your mouth falls open and softly little moans finally begin to spill from it.

“Mmm Shoto, feels good.”

“Yeah? Fuck, you feel amazing love.” Shoto says grunting softly into your neck. He lets out a low moan when you shift your hips to wrap your legs around his waist successfully pulling him deeper into you. “Shit, it’s like you were made for me.”

“Faster Sho. Please.”

Biting into your neck softly he works his hips faster into yours groaning when you begin to roll your hips to match his pace.

“That’s it, good job baby. So good for me baby girl”

The two of you build a comfortable rhythm as the soft rhythmic sound of skin slapping together mixed with your soft moans and his grunts fills the room. With every thrust his cock kisses at your cervix filling you to the brim. The veins that litter his cock rub at all of the little sensitive spots within that up until this point had never been touched. Letting go of your hand he pushes his free hand underneath you pulling you closer to him.

Your eyes roll back as the angle is slightly changed and his tip rubs effortless against that little spongy spot with every single thrust. You bring your arms up to wrap around Shoto’s shoulders to claw at his back. You feel your cheeks flush as you look up to see Shoto watching every little move you make, from the fucked out little faces to the way your breasts bounce as he fucks you. His pupils are blown as his face is drowned in lust from watching you. He grunts heavily when your walls eagerly clench around his cock.

“Love you so much baby, so fuckin’ perfect and tight around my cock.” He states with a particularly hard thrust.

“Love you too Sho, feels good.” you moan eagerly pulling him down and into a sloppy open mouthed kiss. “Shoto! Wanna cum.” you moan into his mouth.

Nodding with a quiet grunt he pulls his arm out from underneath you to push it between the two of you. He fumbles around for a second as you clench around him again before regaining his composure and rubbing tight circles against your clit. As the added stimulation courses through your body your mouth drops open allowing soft pants and moans of his name to fall freely from your mouth. Finally he pushes you closer and closer to the edge of your third orgasm as he slowly speeds his thrusts up just a little more. Your legs tighten around his waist pulling him even closer as your walls spasm around him helplessly.

You look up at him, letting a warbled chorus of his name fall from your parted lips as you push your hips harder into his. Nails bite into his shoulders as a final hard thrust pushes you over the edge.

“S-s-shoto.” You whimper out pathetically as you come crashing over the edge. Your head tipped back into the pillows as your pussy creamed around him, walls spasming in attempt to milk him. “ Sho! F-fuck Sho.”

“Shit, shit that’s it baby, fuck good girl.” He groans above you rolling his hips a little slower to help work you through your orgasm. The feeling of your velvety walls clenching around him forces him closer to his own end. “Fuck ok baby, ‘m gonna cum, shit where should I?”

“In! Please Sho wanna feel it in me.”

“Fuck. Y/N fuck, shit.” He grunts into your neck as a shudder rocks through his body just as he pushes all the way to the hilt and begins to fill you. The tip of his cock presses snuggly up against your cervix as hot spurts of cum fill you. His hips give a few half assed thrusts as he finally stills above you, breathing heavily he lowers himself to rest on top of you still holding up the majority of his weight in an attempt to not crush you. “Baby, you okay?”

“Uh huh, I’m I’m ok.” you whisper, eyes closed as you attempt to regulate your breathing.

Pushing himself up just high enough to look down at you, carefully he brings a hand up to push a few stray strands of hair out of your face. Your eyes flutter open slowly only to be met with Shoto’s slightly concerned face.

“Are you sure you’re ok love?” he questions caressing your cheek softly.

“Yeah I’m sure, I feel good.” You say offering him a small pleased smile before turning your head to kiss his palm softly.

“Good.” He whispers leaning down to kiss you softly. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, it was perfect. I made the right decision.” You whisper pulling him back into a kiss. When you drop back to the bed you look up at him with slightly tired eyes.

“C’mon lets get you cleaned up so we can go to bed.”

He slowly pulls his now softened cock out of you watching as his cum slowly drips out of your abused little hole. You whimper quietly at the now empty feeling. Shoto presses a soft kiss to your forehead and a mumbled “sorry”. Getting off the bed he quickly pulls on his previously discarded sweats and heads to the bathroom. He comes back with warm wet cloth, climbing back on the bed he carefully works on cleaning up the mess between your legs and tossing the cloth into the nearby laundry basket. Grabbing the shirt he was wearing earlier he helps you sit up and slips it over your head.

“Need anything?”

“Cuddles?”

“Of course.” He says laughing softly. He quickly switches off the lights before laying down and opening his arms for you to curl into his chest. Once you settle he wraps an arm around you and presses a kiss to your forehead and offers you a hand so you can play with his fingers. “So worth the wait?”

“Oh yeah definitely. What do you think, was I worth the wait?”

“You are beyond perfect my love. I’d wait a thousand years to be with you.”

“Mmm that was so cheesy Sho.”

“I know, but it’s true. I love you Y/n”

“Love you too Shoto.” You mumble out.

The soft rhythmic beating of his heart lulls you to sleep. As your breathing evens out Shoto can’t help but smile down at you passed out against his chest. Everything around the two of you just feels right at this moment. Even when you would wake up the next morning with a soft ache between your legs you’d kiss him happily and say it was worth it.

#mha smut #mha x y/n #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto #mha todoroki #todoroki shoto smut #todoroki x y/n #bnha todoroki #todoroki smut #bnha shoto todoroki #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto x reader #bnhacity

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skelanonymous · 3 years

Text

Killermare/Nightkiller - Soul Mates

Hey! I finished the prompt person who made a request like a month ago! I literally do not want to even look at this anymore. I’ve been picking away at it all month between shifts and breaks and I’m beginning to hate it by virtue of seeing it too much.

The beginning has been edited and now has some nsfw soul-mating and some after effect scenes!

Words: 6.1K

“Are you sure you want this? With me?” Nightmare wouldn’t meet Killer’s eyes. He stood in front of one of his room’s many arched windows, moonlight shimmering over his blackened form. His tentacles had curled in on him, arms crossed, an uncharacteristic sign of vulnerability that Killer had only seen inside of this room.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Killer, too, let his eternally present grin fall. This matter meant too much, and Nightmare’s insecurity fell heavily on him, on them.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I have an idea, but I want to hear the specifics. ‘s important.” Killer crossed his own arms to match, to hold back the urge to touch his moon until he finished his thoughts.

“Soul mating is to share all that you are with another.” Nightmare turned to face out over the darkened wilds his castle oversaw. “It’s to be unified on every level and live as one until we cease to be. I am not afraid of being unified with you myself; I have centuries of existence and a power to shake the multiverse, and while I’m certain that I will be affected by you, as I am even now when we’re separate, I am also sure of my ability to handle it as I have everything else.”

“It’s me you don’t trust to deal.” Killer sighed, frown downturning further. Nightmare whirled around in an instant.

“I trust you with my life Killer.” He hurried across the room to hold his beloved’s face, a concerned eye looking into Killer’s, begging him to understand. “I would not humor this for anyone else, I would not want this with anyone else. To be joined with you is a dream I wish for. But…” His thumbs wiped away the streaks of liquid hate on Killer’s face. “To be joined to me is my namesake. You will know misery on a level you have never known.”

Killer reached up to hold Nightmare’s hands. He smiled with a short laugh.

“I think I’ve known some pretty deep fucking misery Night.” Killer let go to reach out for Nightmare’s jacket, pulling him closer. “I’m not fragile. You worry too much. ‘Sleeping near me might give you nightmares’ and ‘if I lose control during sex, I could hurt you’ and, my favorite, ‘I am the guardian of negativity, I cannot love you back.’ Yet we’re here.” He took a nice deep breath, sinking into the comfort that was Nightmare pressed to his chest. Nightmare’s fingers clutched at his back.

“Not like this Killer, never like this.” Cyan tears welled up, hands vice gripped onto his hoodie. “I am not minimizing your suffering, I have felt it firsthand, but mine is long and continuous. It bores into your soul and lives there. You mention that I have always worried and you have overcome, but yet, I still worry. Negativity is at the root of me.”

His tentacles reached out like more arms. The fear was palpable, flavoring the air and thick on their tongues. Nightmare could never forsake what he was. He could not undo what had been done.

“And to join you with that? I’m afraid of what this could do to you. Will you gain my corruption? Will I lose you like I lost myself for all those years? How much of you must be traded for us to experience this pinnacle of connection?” Night’s words flooded from his mouth, crying bitterly at the thought of turning Killer away, all for his sake. “Every single thing others can have, I must first pay a cost. To just exist without punishment cost my life, my home, my family. And even then, I did not escape punishment, I merely gained the ability to fight back!”

“Nightlight…look at me.” And he listened. Killer tapped his teeth to his.

“Killer…” Nightmare tapped back, kissing him deeply with wet cheeks. The tension of the room could be cut with a knife, Killer could feel it in the line of Night’s back, and he knew how to work that out. When they broke apart, Killer didn’t move back an inch.

“Remember when you confessed?” His voice rough and heavy against Night’s teeth, Killer’s eyes went half lidded. “You looked so shocked, like you couldn’t believe it.”

“I still don’t.” Nightmare’s voice dropped low, shaky but wanting.

“Moon, are you happy, being with me?” Night’s tentacles clutched him tight, Nightmare pressing up tight to him with another kiss, their faces still millimeters apart.

“Of course. Idiot...” His eye glanced wistfully at the bookshelves on the wall, expression serious and hesitant. Killer chuckled softly at the worry. He wiped his god’s tears away.

“Then why couldn’t I be happy joined with you?” Night’s body sparked with magic underneath his fingertips. “If even the god of negativity can be happy with the one he loves, why couldn’t I do the same with a piece of him living in my soul?” Killer licked his teeth, tongue touching his moon’s at this distance, groaning at the catch in Nightmare’s breath.

“You could.”

Killer crushed Night up against him, the smaller hands fisting in the loose blue hoodie in their passion. Kissing Nightmare always got his motor running. His dark tentacles sought out every surface to lavish attention on Killer’s body, three times the stimulation of any other partner and a hell of a lot more interesting.

“Let me have ya then.” His pointer finger slid down the black cheek, catching softly on his jaw, over his sensitive throat, and leaving a hot trail of need down his sternum before halting. Right over Night’s soul. “Mate with me Moon.”

Night reached out slowly for Killer’s soul, always within reach but rarely so bright, tapping the surface with a fond smile. Killer felt the weight of his words resonate across his being.

“Promise I won’t lose you?” Killer grinned widely.

“Promise.” The tenseness dropped from Night’s back, arms slung around Killer’s shoulders with a more confident look.

“Then take me Killer.”

Killer had a slight height advantage, but Night made up for it with vigor. The black fingers pulled at the hoodie, growling when Killer laughed at him for its slow removal.

“My soul’s not inside my ribcage Moonlight. Did ya forget?” He chuckled until Nightmare pulled their faces together again, groaning into Night’s mouth, tasting and teasing the cyan tongue until he felt Night’s fingers loosen. He took the opportunity to run a phalange up from Night’s back to his sternum, tracing a rib. Night broke off to shiver.

“Are you trying to rush?” Nightmare traced the outer edge of the target shaped soul. It snapped into a heart shape for the second go around. “There you are.”

“I just like when ya touch me.” Killer winked, grinding up against Night’s pelvis. Night bucked against the bulge in front of him. He kept rubbing the tiny heart in his hands while Killer nuzzled into his throat to nip and lick at the sensitive vertebrae there. “Fucking delicious. Can’t wait to have ya.” Killer took a deep breath in, lost in the scent of Nightmare.

Night didn’t respond, only kissed the soul in his hands, trying to impart what he couldn’t say. I’m the lucky one. That you want me, it matters more than anything else.

Killer’s mouth licked haphazardly. The warm buzz of emotion from Night seeped into his body, unfurling the little anxieties building in the peripheral of their relationship. Killer put on a grandiose show, playing the part of the cocky bastard to his moon’s calm stoic, but Nightmare very rarely opened up this far. His moon cried less than Killer had fingers on one hand. He spoke seldomly about the past in anything but factual recounts. The fact he’d been so honest, that he could feel that pure emotion through the contact, put him in a drunken euphoria.

“Moooooon, you’re wearing too many clothes.” He pushed the hoodie off Night’s shoulders, caught on his elbows. “Come to the bed.” Killer slid his hands up to hold Night’s hands, soul dropped and returned to its place.

Killer led him towards the bed, but let him go with a sly grin. He stripped off his shirt with a twirl, revealing his ribs with hungry eyes, dropping his shorts in the next moment to persuade his love to do the same.

“Eager, are you?” Nightmare’s voice betrayed nothing, but the slow shrug off of his sweater spoke volumes.

“Already missing that touch of yours.” He gestured to his soul. “I could get off from just that.”

A peace offering, a way to back out, to build to this piece by piece. Night stepped closer to his love leaned back on the bed.

With a determined eye, he skimmed over the bulge of Killer’s cock, meeting Killer’s captivated gaze with ferocity. He only broke it to remove his suffocating shirt.

“Ignoring my needs? What type of mate do you plan to be?” Killer’s eyelights popped into existence while Nightmare seated himself on his lap. “I thought you said you’d never disappoint me…” He almost fell off when Killer sat up to meet him, smashing their teeth together.

Killer dove in, not leaving room for Nightmare to fight back, overwhelming his small lover with how much he could explore with his eyes closed. They were both pantless by the time Nightmare’s senses returned, breathless but alive with energy.

“If you’re feeling needy, we’ll focus on you then.” Nightmare had no ecto formed yet, Killer instead reaching up into his chest for the dark apple soul he’d never been allowed to touch. His hand hesitated before tapping the blackened surface. “Last chance Nightmare.” And when all he got was silence, he took it out and held it up to his face.

Unlike his own soul, the black apple sat calmly in his hand. It had little give, the dark peel a thin barrier to protect it from the outside world, everlasting and unbroken until this very moment.

“Didn’t expect that.” Killer ran his thumbs over the surface, testing the limits of the shell and Night in one swoop. His moon sat unaffected except by a blush.

“I’m sorry it’s not what you expected.” He could read Night’s hesitation in his body language, but not from the soul seated in his hands, its aura as calm on the exterior as its owner. He wanted in. Killer gently bit down on the apple, not wanting to go clean through, but maybe create a little breach. When Night didn’t react, he bit down harder. His ectobody formed instantly, boosting him up on Killer’s lap.

“OooooooH!” He broke the skin, a small cut through the outer barrier. Night hadn’t ripped it away yet, so Killer turned it over until he could work his tongue into the hole.

“KiLLeR.” Night’s thighs tightened on his legs, hips bucking down wantonly while his cyan tongue lolled out of his mouth. Killer kept working and tasting, getting deeper and deeper into the soul. “STARS, Killer, please. Fuck me!”

Tentacles curled up every limb stroking and teasing. They sought out Killer like a moth to the flame, knowing who was pleasing their master, eager to return the favor. Killer appreciated their caress, but focused in on the torrent of emotion pouring into his mouth from the apple. Night’s composure seldom broke outside of the bedroom, and even here, he was not driven to utmost debauchery, often just more openly honest about his desires. Licking directly into his core, Killer could taste how much Night was holding back. He sucked out some of the wet flavor with a slurp.

“God ya want this so bad. Good, me too.” Killer worked two fingers into the break to Night’s wrecked gasps. “My soul can’t fit in here love. Gunna have to make room for me inside ya.”

“I need you inside me, right now.” Night’s tentacles readjusted them quickly for his red cock to slide up and down Night’s already wet folds. “I love you, connect with me, I’ve got so much room for you…” Killer heard the wet squelch of Night stretching himself open with a tentacle in preparation, making his cock twitch in anticipation. He forced his tongue in around the three fingers he’d worked into Night’s soul. His reward was instantaneous.

“AAH!” Night’s knees knocked on his waist, his eye wide and hazy, which Killer took advantage of by pulling Night further onto him and starting to sink into his soaked pussy along with the slicked tentacle still stuffed inside.

“Oh FUCK!” Night’s cyan eye rolled into his skull, trembling apart at the seams. “T-they fit?”

“They sure do.” Killer pulled his soul up to the opening in Night’s. “You ready for the second squeeze?” He flexed his hips making Nightmare scream.

“Stuff me full Killer, hah, please!”

With a gentle push, his soul tapped against the inside of Night’s, the opening worked large enough for the entire thing to fit along it on one side. He watched fascinated. Normal soulmating, you could hold two souls together and they’d combine, no work required but the desire to do so, but he had to try at getting his moon open enough to reach the savory core. They sat against each other for an instant, Killer anxious if he’d gone about it wrong and Night if he could even do this at all, before Killer’s entire soul slid directly inside, combining them in a flash of color.

The red apple hung between them pleasantly. Killer’s eyelights glowed bright as Night’s went deep purple.

“Moon?” The words echoed in his mind, though it felt like he spoke them. He didn’t need to say anything, Night was him and he was Night, but his sudden desire to hear Nightmare overrode logic.

“My darling soul.” Hands rested on his face. Night’s locked eyes with his, faces moving closer, but even an inch felt too far. It was slow deliberate love, that first kiss, the taste of their soulmate for the very first time.

But then Night shifted to get a little closer and the thickness inside him sparked the desire.

That spark quickly caught, burning through both of them with the intensity of sun, each thought echoing between their souls, escalating to a constant hum that drowned out the rest. Night slid forward to take Killer and his own appendage to the hilt. Killer moaned loudly before pulling Night up to his chest with a desperate kiss. He could barely get out any words.

“I love you.” It slurred from his teeth, feeling the tentacle inside of Night curl around his cock to make it stretch out Night wider. “You’ve got my soul inside yours, ya shouldn’t mind if I fill ya with my cum right?” He thrusted experimentally; Night wailed and slid down to meet his hips. His purple blush complimented the wrecked expression, staring into Killer’s eyes like a lifeline, before nodding with a broken moan. “Fuck you’re perfect.”

He started slow. Night winced at the end of the thrusts and Killer wasn’t so far gone as to not notice; to the contrary, he had never been more aware of his moon. The sound of his voice breaking on Killer’s name a symphony, the taste of his love’s tongue a banquet, all his senses awakened at the sight of his gorgeous soulmate. And through the bond, he could feel Night’s agreement.

“Please, please, please!” Oversensitive and at the emotional limit, Killer could feel his peak rapidly approaching, speeding up to slam into Night, clapping their ecto together between lewd pants and groans. He dropped his sweaty head against Night’s shoulder.

“God Night, come for me!” Night’s pussy clamped down tight with his orgasm. Killer rode it to his own finish.

“Fuck!”

He slow thrusted through it, filling up Night with his red magic, sliding against each other with pleasant bonelessness. They fell back onto the bed in their embrace.

“Killer…”Night’s head rested on his chest, one hand rubbing over where he could see Killer’s cum inside himself. Killer felt tears drip onto his ribcage.

“Nightlight?” He cradled Night’s head. He held him tight, Night nuzzling his chest with the rarest of expressions.

“Thank you.” The genuine smile, soft and sweet, hit Killer right in their combined souls, overcome with their combined joy. He had it so bad. They readjusted to separate, sharing soft continuous kisses, settling into the blankets with unmatched contentment.

“We look pretty good together.” He stroked a finger over the red apple, both trembling with a soft sigh. “Can’t get rid of me now. No take-backs.”

“I can think of no better partner for eternity.” And that deep honesty flustered Killer. He hoped he’d get to see more of this side of his beloved moon now that they were one. Being one in all forms had unlocked more of himself than had existed before, parts he would adopt from Night starting to click in as extensions of his soul. Something dark ate at the back of Killer’s mind, but combined like this, it was held at bay effortlessly by Night’s calm thoughts and breathing.

“Let’s get some rest Nightlight. We have the rest of our lives tomorrow.” He pulled up a sheet to cover them, and placed one last kiss on Night’s teeth.

“That we do.” With their combined souls hanging between them, they slipped in restful sleep.

Killer woke up late. Looking around, he realized he’d been moved from Night’s bedroom to the study. He sat up (appropriately though not fully dressed) on the lounge that Nightmare had scooted closer to his desk.

“Good afternoon. How are you feeling?” Killer felt strangely apprehensive before realizing that the feeling wasn’t centered in his body. The immediacy lessoned the longer he thought about it, though the intensity of that wariness kept ratcheting up while he tried to speak.

“Is that you?” The sudden break in relief caused emotional whiplash and a spike of discomfort.

“Yes. My apologies, I wasn’t reigning in my reactions.” The normal calm came back, with a background fluttering of too many emotions to name. “It should be more manageable now.”

“Wow, I must be bothering the fuck outta you.” He laughed at the tinges of worry, indignation, and relief in turn. A glance at his own chest revealed only his own soul. They’d separated when sleeping it appeared.

“Always.”

“Wow, this is what you’re actually feeling?” Each emotion felt so distinct and different, the deep fondness manifesting as a touch to the cheek and a soft smile, the yearning a waltz across a marble floor, remaining a respectable distance but waiting for a moment alone to close the distance. So caught in this tide, he didn’t notice the tentacle resting along his back.

“Yes. I hope you could see through the sarcasm beforehand. But focus for a moment.” The appendage slid up his spine, Killer shivering. “I’m syphoning my power out of you by force, but once I break contact, you will be hit with whatever my corruption has done to you.”

“Still worried?” Killer grinned with a tilt of his head, shit eating smile not calming Night in the slightest.

“I didn’t want you to wake up in whatever state this will put you in. There’s a difference from knowing it’s coming to waking up overwhelmed.” Killer rolled his shoulders to ready up, taking a few breaths before nodding confidently.

“Hit me with it Nightlight.”

The instant the words left his mouth, the weight of the corruption fell on his back. He gasped, choking on the weight of the atmosphere, hate spilling out of his eyes. His soul pulsed heavily, weighted and overwhelming, drowning in a pit of self-loathing and anger that he almost couldn’t see through.

He fell off something. His hands scrambled along the floor, colliding with something that Killer clawed at until he was sat up again.

He trembled violently, bones clattering against his leverage. Sounded familiar though. Where had he heard it before? He focused on the sound to anchor himself in the moment, reflecting on it until the answer came to him suddenly. Nightmare’s desk, he’d had sex on enough times to remember the way wood sounded banging against bone.

Nightmare! He’d been with him before this.

Killer heaved in a few gulps of air. If he reached out with his magic, he could feel him, dark and powerful not too far away, and that helped get through the worst of the panic. The calm washed over him like soothing rain. It soaked into his joints until he laid back against the wood, completely still.

Amidst the black came a single bright ping of light. Hope lit in his chest like a lamp, illuminating his eyelights, finally able to see.

Feelings were too overwhelming to speak, but his staticky pupils stared at his moon’s face.

Nightmare forwent his usual propriety, his normally impassive face scrunched up in unease. His cyan pupil took in every movement, any motion or emotion he could see. Every tentacle hovered around him worriedly, barely restrained from touching Killer to sap the feeling away. He felt Night’s palms on his. He gripped them back with a tired grin.

He could see Nightmare trying to speak, but his ears hadn’t caught up to him yet, still roaring with the stress his body had gone through. He tugged on Nightmare’s arms, toppling the king to the ground into him. Pressed against his chest, he felt better already.

Oh look at his cute soulmate. God he loved him.

Night had been knocked down to kneeling over Killer’s collapsed form, sitting in his lap with flushed cyan cheeks, all right in reach of Killer. Night really should know who he was dealing with by now.

Killer kissed him fully, hands trailing to his shoulder joints to get his moon to huff and let him in. It felt incredible, their magic tongues sparking up pure passion between them through the bond. The fog from the shock of Night’s power was clearing, getting further and further away the more he touched his precious mate, measured in the volume of sounds finally reaching him. By the time they broke apart, Killer had his mind back enough to speak.

“I told you. You worry too much.” Killer grinned, eyes closed and amused. He nuzzled Night’s cheeks with his own. “If you think I was handsy before, you won’t be able to handle how much I want ya now.”

“You’re incorrigible.” Nightmare surged up into another kiss. The magical connection pulsed alive in their souls, swept away in the insatiable urge to be closer to each other. So enraptured that they only halted when they heard mumbling to the side.

“I’m not interrupting them Papyrus, they’ll take a break eventually…” Dust didn’t even flinch when their eyes snapped over to him.

“Didn’t take ya as a voyeur Dusty!” Killer laughed. Nightmare stood quickly, but didn’t move to take his place behind his desk.

“I suppose you’re reporting in on your latest assignment in Fellswap.” Night could compartmentalize like a pro, his face blank and unaffected in moments while Dust relayed his findings calmly. Killer had envied Night’s ability to sort away emotions and reject them, choosing to feel them instead of being overcome, but now that he had a direct link behind the facade, he found himself awed at his moon’s composure under enormous influence.

Calmed by the impromptu make out session, Killer searched inside himself for what was new.

The parts of the bond that came from Nightmare felt shiny, not like the pieces that had always been there. He could feel those rotting things from his own past had been broken in, worn to match the rest of him, unlike that which was added. Killer visualized Nightmare’s power like a tiny galaxy living in him. Dark and expansive, powerful and captivating, it crooked a finger at him to indulge in the negative in himself and in others around him. He could pull on it, indulge in the poisonous vapors, become more powerful in an instant.

Tentacles slithered over his arms, lifting him carefully but pulling his back flush against Nightmare’s chest.

“Now where were we?” Night’s voice rumbled through the both of them. Killer stroked each appendage and licked the corner of Nightmare’s mouth.

“Almost to the good part.”

He was level 20. Right hand of the terror of the multiverse. Mated to the god of negativity. He’d killed plenty and taken what he wanted his entire life.

Killer shut the power out of his mind. He’d take it in stride and learn to tame the damn thing. No need to throw away his sanity for more power than he already had, especially not at the cost of his moon.

One stray hand to his pelvis and the thought was gone.

“How do ya deal with the cravings?” Killer’s hand clenched around his knife, breathing through his nose in metered breaths. Blood red magic ran from his mouth where he’d bitten his tongue at the last second.

“I indulge when it is safe to do so.” Night watched cautiously from the door to the training room.

“And when’s that?” Killer curled in on himself.

“Moments like right now.”

He and Horror had been sparring, just like normal, taunting back and forth, when the corruption had reared its ugly head mid-sentence.

“Can’t keep up? Maybe that’s why you couldn’t feed Pap-” Killer instantly ate his own words, teeth cutting clean through his tongue before Horror could do anything in retaliation. He didn’t even block the attack Horror had started. They weren’t fragile, god knows that they had tougher skin than most, but there were lines you did not cross, and Killer had sprinted straight past them without looking back. He hadn’t moved since.

“So you’re feeding off my fuckup? At least that’s something.” His shirt was wet against his sternum, stuck and soaked in the front, sticky and thick on his fingers tearing into the fabric.

Nightmare pulled down, sitting beside him on the floor. Every limb hovered over Killer’s form. Times like this, he almost detested Nightmare’s superior control, unable to see beyond that carefully neutral face and the wall Nightmare could pull between their bond with ease.

“I cannot help my nature. That doesn’t mean I wished for this.” Nightmare folded his hands in his lap, a picture of patience. “He has already forgiven you.”

“He fucking shouldn’t. I knew what the fuck saying that would do.” Killer sneered at the floor. Black dripped down to mix with the crimson staining his clothes. He was such a piece of shit, giving in like this was his first damn rodeo, like he’d never had to exert ANY fucking self control! He fell forward until his face met the floor.

“You’ve only had this power for a few weeks. It takes time.” Killer could feel his tentacles tentatively soothe him at the edges, pokes and pats soft enough to be shaken off should he decide to run. “I’m sorry.”

Killer’s eyelights flicked on at the tiny pulse of sadness. Night could hide a lot, but powerful swings couldn’t be hidden from your soulmate.

He turned over to stare at his moon. His face looked steady as always, but knowing the emotion beneath gave it away. Night met his gaze evenly, but his eye had gotten soft, rounded on the edges. If he looked closely, tension pulled Night’s arms taut, elbows pressed too hard into his lap, tiny tremors in the forearms from pushing his stress to a hidden place most wouldn’t notice. Really seeing it had Killer shuffling up to sit again.

“Moon, I don’t regret anything. I’m mad at myself but not at this.” He sought out Night’s folded hands, grasping them with his dirtied ones. “The only thing directed at you is that you still keep hiding from me.”

“It’s...a lot to handle. You already feel overwhelmed, so I…”

“I get to decide when it’s too much Nightlight. Tell me how ya really feel.” The revulsion from his actions faded away, patiently waiting for Night to let down the wall.

It dropped all at once, a dam cracked open over his psyche, Killer awash in a million emotions, many that didn’t have names but ate at him sharply. Another piece of him soaked it in, eating up all Night’s doubts and self-loathing with glee. Killer flinched.

“It feels weird as fuck to like when you’re upset.” Killer scrunched up his face. “I prefer you smilin’. Or moaning.” He gave Night a saucy wink. His reward, a light peal of laughter, lit his soul up like a glowstick. Night cupped his wet face with a soft smile.

“I’d like that too.” A chaste kiss melted the dark atmosphere away, Killer left besotted in the wave of fondness from his lovely moon. “I will always feed on the negative, but in this, I gain strength from our love too.” He hummed softly at Killer’s enamoured look. “In sickness and health, my soul.”

The kiss was warm, but not drawn out. They were still in the training room after all.

“I guess I should clean up and apologize to Horror. Even if he forgives me, don’t mean I don’t have to apologize.” Killer stretched back. With a swing of his torso, he landed on his feet. Night stood to join him, resisting the urge to take him elsewhere for soft reassurances. “See ya tonight light?” Killer stuck his tongue out.

“It isn’t optional.” Night pulled him forward with a single hand by the collar of his hoodie. “I’d hunt you down if you tried to stay away.” His seductive smile made Killer purr.

“Hunt me down then Moonbeam. I look forward to it.” The pleasant shimmer of emotion under it all warmed his bones as he walked to his room for a change of clothes. Killer caught a glimpse of the hall mirror, taking in his wrecked appearance with little concern. With each day, he owned more and more of this new darkness, and one day soon, he’d have eternity left with Night. He flexed his arms to rest them behind his head.

“Now where is Horror?”

“Take Horror and get the fuck out of here.” Killer swung his blade through an ink stream. It deflected off to the side, narrowly missing Dust, who had Horror up over his shoulder.

“You can’t take Ink and Cross alone idiot.” Dust had started to back towards the exit anyway. He’d save two skins over one any day.

“Don’t need to take ‘em. Boss’s on his way, just gotta run out the clock.” His grin widened as he turned back to his opponents. The liquid hate began to pour from his sockets, dripping onto the floor, starting to puddle into pitch black pools. He slid his knife under the waterfall to coat it in the black sludge. “And I’ve gotten better at taking my time.” When he stepped forward, Cross stepped back.

“What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’re afraid.”

“Not a bit.” Cross’s stance shifted to put his blade between them. He kept readjusting his grip on his weapon, anxiously preparing for whatever new tricks Killer had up his sleeve. “I’m not so easily shaken.” His white eye went gold.

“I don’t think that’ll make that much of a difference.” Killer flipped his knife with ease, taunting his favorite punching bag of the Stars. Internally, he checked his balance to dodge positivity arrows. “Whatcha gunna do? Stare at me?”

Cross swung confidently in a forward dash. Killer jumped out of the way.

“I’ve got positivity on my side.” Killer almost laughed, but a shot of ink missed his face by an inch.

“And a little help!” Ink chuckled, setting himself up around the edges of Cross and Killer’s spar as inconvenient back up. Killer blocked a direct attack, focusing his energy to spread the corruption over to Cross’s blade at point of contact. The gold eyelight flickered until Cross whipped back.

“What the hell did he do to you?” Cross curved the sword to smash into the ground with a grimace. The sludge cracked and crumbled off.

“It’s better than the nothing Dream gave you.” Killer stuck out his tongue, enraging Cross into re-engaging.

Cross hadn’t gotten much better. His stamina had increased, drastically so, but so had Killer’s, that wasn’t making the difference. Cross stepped into the sludge pool, sliding off balance. Killer pounced on the opening. The back up ink stream caught his shoulder. He growled at the shot of pain but poured that feeling into his spark, bouncing back before Cross could even react.

Even the help wasn’t making that much of a difference. Cross just wasn’t messing up as much as usual.

Cross had always left openings in his attacks, and Killer exploited them, which upset Cross, which made him fuck up more, which made him an easier target, ad naseum until he kicked his angry, self loathing ass. Looks like he’d gone and gotten with Dream to get over himself. Well mostly, because he was still fucking up, but each success powered the positivity and that weakened Killer now, even as his own worries ate at him. It was the world’s worst snowball effect. Too absorbed in his own head; he found himself backed into a wall.

“Look who’s cornered now?” Killer hated that smile on Cross. Well, he’d either have to take a scalding or a slice to get out of this. He leaned back to push out of the corner after the swing.

“Try not to get my face. Boss’ll have no eye candy at the castle.”

“Well we can’t have that.” The sight of the tentacle gripping Cross’s knife made him swoon.

“W-what?” Cross’s eyesight dimmed back to white with Night’s touch. “How’d you get here so fast?!” Nightmare tilted his back towards Ink.

“Killer.”

“Yes Boss.” He took off towards the painter like a bolt, powered by the Night’s aura and the dread Cross eeked over the battlefield. He listened to Nightmare’s talk while easily keeping Ink busy.

“The better question, Cross, is why Dream has not come to save you. Are you just not worth saving?” He’d wrapped Cross in his tentacles, the spark of positivity being drowned out by the overwhelming panic, much tastier than normal loathing. “Did you think you could take him alone? Did you doubt that I’d come to defend what’s mine? Or is it...you can’t call him?”

“I can call him!” But no one came.

“Don’t forget who I am. I am not easily deceived.” Night’s satisfied smile drilled into Cross’s mind. “Such a pity. He mates with you but doesn’t tend to your spark. What a waste.” He tightened his hold on Cross, wincing at the tightening pressure. “Killer can call me from any corner of the world if he chooses. He can wield my gift. You were left with nothing but the promise of feeling better, while I raised my mate higher.” Night manipulated Cross to stare at him in the eyes. “Dream truly does not understand his own power, and, by extension, you.” Condescending and conceited in turns, though Killer could feel the pride beneath.

“You and Killer?” He’d barely gotten it out before his eyelights blanked.

“Not your concern.” He’d seeped most of Cross’s strength away before throwing him towards Ink disdainfully. He broke off his fight with Killer to look over at the limp offering. “I suggest you get him out of my sight. I will not spare him a second time.” Night turned away from the crumpled heap, wrecked traitor gone as soon as Ink grabbed him.

“If I said I wanted your body now, would ya hold it against me?” Killer held his arms wide open. Nightmare walked directly into them, not even waiting until Ink had fully portaled, kissing his mate fondly.

“Have I told you that you can be insufferable at times?” Killer laughed so hard he could hardly stand up straight.

“I know I’m your favorite. No need to say anything.” With a hand to guide Night on his chin, Killer angled into another kiss, soaking in the love and affection from his moon as easily as he had his worries and troubles. Nightmare rested easily between his arms, happier than Killer had ever seen and proud beyond measure of HIS soulmate.

“I love you. You are, indeed, my favorite.” He leaned into Killer’s chest. “Now, how about we go home for some preferential treatment?”

“Moon, you just read my mind.” Killer wrapped an arm around Night’s waist, sliding the other hand along his arm until he had Night’s clasped off to the side. A perfect dance pose, Night shaking his head with fake exasperation, straightening to press against him. The portal whirled open somewhere behind them. “Let’s waltz on outta here.” Night laughed.

“Lead the way Killer.”

He grinned and waltzed them right through the portal, to home.

Thank god, it POSTED.

#killermare #nightkiller #story time #soulmate AU

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igotbulletproof-insomnia · 3 years

Text

Adopting Bangtan 03

01, 02

Jeon Jungkook, age 3

At five o’clock in the morning, there are very few things you expect to happen during your five-minute wait for the coffee maker to heat and brew your coffee. None of them is the doorbell ringing.

Actually, you have all of zero expectations at five o’clock in the morning except to drink you coffee and maybe get mad that you didn’t put in enough sugar because you hate the taste of bitter and death and --

Right. It’s five in the morning and your doorbell has rung twice now. You’re wondering, if you continue to ignore it, will the person at the door wander off and bug someone else? It’s unusual enough that someone is ringing the bell in the first place, the least they could have done was ring it at a decent hour. Or waited ten minutes for you to get your coffee and become a human again.

Oh. Doorbell’s rung three times now. At least, the coffee maker has started trickling and the lovely, blessed aroma of caffeine and life is reanimating you into something less of a zombie. Now you’re wondering who in the ever-loving hell decided five in the morning is a good time to visit. On the way to the door, you made sure to zip the sweater you pulled on over your pajamas up to the neck and consider if it’s gotten cold enough to start turning the heat on yet. You peek out of the window, but don’t see anything. Just in case your vantage isn’t wide enough, you open the front door --

-- and find a baby.

Well. Baby might be a slight exaggeration. It’s a slight child, bundled in a coat and two quilts. It was a toddler, no older than two or three, with short hair that told you it was a boy, and he was laid out, asleep across your doorstep. You blinked down at the child, then glanced around. There isn’t anyone in your immediate sight, so you carefully step over the sleeping child to check further up the street than standing in your front door will allow. Still, you saw no one, and you were left with a strange child you knew on your doorstep. You frown down at him, annoyed. It isn’t the child’s fault, you know this, but it still feels like part of your day just got ruined.

You aren’t keeping this one. He’s too small and he’ll be too needy and you just you can’t do it. Namjoon and Yoongi are enough, and they practically take care of themselves. With them, all you have to do is just make sure they’re safe and happy, they handle the rest. However, a toddler on the other hand will need constant supervision and constant stimulation and you’ll have to baby-proof the house, which sounds like a whole nightmare. This child, this baby was only coming inside long enough for you to drink your coffee, eat your toast, and put on proper pants before you report his abandonment to the police.

“Are you adopting another kid?” Yoongi asks quietly. You jump, you could swear the kid moved like a ninja. You’ve put a bell on him more than once and it doesn’t even ring.

“We have a new brother?!” Namjoon shouts from across the apartment. He runs from the bedroom, practically jumping on to the sofa where you placed the sleeping kid while you ate. “Hey, little guy! I’m Namjoonie-hyung. What’s your name?”

“The kid’s asleep,” you tell him. “Speaking of which, why aren’t you?” They won’t need to get dressed for school for another two hours. That should have been plenty of time for you to put clothes on and run the toddler to the closest precinct and return with your boys’ breakfast.

“No, he’s awake,” says Namjoon.

“We heard the doorbell,” answers Yoongi at the same time.

“Hey, don’t be scared, my name’s Namjoon,” your first kid is grinning at the child with his dimples and the gentle voice he reserves for the animals at the park and it’s breaking your heart because you aren’t keeping the baby.

“Was he why the doorbell was ringing?” Yoongi asked quietly. He was pulling two mugs from the cabinet with a sort of nonchalance that you almost let him get away with.

“My name is Jungkook,” a tiny voice replies to Namjoon. He speaks with a small lisp, like a lot of small children, and with a hint of sadness. You try not to let that bother you. The small one is not your responsibility.

“Yep,” you answer Yoongi. You take the cup of coffee he offers you and put the second, still empty mugh back into the cabinet. Yoongi pouts, but doesn’t argue any further; this is a reoccurring battle in the morning, one you will reluctantly admit to losing at least once a week. You enjoy the smell of the hot beverage, as you listen to Namjoon chatter away at the kid on your couch. You can hear how attached he’s already become. It’s going to break your heart when you tell him that no, he is not getting a little brother.

“Do you want me to distract him while you take the little one away?” Yoongi’s voice is just above a whisper. The look on his face is disturbingly stoic for an eight-year-old, but over the last few months you’ve learned a few of his tells. He isn’t happy. Upon further scrutiny, you realize that he also wants to keep the kid.

“You’re upset with me,” you say instead.

“It’s the smarter choice,” he shrugs at you, but once you figured out that he wants you to keep the kid, it was easy to tell why. He knows you have the ability, the resources to take care of another child. It bothers him that you’re rejecting the kid -- Jungkook -- simply because you have the choice. If you don’t want Jungkook, can you decide that you don’t want Yoongi either? What if you eventually reject Namjoon too?

You take a few sips of coffee, eyes turned heavenwards. These kids are going to kill you. They really will. They’re already blatantly and successfully manipulating you and they aren’t even ten-years-old yet.

“Toddlers are a lot of work, Yoongi,” you say. “I have the money to take care of all three of you, but I don’t have the time.”

“Joonie and I can take care of him then,” he shrugs. He’s filling the kettle with water and taking down two more mugs, one for himself and one for Namjoon. You begin to fill two filters with tea leaves. Yoongi scowls again, but doesn’t outright object, so you take that as your one win for the day. Because clearly, you aren’t winning anything else today.

“It’s not that easy,” you grab your coffee mug again. It’s so warm and the house is so cold and you are so not ready for this discussion. Or anything, really.

“Why not?” “You and Namjoon, have school, Yoongi. And I have to work. He can’t stay home by himself. What am I supposed to do with a toddler?”

“You say that like you can’t hire a babysitter,” Yoongi rolls his eyes “Or find a daycare.” You stop sniffing at your coffee, stop enjoying the feel and smell of life, intelligence, patience, joy and stare at your kid. He stares back at you, but the nibbling of his lip tells you that he’s acknowledging what he’s said and exactly why a daycare will not be anything you ever consider. You don’t trust strangers with your children, and it’s for that exact reason why a babysitter will be hard to come across too. Yoongi sighs, and you know that’s all the verbal acknowledgement you’ll receive.

“This is our caretaker,” Namjoon is carrying the toddler into the kitchen now. Jungkook is free of his coat, blankets, and shoes, and Namjoon sits him at the kitchen table. Another mug comes out of the kitchen cabinet, this one immediately filled with milk and placed in front of the kid. He’s as small as you thought he would be, wearing jeans and a sweater that seem to swallow him whole. His eyes are as big as his whole face and they dart around, taking in the new room. Namjoon tells the kid your name and introduces Yoongi as his older brother and the whole thing is just so heart-warming and sweet that you literally can’t anymore. You down the rest of your coffee and pour a second. It’s unusual for you, to drink a second cup of coffee this soon, but you’re going to need all of the brain power you can get to figure out how exactly to make this work.

“You know what? I don’t want toast anymore. You boys want to go to the Ahjumma’s restaurant this morning or to our favorite Ahjussi’s?”

“Oh! Can you bring us bread from that one store?” asks Namjoon. He’s practically bouncing in his chair, and the enthusiasm is apparently contagious.

“With fruit salad?” Yoongi requests. He managed to sneak in a cup of coffee in the end, pouring it while you were watching Namjoon with Jungkook, distracted with your thoughts.

“We were supposed to be going out together, but hey, save me a few won, I guess.”

“I think Areum-noona might be looking for another job,” Yoongi mentions as you pass.

Your only response is to blow him a raspberry.

04, 05, 06, 07

#bts #bts fan fiction #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #bangtan #kid bts #because this will be a thing #bts ARMY #jungkook fan fiction #no regrets #cross posted on ao3 #DarkBalance #collecting strays

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adventuresinwonderlust · 3 years

Text

Title: Serious Inquiries Only: PART 2

*FOR PART 1 CLICK HERE or SEE MASTERLIST*

Pairing: dom! yoongi x reader ft. Hobi

Warnings: Talk of sexual favors, flirting, crack, humor, Solo Masturbation (M) (F).

Rating: 18 and over

Yoongi:

Yoongi sits at his computer browsing through his ‘SIO' page when a notification pops up. A new subscriber has signed up for a yearly membership but didn’t submit a request for their welcome gift. “Hmm, strange.” He clicks on the new subscriber’s user name ‘WildGoddess11'. He hums again. “OK wild Goddess, let’s get you set up shall we.” He shoots a private message to the user.

‘Hello WildGoddess11,

Welcome to my page. I hope you find everything you’re looking for here. I noticed however that you didn’t send in a request for your personal gift. Please be sure to choose from one of the two categories I work in and submit before midnight. I look forward to creating content for you.

All the best,

Gloss93'

Yoongi waits a moment to see if he gets a response. Just as he is about to sign off, his computer pings with a new message.

‘Hello Gloss93,

Thank you for the warm welcome. I imagine though, that you do this for all your customers. I know I was supposed to submit a request but honestly, I had a bit of an unconventional one. I was hoping you would accommodate me. I don’t normally surf these sites but you come highly recommended from a very close friend who says you are someone who is incredibly trustworthy. I’ll gladly pay extra. Please let me know if you’re interested. Thanks.

WildGoddess11'

Yoongi chuckles at the message. “Unconventional. What the hell does that mean?” He mumbles to himself. He hums again, sending a message back.

‘WildGoddess11,

I don’t normally take special request. I prefer to stay within the realm of what I normally offer. I am however, intrigued and willing to hear what you have to offer.

Gloss93’

He sits back in his chair, waiting, the anticipation killing him. He shakes his leg frantically, looking at his phone, then putting it down, then picking it up again. Finally, after what feels like forever, his notifications rings. He clicks it immediately.

‘Gloss,

I want, nay, need you to feed a darker side of me. Complete anonymity, 1000 dollars a month for sexual asks. Photos, videos, and phone calls. We don’t need to show our faces, since I can see that’s not your thing and honestly, I prefer that as well. I also ask that you not provide this service to any other clients. I can be a little jealous lol. Like I said you came highly recommended so I trust that we can work together. It won’t change my subscribing to your page if you say no. I understand if this isn’t for you. So, if you do say no, I am down to just submit a normal request. Let me know if you need time to think it over. Thanks.

WildGoddess'

Yoongi’s eyes widen as he reads and re-reads the message in front of him. He doesn’t know how to respond. He has never wanted to delve into this type of thing. Feeling confused, he picks up his phone and calls Hobi. “Hey, I need your advice.” “Sure. What’s up?” “I got a new subscriber today and they are making an unconventional request and I don’t know what to do because I mean, I’m intrigued. No one has ever come to me with something like this before.” “What was the request?” “Sexual asks. 1000 bucks a month.” “Get the fuck out of here! Are you serious? I didn’t think... I mean… I… that’s nuts!” Yoongi’s brow furrows. “Hobi, something I should know? Did you give out my code?” “Uh, no, it’s just that’s a lot of money, I was taken aback. You should just do it.” Yoongi sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t want to get caught up in this type of shit.” “Look, you wouldn’t have called me if you weren’t thinking about it already. Just trust me, you won’t regret this.” Yoongi grunts in frustration. “I better not.” “I’m excited for you.” Yoongi chuckles at Hobi’s comment. “What does that mean Hobi?” “Uh…. nothing…. just that it’s cool you know. 1000 bucks, I don’t even make that much!” Yoongi decides not to question further, instead thinking about Y/N. “Hey, how did the gift go over with Y/N?” “Aw man, she thought it was a prank from me. She freaked! Then she comes out of her room wearing it! Anyway, great choice because she looks great in it.” “She put them on for you?!? What the fuck?” Yoongi whines. “Not for me. In spite of me. Anyway, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.” “Yeah alright.” Yoongi hangs up and types a response. “Here goes nothing.”

Y/N:

Your computer pings with a notification and you jump out of your bed and to your computer. It’s finally a response from Gloss.

‘WildGoddess11,

Let’s do this as a one-month trial period. Like I said before I don’t like to do this type of thing but I have to admit you are the first person to really pique my interest. I’ll allow you to submit me a special request and I’ll send it back to you via private messaging. I encourage you to review some of my past videos, perhaps it’ll motivate you. Happy hunting.

Gloss93'

You squeal, excited that he accepted your request. You had already been looking over his page, making yourself horny watching his hand kink videos and ASMR. He was hot and you had never even seen his face. You had already known exactly what you wanted to ask for. You bite you lip, typing your request.

‘Gloss,

Now that we are nice and established, let’s move past the niceties. I would like to request a dual hand kink/ASMR of you masturbating, I want to hear you moan my name while watching you grasp your sheets for me. Please send soon. My greedy little cunt can hardly contain herself. Also, please send me your information so I may transfer your extra funds. Happy stroking.

WildGoddess'

You bite your lip, excited to see what he has in store for you. “Y/N, I ordered Chinese. You hungry?” Hobi calls to you from behind the door. “Coming.” You respond, closing your laptop and walking out to have dinner with Hobi. “So, did you use that code I gave you?” Hobi ask. “Uh, yeah actually I did.” Hobi’s brows shoot up. “And, how did it go?” “I don’t know what you mean. It’s pretty basic honestly, although not having to pay the yearly membership frees up my funds. Who is this guy anyway? Why do I feel like you’re up to something?” Hobi shrugs. “No one special. Someone I know from the site. Trust that I always have your best interest in mind.” You nod. “Well, I’ll keep you posted on how it goes.” You inform him. He smiles wide, shoving food in his mouth. Your phone vibrates and you look to see a notification from ‘SIO'. You hop in excitement and click it to see a message from Gloss.

‘WildGoddess,

I think that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever read. I’m hard just imagining what your greedy little cunt looks like. You can send me money to my PayMo account, same username, Gloss93. I look forward to working with you. Look for me in your inbox soon enough. Goodnight.

Gloss'

“Good news?” Hobi wiggles his brows at you. “Shut up Hobi. Why don’t you explain to me why you bought that lingerie?” Hobi chews quickly. “Woah, woah, woah. That wasn’t me. I am not your secret admirer ok, I actually voted against you getting that gift.” Your eyes pop open. “Yoongi, that piece of shit!” “What,” Hobi chuckles nervously, “No, who said anything about Yoongi. I didn’t say anything about Yoongi.” Hobi turns pale, eating quickly. “You know Hoseok, you’re a terrible liar. I’m going to kill your friend.” “Come on Y/N, he really likes you. He may be a little, I don’t know, bad, with his approach but he has the best intentions. Give him a chance.” You roll your eyes. You did have a huge crush on him but giving in now would be bad. You just weren’t ready. “Hey, since you’re now a part of ‘SIO’ you wanna come to the annual meet and greet bash they throw?” “Hell no. Isn’t that just some orgy fest?” Hobi laughs loudly. “Well, it can be don’t get me wrong but it’s more so to gain more subscribers and get to know creators you already follow.” “Will Gloss be there? Like does he go?” Hobi’s eyes light up. “Gosh Y/N, you’ve only been subscribed an hour and already you’re addicted huh? He has that effect on people. It’s his voice, I think. Unfortunately, he doesn’t go to any events, he likes anonymity.” You pout a bit. “Well, then, no. I’m good thanks.” “Suit yourself.” You both finish dinner, helping each other clean up. You head off to your room, your phone vibrating. You look to see a notification from ‘SIO’, you plop onto your bed, hands shaking as you open the message.

‘WildGoddess,

This is my first time doing this so I hope it’s good. I must admit I rather enjoyed myself. I hope you will too. Again, welcome to my page. I look forward to working with you. Talk soon.

Gloss’

You grab your headphones, plug them into your phone, and click on the video attached to the note. The camera is pointed at what you imagine is his bed. The sheets are a crisp white. You swallow, your eyes frantically scanning your phone screen when his hand suddenly appears, gliding up the sheet, followed by strained sigh. You feel yourself strain a bit, trying to hear every little thing. Soon, you can hear the sounds of his stroking, the lurid fapping filling your ears, followed by his soft pants. The fingers on his left hand spread wide across the sheet. “Fuck, this feels so good.” You moan at the deep silky sound of his voice filling your right ear. He chuckles into the left ear and you feel a chill travel down your spine causing your back to arch. You focus heavily on the wet sounds filling his room and your ears. He’s stroking so fast now, his breath quickening, pants becoming more desperate. He is sure to move between mics, stimulating both of your ears.

You don’t know when but your hand has made its way into your panties and you whimper touching your swollen bud. “God, I hope you’re touching yourself,” He soon says into your left ear, “filling your tight little cunt up, pretending it’s me. I bet your pussy is so wet right now.” He sniffs into the right ear and you moan loudly into your room. “I bet that cunt smell delicious.” “Fuck!” You cry out, shoving two fingers into your clenching core. You begin to thrust in and out of yourself in conjunction with the delicious sounds of his stroking. He growls into your left ear. “I’m going to cum soon.” Moving to the right ear. “Is that what my greedy WildGoddess wants, my hot cum all over her?” “Yes, yes,” You pant, swirling circles around your bud before returning to your sopping hole, “Please come for me Gloss, please.” You watch as he grips the sheets hard, his veins bulging wildly from the top of his fist. His breath quickens and a relieved groan escapes his throat “Fuuuuuck!” He moans. His climax shooting from off camera onto his clenched fist. The sight causing your cunt to seize wildly around your fingers, your orgasm hits you in a hard crash. You cry his name into the room, your eyes tightly shut, only white bubbles floating in your vision. You soon open your eyes, coming down from your high, the sounds of him giggling gorgeously into the right mic. You look at your phone to see him release his messy fist from around his sheet. “Till next time my WildGoddess.” He declares, shutting the camera off.

Yoongi:

Yoongi rubs his eyes, exhausted from staying up late, hoping to hear from his “WildGoddess” about his video. She never replied, leaving him stuck in his own head all night, tossing and turning. “ICED AMERICANO.” The Barista shouts. Yoongi walks over grabbing his drink with a nod and heads over towards campus kicking himself for agreeing to meet Hobi this early. “Wow! You look like shit.” “Thanks, Hoseok. Not all of us can be a ray of sunshine like you.” “How was last night?” Hobi inquires, wiggling his brows. Yoongi shrugs. “What are you talking about?” “Oh, uh, nothing. Just seeing what you were up to.” Yoongi chuckles, sipping from his drink. “Nothing, I stood up all night, thinking about that goddamn subscriber. She never responded to her video.” Hobi looks at Yoongi with wide eyes. “You sent her a video?” “Yeah, like I do all my subscribers. A welcome video but hers was a little more tailor made if you will. Anyway, she never responded if she liked it or not. I guess I shouldn’t care. She would’ve complained if she didn’t like it.” Hobi nods, then tilts his head, then shrugs. “She liked it.” Yoongi eyes him suspiciously. “Yeah, I guess. Like they say, no news is good news.” “Hey, are you going to go to the Annual meet and greet for ‘SIO' this year.” Hobi asks. Yoongi scoff. “No, I never go to that shit.” “Well, maybe now that you got this mysterious stranger, you know, you would be more interested in it.” “No, we are keeping things anonymous. Just like I like it.” Yoongi clips.

“Well, if you change your mind, I’m going to be going this year.” “You go every year Hoseok, nothing has changed.” Yoongi says. “So, did you happen to take any pictures of Y/N in her gift?” Yoongi asks now. Hobi laughs heartily. “I was in shock at how amazing she looked to be honest. I mean, her ass, AMAZING!” Hobi shakes his head. Yoongi groans, jealous that he wasn’t there to witness her in all her glory. “Why didn’t you drag her along with you today to collect your schedules and pay your school tab off.” “Honestly I don’t know how I can face her after last night.” Yoongi’s ears perk up. “Why? What happened?” Hobi freezes in place, “Uh because of the lingerie thing of course. Why? What did you think?” Yoongi licks his lips, watching Hobi shuffle into the office of the main building. “Hobi, you’re a terrible liar. Did something happen?” “No, of course not. Honestly, it was that. I’ve never seen her so, uh, nude. Yeah, that’s it.” He walks to the secretary at the front desk and asks to pays his student fees. “Cash please and may I have a receipt?” “Sure thing.” She takes his money and prints him a receipt. “Where to now? Breakfast?” Hobi turns to face Yoongi. “How about your place?” He drawls. Hobi chuckles nervously but nods.

Y/N:

You were a panting mess after your third time getting off to the video Gloss sent you. You had been happy when you heard Hobi leave this morning, knowing you could be as loud as you wanted to be. Now, however, you dropped down on your side unable to moved, your battered pussy throbbing, finally allowing your eyes to flutter shut. You feel the edge of your bed shift and you moan unhappily. “You look spent, one would assume you had company last night.” Your eyes pop open to find Yoongi smirking at you from the foot of your bed. You jump up suddenly, tucking your phone and headphones away. “What the fuck are you doing in my room Yoongi?” You seethe, watching him as he eyeballs everything in his surroundings.

“I brought you lunch. Thought you might be hungry.” “OK well, you don’t need to be in here for that so please go.” You wave him off. He smiles seductively, looking at your exposed legs, then up your oversized shirt to your face. “Do you always wear a garter to sleep?” He tilts his head to the side, biting his lip. You look down and quickly tuck the belt under your shirt. “Is that your business Min Yoongi?” He shrugs, dropping his eyes to the ground, bending forward with a suck of his teeth. “They look better with these on.” He whispers, licking his lips. You yank your thong from his fingers, and shove him away. He chuckles, getting up now and moving towards the door. “Has anyone ever told you that you are the most beautiful woman in the world?” “Get the fuck out Yoongi!! HOBI! Come get your friend.” He pouts at you and walks out of your room. You release a sigh, moaning into your hand as you feel your juices coat your cunt. “Fucking Min Yoongi.” You whisper to yourself.

Yoongi:

Yoongi hits refresh for what feels like a hundred times on his ‘SIO' account and nothing. He releases a sigh, whining when Hobi comes around and punches him in the arm. “What was that for?” “Why do you insist on torturing her?” Yoongi can’t help but smile. “She was still wearing the lingerie, well some of it anyhow. Did she have someone over last night? She looked…I don’t know. Satisfied.” Hobi scoffs and shakes his head nervously. “She hasn’t been with someone in a long time. Now please let’s eat.” “I mean you’d tell me, right? If I was wasting my time?” “Oh, so are we now admitting that we have feelings for her and are actively pursuing her?” Hobi snips. Yoongi shrugs. “I’ve always said I had feelings for her. I just never thought I was her type. Not being the point, I don’t want to get involved if she’s involved already.” Hobi shakes his head again. “She’s not. I’d tell you.”

Yoongi sighs in relief, standing straight when Y/N exits her room to join them. She is fully dressed now causing Yoongi to chuckle. “You didn’t have to get all dressed up for me you know. I am all for oversized shirts and no panties.” Yoongi comments. She flips him the bird and walks over to fridge for a beverage. She joins them at the table and they begin to dig into the food. Yoongi watches as Y/N pulls out her phone, stretching a bit as she types, trying to see who she could be texting. “Did you have company last night?” Yoongi inquires. She looks up from her phone at him and smirks. “And what if I did Yoongi?” He shrugs. “Then they are lucky.” She simply laughs but Yoongi feels the sting of jealousy at the thought. He watches as she looks down at her phone. “He would’ve had to crawl up the side of the building because I was right in the living room the whole night.” Hobi interjects. Yoongi’s phone buzzes suddenly and he pulls it out of his pocket. He sits up straight, seeing a notification from SIO.

‘Gloss,

My god! That may have been the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Is it possible for me to think you are so fucking hot without me ever having seen your face? You may or may not have me sprung. I mean, if beating this pussy 3 times can be considered sprung…. what do you think? Sprung off you?

WildGoddess.’

Yoongi chuckles in shock at the message, looking up suddenly at Y/N. She munches away at her lunch and soon realization hits Yoongi. His heart races and he takes to writing a response to confirm his theory.

WildGoddess,

3 times huh? Someone must be spent today. I’m honored. You should be too; They say third time is the charm. I look forward to making all your filthy dreams come true. Sprung on you too?

Gloss.

Yoongi hits send, waiting anxiously. Suddenly, Y/N’s phone buzzes and he feels the bile rise in his stomach. He shoots a look at Hobi who locks eyes with him in confusion. Yoongi gives him an angered look and Hobi’s face drops. Yoongi turns to face Y/N when he hears her giggle. “Thanks for lunch guys. I gotta go.” She walks off to her room staring at her phone. Once out of ear shot, Yoongi slams his fist on the table making Hobi jump. “What did you do Hoseok?” “I…. I don’t know what you mean?” “Don’t fuck with me. Is it her? The new user? Is it Y/N?” Hobi drops his fork, looking to her bedroom to ensure the door is closed. “She needed a distraction Yoongi.” Yoongi growls at Hobi’s confirmation, dropping his head in his hands. “I didn’t want to connect with her this way. We have to tell her.” Yoongi gets up and walks towards her room. “No, no, no,” Hobi almost shrieks, yanking Yoongi back to the table, “Look you said you like her. She likes you. She’s just scared ok. This is the perfect opportunity for the two of you to get to know one another without any pressure involved.” “No, only the pressure of a 1000-dollar payment every month.” “Ok, I didn’t anticipate that. Just don’t accept the money. She doesn’t know it’s you she’s talking to. Take her on some dates, then spill the beans but don’t do it now. She’ll kill us both!” “The longer I wait the worse this is Hobi. It’s betraying her trust.” “No, no. Look you’re getting caught up on semantics. I know her best ok. It’s better if she slowly comes out of her shell and this is the perfect way to do that. Trust me. I know what I am doing.” “If this goes south Hobi and believe me it will. I’m throwing you under the bus, better yet, driving it over you.” Yoongi declares in a huff, storming out of the apartment before he changes his mind.

#bts smut #suga x reader #suga x you #yoongi smut

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prompt-master · 3 years

Text

Familiar New Beginnings

Hajime woke up that morning already feeling a barrage of unimpressed emotions. He knew his routine by now, had it memorized forwards and backwards. He would do chores around the island, check up on the others still in their comas, then have a video chat with Makoto to update on their status. Despite surviving the impossible, Hajime’s life felt surprisingly uneventful. There was a certain layer of dreariness that stuck to his daily life now. He tried his best to wash it off, but there was always leftover residue no matter how hard he scrubbed. Afterall, many of his friends were comatose, the four others were dealing with their own demons, and nothing in their routine ever seemed to change. He had hope that things would change… but it all felt so…

Hajime groaned, ruffling his hair in the bathroom mirror. If he wasn’t careful, he would sound just like Izuru.

‘And what is wrong with that?’ Speak of the devil.

‘I don’t know… everything?’ Just like that the conversation was over as quickly as it had begun.

He and Izuru were… Well, it had gotten better that’s for sure. Just a month ago the two were constantly clashing with each other. They had argued over everything from moral differences to petty squabbles. At times they had even fought for control of their body, which looked downright scary to the others whenever they got a glimpse. Now… Hajime didn’t really know how to describe his relationship with Izuru. He doesn’t like him, but he doesn’t hate him anymore either.

Not that it mattered much. Izuru wasn’t a part of his daily routine except for the fact that he was always in the back of his head observing. And Hajime was taking things one day at a time.

What mattered right now was getting to the restaurant for breakfast, a quick meeting, and chore assignment. It wasn’t really necessary (Izuru reminded him of this every single morning meeting), but the mini tradition was nice. It was like a small reminder that they were in this together. The morning meeting really could make the difference between a bad day and a good day. Kazuichi slinging his arm around him, talking about stupid guy stuff. Sonia trying to work out the chore assignments but getting distracted with more fun conversation. Fuyuhiko pretending to be bitter and serious, but everyone could see he was enjoying himself. Akane of course would always be energetic as Hell. Hajime swore she could always pull them out of a funk with how much of a driving fight she had (even if she mostly used it for her hunger). Morning meetings reminded Hajime how lucky he was to have escaped with them. They reminded him why he was fighting. They reminded him although things currently felt dreary and repetitive, something good would come out of it. Morning meetings were simply wonderful.

At least, that’s what Hajime would have said a day ago.

Because today’s morning meeting was garbage. There was no way to sugar coat it. He had barely gotten to talk to any of his friends, and although they made his favorite breakfast he was instantly handed a chore list that could only be described as annoying. After reading over the list, Hajime looked up at Sonia.

“Seriously?” The list consisted solely of the most difficult unwanted jobs, not to mention the fact that many were on opposite sides of the island.

“I’m terribly sorry, Hinata-kun.” Her smile didn’t look sorry though. Before he could get too bitter, Izuru had to remind Hajime that her smile hasn’t been as bright ever since getting her despair memories back. She did a polite bow, one in that over exaggerated foreigner way, “the others have been incredibly down lately so I wanted to try and ease their workload.”

Hajime could already feel a hefty weight on him, “why me though?”

There was a shift in her eyes, a quick glance that she tried to hide, “I figured that…”

Of course she had, since she glanced at his red eye after all. If only she realized how uncooperative Izuru could be. Sure, he had the Ultimate Ultimate living in the attic space of his head but it meant nothing when all he wanted to do was watch.

Regardless, Hajime nodded. Taking some load off his friends back may do them some good. He knows he heard Kazuichi screaming from a nightmare last night. Probably about the death machines he built.

“But just this once”, he had said.

He could practically feel Izuru mocking him in his dead toned way. Throughout the day of trying to get his chores done and ignoring Izuru’s sudden comments about being bored he would hardly get to see any of his friends. It sucked, but sometimes it had to happen, he supposed. They weren’t on an island vacation after all, they had to keep the island self sustaining. All in all… an incredibly lackluster day as he had feared. It was this brand of nothingness that left Hajime feeling vague within his own body. The lack of stimulation allowed him to fade out until the next chore was done. It was a numbness over his body as his brain went into autodrive.

And he hated it.

Feeling like he was floating, feeling like he has no control of his body. That reminded Hajime of how close he was to simply not existing anymore. In fact, sometimes he still wonders if he doesn’t exist. Maybe he’s just Izuru, and this is Izuru’s weird way of coping with everything.

‘Don’t be idiotic, Hajime.’ Izuru said, pulling him back into reality. Right. He was working on the farm. ‘You have survived one of the final trials between hope and despair, against Enoshima Junko herself. Yet you still doubt your own existence. How boring.’

Hajime laughed through his nose, pulling another root out of the ground. Izuru certainly had a strange way of cheering him up. Maybe Hajime was the strange one though, because it worked.

‘Careful, Kamukura, you almost sound sentimental.’

There was a beat of silence. For a moment Hajime thought that was the end of the conversation. It wasn’t unusual for them to have short bursts of conversation that cut off suddenly. When he spoke again, Hajime wished he had the talent Makoto did. He wished he could see beyond Izuru’s tone to hear the meaning behind them. Even though it was the same flat, uninterested, soft voice he had heard a million times before, he felt as though there was something unseen within.

‘I have told you this before, but that particular trial was one I had set up myself. Your existence is a display of significance and impossibility. Do not disappoint.’

It wasn’t too odd to hear this sentiment from Izuru. In fact Hajime had heard it from the moment he woke up. His very existence was the defining reason Izuru gave hope a chance. It clearly meant a lot to Izuru, even if continued to claim he could feel nothing. Still, Hajime couldn’t help but wonder why Izuru was saying this now. Izuru didn’t say anything without purpose. Ah, he didn’t want Hajime to be moping around all day. That would be much too boring. Hajime decided to give Izuru some control over the body just this once, to let him play around in the dirt and with the bugs within. For a man who could do anything, he always found interest in such simple matters. It was almost charming.

Hajime must have nodded off at some point, because when he had come back into the driver’s seat not only was the crop work done, but so were several other chores on the list. Hajime couldn’t even process that for a moment, having to confirm both with Izuru and his own eyes multiple times to be sure. It was always odd blacking out and finding his own body had done something without him. ‘You didn’t have to do all that’ Hajime had said. ‘I was bored’ was all he got in response. Typical Izuru.

Although Hajime could still feel the aches of labor throughout his body, he had to admit that the break was a welcomed one. Even if Izuru hadn’t intended for it to be a relaxing moment, Hajime supposed sometimes taking the backseat didn’t need to feel so life ending. After all, like Izuru said, if he could survive Junko, he could survive today. And tomorrow. And any day.

Hajime’s step had a bit more vigor in it now. He felt just slightly more energized. He could tackle the few chores left on the list now. He was certain that without Izuru occasionally throwing in a comment, Hajime would fall asleep while cleaning.

With the chores list done, he had to do some inspection on his comatosed friends. It was certainly a tough job to handle, but Byakuya - er… The Imposter- had recently been showing some promising signs. For both The Imposter’s sake and his own, Hajime would keep this work flow going. He had to, even if he felt tired. Besides, the sooner he finished with that, the sooner he could call Makoto, and the sooner he could lay in bed and go to sleep. Just imagining that left Hajime feeling happy, maybe with some luck he could even convince Izuru to not interrupt his sleep out of boredom.

“Yo, Hinata!”

Strangely enough, outside the hospital was Kazuichi, seemingly waiting for him. As Hajime approached, Kazuichi pushed off the wall he was leaning against and jogged up to him.

Hajime placed his hands in his pockets, ignoring Izuru’s gentle scoldings about how that was rude and closed off body posture, “Hey Souda, what are you doing here?”

Kazuichi flashed a smile full of teeth, “The others decided to throw a dinner party, so I came to let ya know. Cuz y’know, you’re invited, of course.”

“A dinner party?” Hajime couldn’t deny the temptation. “What for?”

“We’ve been all working so hard ‘n stuff!”

“Ah, so it’s just an excuse to party.”

Kazuichi glared and pointed at Hajime in accusation, “hey hey we deserve to have this man!”

Hajime laughed, rolling his eyes, “well, I guess so. It sounds like fun, I hope you guys enjoy yourselves.”

“Hold on. What do you mean ‘you guys’?”

“Well... “ Hajime rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m pretty tired in all honesty. Besides,” Hajime glanced at the hospital, “It feels a bit wrong to celebrate right now.”

Kazuichi’s eyes widened, and he began waving his hands side to side, “you got to come!”

“I do?”

“Yes!” At Hajime’s continued confusion, Kazuichi took a step back to try and calm himself down, “It would be weird without you, we need you to join.”

Hajime tried to wave his hand in dismissal, “I’ve done a lot of work today, Souda-”

But Kazuichi just clasped his hands together and began begging, “please Hinata!” he said. Geez, Kazuichi was always pushy when it came to this sort of stuff but…

‘Enough. Just agree to go.’

‘We need rest. You’d be bored anyway.’

‘Rest is far more boring than a predictable dinner. Besides, you wish to go, so I see no point in refusal.’

Hajime sighed. How did he always get pushed into antics like this? “Alright, Souda, Alright, I’ll go.”

Kazuichi threw his fits up into the air in celebration, “Fuck yeah! You won’t regret this Hinata!” before Hajime could make any more small talk Kazuichi ran off towards the island bridge.

“I’m gonna tell Owari to bring the good booze!” He yelled.

Hajime cupped his hands over his mouth, “Don’t drink too much!” They still had work to do the next day afterall.

A dinner party huh? Seemed a bit out of the blue, but the others like to do little activities to keep morale up. He supposed this just had to be another example of that. Hajime yawned as he entered the hospital, already knowing that he would be up late tonight. They would probably meet for this little get together at around six or seven at night. And thanks to the simulation, Hajime was still used to ending the day around ten. Maybe he could convince Sonia to let him sleep until late the next day, Izuru did have Ultimate Psychologist on his hand after all. He could be incredibly convincing when he wanted to.

‘Absolutely not.’

Oh, c’mon. Hajime hadn’t even shared that thought with Izuru!

‘You’re predictable.’

Hajime rolled his eyes, getting to work at the hospital. Before he knew it the day was essentially over. There was little to no progress to report, but Makoto assured him that things were looking up regardless. Makoto assured him that every day. Although in this particular call, Makoto did seem to hold more kindness to his smile than usual. He told Hajime to take the day off tomorrow, which was odd. Hajime hasn’t taken many days off at all since waking up. The only exception was back when he and Izuru would fight more often. Why would he take a day off now? Perhaps Makoto could tell he needed a good night's sleep?

Either way, Hajime just had to survive the dinner party. And at least this would be genuinely enjoyable. It would just be him, his friends, and the bottles of alcohol around them.

Akane greeted him at the door, “Hinata!” she yelled, smile bright as ever.

Kazuichi of course wrapped an arm around Hajime once he saw him, shaking him back and forth.

Sonia held both of his hands in hers, guiding him to the food she and Akane helped prepare. Honestly, he was surprised the food was still on the table. But it did look good.

Fuyuhiko had handed Hajime a glass, telling him he was certain Hajime would enjoy the taste of this particular alcohol.

It was almost like they were a normal group of college kids on a friday night. They told stupid stories of their past, drank, and ate their hearts out. Occasionally Hajime would let Izuru take control to take a sip of a particularly bitter drink. But all in all no one got too wasted, mostly because Fuyuhiko wouldn’t let them.

Hajime was laughing at one of Kazuichi’s many rejection stories when Sonia tapped a glass with her spoon. Moments like these reminded Hajime of why Sonia was titled after such an impressive talent. It wasn’t simply a role she was born into, she carried all the traits of elegance and leadership in her posture as she gathered everyone’s attention to her. Back straight, and kind smile, Hajime wanted to give his undivided attention.

“Every day I feel so grateful to have become your friends,” She said, “we have all accomplished so much, and we only have more goals to seek in our future.” She turned to face Hajime specifically, “and we have you to thank for that, Hinata-kun.”

“Huh? Me?” Well that wasn’t right. In fact if Hajime hadn’t been so depressed as a teenager Izuru wouldn’t have existed. And then Izuru wouldn’t have helped end the world. And then he wouldn’t have put Junko into the Neo World Program.

Izuru reminded him that if he had refused the project, Hope's Peak Academy would have simply targeted another student.

“Yeah, you!” Akane smiled, punching Hajime hard in the shoulder, “We definitely wouldn’t have left without you!”

Fuyuhiko looked up from where he had been sitting with his arms crossed, “And these idiots would have never figured out the trials without you.”

“It was a team effort.” Hajime tried to stress, “We all have done so much-”

“Bro!” Kazuichi yelled, “Just let us appreciate you, holy shit!”

Hajime laughed as Akane filled up his cup with another round of liquor, “Seriously Hinata, do you ever loosen up? Maybe we need more food.”

Hajime took a sip, cringing a bit at the burn it brought his throat. Akane did always like the more intense stuff. “Did you guys throw this all together just to be nice to me?”

It admittedly was nicer than looking back on the past as they had grown accustomed too after gaining back their old memories. Hajime had to remind himself often to look for the future instead, and it sounded like the others still want to as well.

Sonia’s smile fell from royal elegance to that of a close friend, “it’s almost midnight you know.”

“I wonder what the new year will bring,” Fuyuhiko was watching the red sky through the window, “can’t get worse than this bullshit.”

Fuyuhiko choked as Akane slammed a hand onto his back, “It’s going to be a great year! I can’t wait for coach to wake up! I’ve got so much shit to show him, and Minimaru ain’t as good at massaging.”

“So that’s what this is all about, huh?” Was it really New Years Eve already? Hajime felt like there was something else he was forgetting but before he could think more on it…

“Is everyone ready to count down?” Sonia asked, eliciting sounds of approval (and cheers from one Kazuichi).

“Ten... “Sonia looked at her watch and took charge of the count. She really did make a good leader.

“Nine” All of Hajime’s exhaustion felt lost. It was a short few seconds, but everyone seemed so excitable. It was contagious.

“Eight” The others had gathered close to each other, letting Hajime get a full view of the carefree joy on their faces.

“Seven” He wished he could wake up those unconscious to join them. He’d have to work twice as hard this year to make sure they all got to celebrate together.

“Six” But that was what this was all about anyway. They were looking to the future, just as they had promised in the game.

“Five!” The excitement in their voices grew, Hajime just as loud with them.

“Four!” Because it was more than just about looking to the future.

“Three!” It was about making the future.

“Two!” They were going to take the future in their hands and make it worth living through all that despair.

“One!” And Hajime couldn’t be more thankful to make this future with them.

“Happy Birthday!” “Happy New Year!”

Huh? What? Why did everyone else yell about..?

Everyone was smiling ear to ear. He could see they all had these smug proud expressions as if they’d caught him in the act. Did he..?

“Wait a sec,” Hajime looked at everyone’s faces one by one for any signs of the truth, “is it someone’s birthday…?”

He was met with blank stares. Shit, he must have forgotten someone’s birthday and now he looked like an idiot because he was the only one who didn’t know. Hell he didn’t know it was the 31st until a few moments ago!

Hajime fidgeted, now feeling bad for getting so caught up in work that he’d forget something like this, “I’m...who’s birthday is it? Why did no one tell me... “

Kazuichi was staring at Hajime like he was an idiot, and that was saying a lot, “Dude… it’s your birthday!”

“...Really?”

“Did you forget your own birthday?!” Fuyuhiko yelled, then he turned to Sonia, “I told you this surprise bullshit was stupid.”

“I thought it would be cute… ”

“Man… '' Akane looked flatout depressed, “I held back on eating the cake and everything and you weren’t even happy.”

“What?! No, no, I just-” Hajime pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling embarrassment redden his ears. “I really didn’t know.”

For just a moment Hajime retreated back into his head.

‘Did you know about this, Kamukura?’

‘Of course.’ Izuru had known everything from the moment they had woken up. And he’d known about the party since Sonia had handed them their chores list.

‘And you didn’t tell me..?!’

‘I thought that it would be amusing.’

‘Well. Are you amused?’

‘Predictably… yes.’

Sonia looked down at the floor with a defeated posture, she sunk down into one of the restaurant chairs, “I’m sorry Hinata-kun… the others said we should have just told you about the party but I thought that since… “

Kazuichi propped elbow up on the table, resting his head against his hand. Even he looked defeated, Hajime wondered how much effort they put into this surprise, “We thought since none of us have celebrated our birthdays in years that it’d be nice to make a big deal out of it.”

“Wait, hold on just a second everyone.” They were right, none of them had properly celebrated their birthdays for a few years, Hajime even more since he was quite literally erased, “This all is very sweet! I just… didn’t remember. Usually it’s colder around my birthday…”

It didn’t seem to do much to uplift the mood, but he could see the urge to tease Hajime for his forgetfulness on their faces.

“Really, all of you. This means a lot to me.” Hajime could imagine them formulating their plan for this party. Making sure he was out of the way, getting together to brainstorm different ideas. Not to mention the hand baked cake, he could only imagine what the kitchen must look like right now. He knows they must have put their entire hearts into this. “I’m really lucky to have all of you.”

The others smiled at Hajime, glad to see that their efforts weren’t for nothing. At the end of the day, they had just wanted to make Hajime feel special. And although the surprise wasn't as big of a hit as they had intended it to be, they had the rest of the day to make Hajime feel as special as he really was. Now if only this awkward silence would go away-

“Pah...what’s with all this depressing atmosphere when there’s a perfectly good cake right here in front of us?!” Akane cried out, cutting Hajime a slice before cutting herself a massive piece.

Sonia beamed, hands on her hips, “Owari-san is right! The party must go on!”

“It’s ‘the show must go on’, Sonia.”

And just like that the high energy was back. It may have been twelve in the morning, but all of them were ecstatic as though it was just a fun afternoon. They even had gifts prepared for him, stuff they all had to create themselves since there weren’t exactly any stores open on the island. Sonia had put together a book for him, full of photos of them courtesy of Makoto and the Neo World Program’s leftover data. She left some space in the book for new memories when the others woke up. Akane had gotten him an assortment of pretty shells she’d found along the shoreline. She had also gotten him a rather gross looking squid, claiming she pulled it right out of the ocean for him. Kazuichi had gotten him a handmade phone. He said the internet doesn’t exist still, but he was trying to replicate as much of the fun as he could with his limited coding knowledge. Apparently Alter Ego helped him with that stuff. Fuyuhiko’s was a lot simpler, but he knew it meant a lot. It was a handmade bracelet of twined hay. At Hajime’s confusion, Fuyuhiko had lifted his sleeve to show a matching bracelet on his own wrist. Looking away with a flustered expression on his face, Fuyuhiko had said it was a way to show their brotherhood.

Now Hajime poked at his cake. It wasn’t the best tasting cake he’d ever had. It was messy, and too sweet, and a bit undercooked. But somehow that’s what made it the best cake he had ever had. It was so… homemade. And that’s what made it really special to Hajime. As he ate more of his cake he thought to himself about how they wanted to make his first birthday in years special. Hajime began to dig through his mind for the last memory he had of someone putting in effort for his birthday with little avail. His birthday came right after New Years Eve parties. People were usually too tired to then turn around and celebrate some kids' party. He didn’t have any friends either. There was a reason he specifically was selected for the Kamukura Project. Hajime could have disappeared at any moment, and no fuss would have kicked up a storm. Not even his parents would have batted an eye. Sure, they had spent a monumental sum of money to get him into the reserve course, but that was also the exact reason they had grown to resent him. They spent a fortune to get their useless son an opportunity to become something, and nothing had even changed. Looking back, Hajime’s life had been a lonely mix of drowning in low self esteem and being uncared for.

But now these guys...his closest friends… they were changing everything he knew about his life. Hajime didn’t know it was possible to feel so loved.

‘I have never had cake before’

Oh. That’s right, Izuru was still here. Like he always was. That was another change in his life. Did it have to be so unwelcomed though?

Hajime pulled back to let Izuru take the driver's seat for a moment, watching distantly as he picked up a fork and put it in his mouth.

‘The amount of frosting on this is offensive to the craft of baking.’

‘That must mean you like it, then.’

‘Indeed.’

Izuru continued to eat pieces from his cake. Hajime decided to simply let him, it wasn’t often Izuru found something that interested him. He’s sure in just a few more bites Izuru will give back control willingly once he gets bored of the overly sweet taste. He might as well let Izuru join in the celebration.. Wait…

‘Hey, Kamukura, what about you.’

‘What about me? I am eating cake.’

‘But they’ve only been celebrating me.’

‘That is because it is not my birthday.’

That… did make sense. Just because their body was made on this day didn’t mean Izuru himself was.

‘When is your birthday, then?’

‘I do not see why it matters.’

Moments like these reminded Hajime that although Izuru was a man who had everything, he’d only been living for a few years now. He was sitting here absolutely pleased and amazed with the idea of an overly sweet cake. Had Izuru ever celebrated his own birthday?

‘Just tell me. We’ll celebrate yours when the time comes around.’

‘You cannot throw a celebration for someone who feels nothing.’ Bullshit, Hajime thought. But he kept that one to himself.

‘Humor me, wouldn’t it be interesting to see what we come up with?’ Everyone deserved that chance. If Hajime, the unloved talentless reserve course student could get here, then why couldn’t Izuru?

‘Very well. I first awoke on June Ninth.’

June Ninth. June Ninth. June Ninth. Hajime repeated the date in his head to commit it to memory. Just a month ago, Hajime would have scoffed at the idea of celebrating Izuru’s existence. Maybe his life hadn’t been so unchanging as he thought. Just a month ago, Izuru would have never cared about Hajime’s birthday. It didn’t seem like change was happening on the surface, but they were there. Slowly moving. Always making progress. Is this what hope meant? Would they one day become more than just headmates? Maybe they’d become… friends?

‘I’ll make sure you have a great birthday, Izuru.’

Izuru was smiling just the slightest. Or well, this smile was as wide as it could get when Izuru was the subject matter. ‘Focus on your own birthday for now, Hajime’ that was his way of saying happy birthday, ‘ensure that this year you do not disappoint me with your existence.’

For once Hajime had a strong feeling that he won’t.

#danganronpa #sdr2 #hajime hinata #izuru kamukura #sdr2 spoilers #fanfic #fan fic #should i tag the others? lemmie know lol #happy birthday hinata <33333333333

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sideblogformindtrash · 3 years

Note

please write a follow up with haru!! 🤩🤩🤩

This one is very heavy but also has an aggressive tonal shift in the end because apparently Whumper ! Orfeu is as much of a dumbass as regular one. Idk I just feel like this sort of stupid shit happens far too much.

Anyway the rest of it is pretty heavy.

CW: explicit no-con, nsfw; Stress position; choking; biting; blood; bloodplay; threatening to cut someone’s Achilles tendon, breaking bones; dehumanization; pet whump

At least Blue had gotten a ‘light’ punishment for it. He whimpered, crying as he watched his friend getting beaten… Hating himself for being happy that he decided to stay.

His feet were bleeding. The walk home had been painful, without their shoes, and Haru’s feet were already sensible, all were covered in scar tissue from… From the burns he got last time. Burns and pulled out nails. It wouldn’t be worse than this, would it? It couldn’t be. He had phantom pains from that, even now.

….He was placed on Master’s bed. He’d prefer if it had been the floor, but Master made a point of punishing him on them, ever since he realized Haru was scared of staying in one.

He whimpered softly as Master tied his hands back and pulled them up, his grinding his teeth, forcing him to bend forward. This was one of the worst stress positions to be in, uncomfortably pulling at his back, shoulders and arms. At least he wasn’t tied too high… Although the pain would be unbearable soon enough.

Master lay on the bed in front of him, his head resting on Haru’s knees. He ran a hand through Haru’s cheek, making sure to scratch him.

“Oh dear… Look at you. If only you hadn’t been so bad… We could be cuddling, right now. Having a good time, you know?”

Haru tries to control his tears, because they’ll fall over Master’s face. He really tries. But he can’t. It’s all too much, the fear, the anxiety, sheer hate he feels for himself, for being so stupid and putting him and Blue in this situation. A few drops fall on Master’s cheek… And he smiled.

“Oh, no, no. No crying, baby. We’re not even started yet”

Master started to rub his neck, first just circles on the back of it, but eventually pressing on the base of his throat. Back in his old house, he was only ever drown on water, because they were afraid of ruining his throat. But truth is… they didn’t really have to. Master’s grip wasn’t strong at all. Wouldn’t make bruises or hurt him permanently. It was just enough pressure that he couldn’t breathe. And that was even worse, because it felt like he should be strong enough to do it, to get rid of that pressure, it should be easy.

But it wasn’t. He hated this, hated this, hated this. He had to breathe. He needed to breathe but he couldn’t, and his face was turning purple and he felt like he was about to pass out –

Master released the pressure… He took in as much air as he could, thinking Master would choke him again… But he didn’t. Instead, Master turned around and sank his teeth on the side of Haru’s hip.

He screamed. Probably the loudest he had in ages.

Master took the bite away, licked the blood clean, kissed the mark he left… And made another one, right on the side of the first, as Haru trembled and whimpered, trying to pull away as much as he could without hurting his arms more. By now, they were starting to burn, tightened on that painful position.

He left a whole trail of bite marks from his hip to his crotch, till he was at Haru’s dick. He whimpered, terrified that he would bite that, too. But he didn’t. He started to lick and kiss it, teasingly. Haru closed his eyes. He didn’t want this…. But it was what it was. Pain and pleasure where always deeply entangled on his life.

“…Cute. You are so easy to turn on, dear” Master said, jokingly “…But this is a punishment. If you come today, I won’t let you do it for months”

Haru whimpered. That was a whole new torment, all on its own. He hated when Orfeu kept him like that, just teasing, toying with him and fucking him, but never letting him get off… ‘so you will be cute and desperate for me’. Worst part is it worked. It always got him to act like a dog in heat.

He closed his eyes and just tried to take his mind off the situation, as Master swallowed his cock, but it was very hard to ignore. He was fucking good at that.

When Master got satisfied – and Haru a whimpering, moaning mess, face flushed red, blood dripping from the bites, arms and back sore… He positioned himself behind him.

“I don’t think you deserve any lube, you know?” He whispered near his ear “But…”

Blood. He was using the blood from the fresh wounds, getting it on his hand and his own cock. Of course he didn’t get fingered first or any type of preparation. He had to do that himself, normally, and this time, he was tied up. He wouldn’t dare beg for it. He would need to ask for mercy later.

He whimpered when Master entered him, not really giving him time to adjust before starting to move. He just tried to stay still, not to hurt himself more. Master shoved fingers in his mouth – still coated with his blood – and Haru knew well enough to suck them. His other hand slid to his cock, stroking it.

“You are mine, Haru” Orfeu whispered on his ear “You will never leave. You are mine, and the sooner you accept that, the better”

…He would never leave. He was stupid for trying.

He grunted, and cried, and tried to ignore the mix of sensations. So much fucking pain everywhere …and then Master stroking his cock and moving inside him. It hurt. It really fucking hurt. But somehow it was still stimulating him, bringing him close to the edge and then… just stopping.

…He was bit again, on the crook of his neck. Master loved to bite that spot. It was his favorite place to mark, always visible, like a sign of ownership. His. Haru was his.

He wasn’t sure how long that lasted. It couldn’t have been too long, he was sure, but he was trembling, exhausted, in pain, and very very sensitive as Master pulled out.

Master just sat there for a moment, watching him. Haru didn’t like the smile he had. He reached for his butt again, pressing on old bruises and marks, sliding until he was touching his asshole again. Master shoved a pair of fingers inside him.

It was bad enough that it was sensitive now but…

Nails. The reason why he had to prepare himself every time.

Master’s nails were long and sharp and the edges cut his insides. He held back a scream, as Master scratched his ass, blood starting to drip out of him and down his legs. He couldn’t anymore. Now it was the time to beg. If he could manage, that is.

“P-p-p-p-ple-a-s…”

“Shhh, baby boy” Master sounded amused, as he kept slowly moving his fingers, opening cuts “We’re not done yet. I wanna make sure you learned your lesson”

“Le-lear… P-please…Not… again… W-w-will n---“ He choked on the words, turning into incoherent sobbing. Useless. Useless to even beg.

“…I don’t know about that. I was thinking about cutting off that little tendon on your feet..”

No. No. No, no no, no. Not that. Please. Not that.

“P-ple…a…”

“If you expected mercy” Master leaned closer and kissed his cheeks “You shouldn’t have run from me. I can forgive mistakes, but that wasn’t it. You disrespected me. That was not a ‘mistake’. That was one calculated little plan…”

And Master finally took his fingers out of him, and ran them through Haru’s hair, staining the white curls in blood. The pain didn’t stop. It was nearly worse.

“But maybe… Maybe if you are really, really good the next few days, if you show you have learned I’ll only break-“ He stopped, fingers on Haru’s face “…OH no”

Haru gulped, trying to look back and see why Master’s tone changed so aggressively. He looked pale…

Haru let out a loud sob as Master shoved his fingers inside him again, this time way less deliberate, almost clumsy. It was a few minutes of this, until Master… Released him, hands still tied on his back but at least now they weren’t stretched. It was a second of intense pain… and then some relief, so much he shivered. But this was off. He was expecting to be left like that for a least a couple of hours.

Master pulled his ass up, he’d be on fours if not tied. He closed his eyes, trying to not think of the pain, not think of the threat – if Master really did that… Haru would never walk again.

He heard an annoyed sigh, and Master sitting back against the pillows, finally stopping touching him.

Slowly, very slowly, he dared to go back on his knees and face Master, thinking of ways to show his submission. He knew now that trying to run had been a stupid whim of his. He belonged here. He wouldn’t defy Master again. Master who was staring blankly at the ceiling…

“…Come, I’ll help you take a shower” He sighed, getting up, much to Haru’s confusion. He pulled the pet closer, lifting him from the bed and carrying him to the bathroom, pulling him on the bathtub.

He closed his eyes. Breathe. He couldn’t panic now, he had to be good. If Master decided to drown him… so be it. At least his arms were free and resting now, and he wasn’t talking about cutting his tendon anymore.

Still, the water on his wounds hurt like hell. Moving hurt like hell, and sitting on the bathtub was torture. His insides were torn to shreds. Master started to clean him with a sponge. Gentle. He was being so damn gentle…

“M-mas…ter?” He dared.

“I’m not going to drown you now. You deserve it, but…I need to clean you up so we can go to the hospital”

…Hospital? So he was going to really cut his tendon? Haru started to panic, he tried to beg again, but no voice came out, just a strangled breath, his chest was tight, he couldn’t breathe, he-

“I’m not going to hurt you any more today, that is, if you behave”

He needed a moment to take those words in, as Master rubbed some shampoo on his hair. He would have appreciated this if… if it wasn’t for the entire rest of the situation.

‘Why?’ he gestured. Master hadn’t given him permission to but… he dared just that one.

“Because I’m an idiot”

Master lift his hand. Haru flinched and closed his eyes, waiting for the slap but that didn’t happen.

He peeked. Master was just holding his hand in the air. One of his acrylic nails was missing, those black sharp awful things. They’d always fall out after a month, maybe two, and he would re-do them. Except he had them all before... Oh.

Master sighed, pulled his head closer and slapped a kiss on his forehead.

“…That’s going to get infected” He whispered “And I can’t get it out myself, so… I’ll get to you the hospital. Maybe you need stitches, too”

Haru looked around the soapy water. Master actually cared about them… At least a little bit. He bit back a smile.

#orfeu whumper au

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shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 4 years

Text

lay over

Peter Quill x Reader

Prompt: “am i your lock screen?” “you weren’t supposed to see that.”

Requested by: @starlord7555

Summary: five years after the battle of earth, you are helping run the avengers and find yourself looking forward to every brief visit the team gets from your galactic counterparts.

Warnings: smut, fluff, vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), shower sex, unprotected sex, sexual over-stimulation, adult language,

Word Count: 4,099

Got a Request? Prompt List: here

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a/n: full disclosure, I have not proof-read this but I’m too tired to do so and overdue on posting. Enjoy :)

“You know, I could spend every day for the next ten years training my ass off, but I still don’t think I’d ever actually win one of these no-powers-allowed fights.” you pointed out jokingly as you pushed yourself back up off the floor, having just been knocked on your ass by Peter Parker. You brushed a few wayward strands of hair out of your face with the back of your hand, and he bounced happily on his heels as the two of you caught your breath. “Not while you’ve got those super-special-spidey reflexes playing in your favor.”

He grinned back at you, one corner of his mouth rising in a crooked, charming smirk. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his brow and the same was darkening the collar of his shirt and the curls of his hair. The two of you had been sparring for the last hour and a half, and you knew you looked worse than he did.

“No, but it’s cute that you keep trying,” he replied in an easy taunt. His smile widened when you rolled your eyes at him, and he laughed cheerfully before conceding, “Your reaction time is getting better.”

“Thanks.” The two of you began trading blows again, and you flinched away when he landed a hit on your shoulder. “How do they not count as a superpower, by the way?”

Peter shrugged, ducking under a wide swing you threw, using the movement to sidestep and get behind you. You turned quickly on the ball of your foot, catching him by surprise with a spinning kick. ‘It’s not like I can turn them off. Besides, I don’t need them to kick your ass.”

The two of you were dressed for training, and at twenty-one, Peter Parker was a more capable opponent than ever. His shoulders had broadened slightly in the last five years, his muscles more defined and his hair worn a little longer. Still, he had the same almost lanky frame, and the same soft, disarming features he’d had when you’d first met him.

You’d been the same age before the Blip, and he’d been the one to introduce you to Tony Stark and the rest of the Avengers before Thanos’ attack after he’d caught you using your abilities at school. Hell, it was his heightened senses that had tipped him off about you in the first place. But he’d disappeared during the Blip and you had remained, aging five years before you got to see him again. It had been more than a little disconcerting for him when he’d returned. Still, despite that adjustment you were as close a pair of friends as ever, and as some of the longest serving members of the Avengers, you spent a lot of your free time together.

You were living at the compound full time, leading the team alongside Sam and Bucky. Peter was attending classes at NYU and still living with his aunt, but he was at the compound at least three times a week, often working out of the labs Tony had set up with him years ago to upgrade and experiment with tech. the only person he might have spent more time with lately than you might have been Bruce.

“Don’t get cocky, web-head.” you snarked back at him as the two of you circled each other slowly, eyeing his movements warily. Peter had been thoroughly beating you for the entire training session, but only just. His heightened reflexes meant that he would always beat you in a fight where you couldn’t use your abilities, but you’d spent the last two months focusing on your hand-to-hand combat with Bucky, and it showed. “You know I’d destroy you in a real fight.”

“Oh, c’mon. We’re like fifty-fifty.” he argued, dodging another kick you aimed at him. It was true; your abilities might make you hard to pin down and give you a definite edge in a fight, but his spider-sense meant he was able to keep up. It also made the two of you a hell of a pair in a battle. “And I’ve got some new tech you haven’t seen yet.”

“Ooh, color me intrigued.”

“I’ll show you la—” he stopped suddenly, straightening and turning towards the windows. “EDITH?”

“Nothing to – A ship has just entered the atmosphere above us.” the A.I. corrected itself midsentence calmly.

“That spidey-sense of yours never ceases to amaze, Pete.” you told him as the two of you moved to the windows. Picking something up before EDITH’s sensors was impressive to say the least. You both craned your necks to watch the sky, and a smile slowly grew on your face as a ship came into a view.

“Did you know they were coming?”

You shook your head, eyes still on the sky. “I haven’t had an alert over the comm system in weeks, not even from Wakanda. EDITH, send a message out to everyone on the current residential list; tell them to expect company when they get home. And contact FRIDAY; I’m sure Pepper will want to bring Morgan by once school lets out.”

“Right away.”

Peter rolled his eyes in amusement as he watched you bounce in place. “You really have no chill when it comes to this guy, you know.”

“Shut up, Parker,” you shot back. “You’re just worried you’re my second favorite Peter.”

You winked at him cockily as his mouth fell open in mock-offense. You pointed finger guns at him, snapping your fingers and disappearing with a muted popping sound. You reappeared in the same second, now standing at the front door downstairs. You could barely make out Peter’s answering bellow as he came thundering down the stairs after you, no doubt exasperated at your sudden teleportation. You heard a dull thump; rather than take the time to walk down the stairs, he’d clearly jumped the rail to the landing below.

“I better not be!”

***

Peter Quill was one of the last to saunter out onto the lawn from the ship, a cocky smirk on the edge of his lips and his eyes squinting against the afternoon sun. The light caught in his hair as he joined the other Guardians on the grass, blonde shining honey gold. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling a long breath of air of his home planet. His smile broadened as he opened his eyes and caught sight of you, stepping out of the main building, Peter Parker by your side.

You cast a brief glance over the rest of his team, your gaze lingering on Gamora for a moment. She stood beside her sister, her expression a polite kind of friendly. She nodded in greeting when she caught your eye, and you turned gaze back to Quill. “This is unexpected.”

He shrugged a shoulder, stepping forward until he was barely three feet from you. “We were in the area,” he replied easily, and Rocket scoffed beside him, rolling his eyes.

“No, we weren’t.” Drax corrected him, genuinely confused by Quill’s claim. “You said you wanted to see Y/N.”

Quill rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Drax, c’mon, man.”

Your lips quirked to one side in amusement. “You could have let us know you were coming.”

“Why, you got plans?”

Your teeth caught your bottom lip as your smile widened, and you jerked your head toward the man standing beside you. “Peter was going to show me some new tech, but I’m sure he’d prefer Rocket’s opinion.”

The raccoon’s ears flicked forward in interest; his eyebrow cocked. “Yeah?”

Peter nodded, an almost boyish excitement lighting his features. And despite Rocket’s brash, dismissive attitude towards Earth’s current level of tech, he was always more than happy to offer his opinion and advice to your crime-fighting partner – even if it came with a healthy dose of sarcasm and derision. “I’ve been playing with some new ideas, working on my own version of those suspension traps you showed me last time. Wider range, triggered by sudden displacement and reappearance of body heat.”

You smacked his arm. “You sneaky son of a bitch. That’s how you were going to beat me?”

“You and anyone else faster than me,” he shot back with a wink.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Oh, honey. I’m still gonna find a way to kick your ass.”

“Now who’s getting cocky?”

You snickered, shaking your head and turning to head back into the building. The Guardians followed after you, and both Peters fell into step close behind you. “Help yourselves to anything in the kitchen, and you’re welcome to any of the amenities on the grounds. If you need supplies, give the list to EDITH; she can have pretty much anything delivered from the city within the hour.”

“Mr. Barnes and Mr. Wilson are on their way back to the compound now,” the A.I. announced coolly as you came to stop in the foyer. “Dr. Banner should be here by nightfall. I took the liberty of notifying the Langs, but they are currently unavailable.”

“Thanks, EDITH.”

“Mrs. Stark is on her way.”

You turned to Nebula. “I thought you might want to see Morgan. She asks about you whenever I see her.”

The woman nodded, a grateful, awkward smile on her face. “Thank you.”

Quill stepped into your side as the others dispersed, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. “It’s so hot when you get all commander-in-charge like that.”

You scoffed a laugh, pushing him away. “Cool your jets, Space Cowboy. I need a shower.”

***

Your breath left you in catching moan as your back met the tiles behind you, melting into a giddy laugh before your lips were crushed in a kiss by the man holding you against the wall. You wrapped your arms around Quill’s neck, one hand sliding through the hair at the back of his head as he slid his tongue into your mouth. His body pressed hard against your own, his naked thigh pushing between your legs to press against your sex.

The hot water hammered down on the two of you, your whole body warm and tingling with his touch. His lips left yours to tease the side of your throat, his teeth grazing against your pulse point and up to your earlobe as his hand slid down over your naked hip, slick with vanilla and jasmine bodywash. He took hold of your thigh, hitching it up against his side.

You moaned again, louder than before, grinding down on his thigh. You grabbed hold of his bicep for leverage, rolling your hips into him. You other hand fumbled down his stomach, nails grazing over his abs before your fingers encircled the base of his cocked and squeezed. Peter grunted against the curve of your collarbone in approval as you stroked him slowly. He palmed your breast roughly with one hand, biting down on your shoulder. “Holy shit, I’ve missed you.”

You smiled, breath catching and head tilted back, your eyes closed against the spray of the shower. You gave his cock a playful squeeze. “I noticed.”

Peter snickered, his laughter catching as you swiped your thumb over the head of his cock. He pinched your nipple hard in response and you gasped, hips faltering for a moment. His lips finally found yours again as the roll of your hips became hurried and more disjointed, your breath quickening. His tongue slid over your own almost languidly, his stubble scratching at your chin. You carded your fingers through his hair and his hand slid back up your side, tickling at your waist before he took hold of you hip again.

His grip was hard, enticingly strong, his fingers digging into your flesh as he forced your movements to stop and pinned you harder against the wall. You couldn’t help the whine of complaint you made in response, and he broke the kiss, chest heaving for a moment as he caught his breath. He paused long enough to shoot you a cocky wink before he fell to his knees in front of you.

Peter pressed a kiss to the skin below your navel, inhaling through his nose to drink in the scent of you before burying his face between your thighs. His tongue curled around your clit and he pressed his forearm to your stomach, hand clutching at your hip, holding you in place as you tried to buck up against his mouth. His other hand travelled up the back of your leg, hooking under your knee and hooking it over his shoulder.

You gripped blindly at the top of the shower partition for balance, your other hand fisting in his hair. Peter hummed against you, hand moving up your thigh to caress your ass. He broke away from your cunt to press teasing, biting kisses to your inner thigh, his hand moving from your ass to roll his fingers over your clit, soaking them in your arousal before burying two of them inside you. He sucked a mark into your thigh, and your eyes rolled back as he returned his talented mouth to your clit.

Peter tortured you like that, fucking you slowly with his mouth and hand until the leg you stood on was shaking and your hand was so tight in his hair your fingers were cramping. You’d come more than once, every high he brought your to only half gone before he began building you to another.

“Pete—fuck, Peter…” you groaned through gritted teeth, moaning when he hummed against you in response. You tugged his head back forcefully, pursing your lips to hide a smile when he grinned cockily up at you, eyes squinting against the spray of the shower. He reached down to fist his cock in his hand, withdrawing his fingers from you to pinch your clit instead. His smirk widened when you jerked in response. “Quill, if you don’t hurry up and fuck me right now, I swear to whatever god you believe in, I—”

Peter was on his feet before you could finish your threat, taking hold of your thighs and lifting you. Your surprise at the sudden shift bubbled out of you in a laugh, and you wrapped your legs around him. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip as his hands squeezed your ass reflexively. Peter pressed his forehead to your own, nuzzling his nose against yours. “You know I’m half-god, right?”

“And all cheeseball,” you retorted jokingly, grinning as his jaw dropped in mock offense. You grinned, pulling him into another kiss, the gesture long, languid and yet still almost aching with need. He groaned into it as you reached down to take hold of his shaft, stroking him slowly and shuddering as the head of it pressed into you.

Peter spoke again, his breathless voice teasing, affectionate and cocky. “Just remindin’ you in case you feel the need to invoke a god’s name in the next few minutes or so.”

You smacked his chest, your response melting into a moan that he echoed as he lowered you onto his cock. His lips found yours in a harsh, despite kiss as he began to fuck you in long, steady strokes.

“How are you always so fucking tight?” he muttered, his lips brushing against your sternum. He dragged his face your nipple, stubble grazing along the wet, sensitive skin before he sucked into his mouth. He circled it with his tongue, catching it between his teeth and tugging. You grabbed at his shoulder, your other hand returning to the top of the partition to leverage yourself over him. You pushed your hips into his with every thrust, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing off the tile. “You keep squeezing me like that, sweetness, and I’m not gonna last as long as I’d like…”

You caught his earlobe between your teeth for a moment before speaking in his ear, a shiver running down his back. “I’m not kicking you out right away, Star Lord… you’ll get another go ‘round. Just make this one good.”

Peter growled into your neck, biting down hard enough to make you gasp. He kissed you again, roughly, his hips pounding into yours. Any break to breathe was filled with cursing and grunting moans, almost obnoxiously loud in the steam-filled room. You jerked suddenly as overwhelming sensation met your clit, your body arching into his as your toes curled and your whole body tightened. He’d unhooked the detachable showerhead from above you, turned it to jet and brought it down to your clit, and you could feel his smirk against your lips as you came again.

Each bounce on his cock brought the rush of water back over your clit, and your nails scored his shoulders and back as you clung to him. You released him only to grope at his wrist, urging the showerhead away from you. But Peter shook his head, lips teasing along your jaw.

“Not a chance, sweets.” he growled, his other hand tightening almost painfully on your ass. “You don’t get to stop coming until I’m finished.”

You whined in response, hips seizing as another wave hit you. Peter groaned as you tightened around him, his thrusts losing their rhythm for a moment. You arched your neck back, eyes half closed, and Peter’s lips found your throat once more, sucking a mark into the skin below your jaw. “Fuck, Peter… I can’t…”

“Hold out for me, Y/N.” he murmured back, barely audible over the sound of the water. It was beginning to cool, running too long, sending goosebumps over your over-sensitized skin. Your nipples brushed against his chest with every thrust, your hair slick and sticking to your neck. “I’m so close, baby… I’m so fucking close, baby. God—”

The showerhead clattered against the wall as Peter released it, his hips almost buckling as he finally came, his face buried in the side of your neck. You whimpered, body shaking with aftershocks as he lowered you to the floor, hands pressed to the walls for support, your body held up by his still pressed against yours.

He kissed your cheek, giggling almost deliriously in your ear as the two of you caught your breath. His hands came to rest on your hips, trailing over the skin carefully to your waist. You slung an arm around his neck, pulling him into a kiss, reaching past him with your other hand to turn off the shower. “It’s good to see you too, Peter.”

***

You scrubbed a towel through your hair, sitting at your vanity and watching Peter through the mirror. You’d dressed in a pair of shorts and an old tee shirt, and EDITH had announced that all but Bruce had since arrived at the compound. “So, how far out of your way did you go this time?”

Peter shrugged, nodding absentmindedly along to the music you had playing, his own hair an endearing tangle of still-damp curls. He was stretched out on your bed, a towel wrapped around his waist and his back pressed against the headboard and pillows. He had one hand tucked behind his head, the smallest of smirks on his lips. “A day or two. Maybe more.”

“So, you’re thinking about hanging around then?” you asked, turning around to face him, leaving your towel on the vanity. “You keep doing this and that crew of yours is going to hate me.”

Peter chuckled, shaking his head. “We’re between jobs. We’ve just been paid; they could use a few days leave.”

“And the free room and supplies just made us all the more appealing, huh?” you teased, moving towards the bed.

“And a couple of other things.” he held a hand out to you and you took it, making yourself comfortable and curling up into his side. He draped his arm around your shoulders, and you didn’t release his hand, holding it by your shoulder.

You smiled, but the expression slowly faded into something more somber as a thought returned to you. “So… Gamora…?” Peter exhaled, a crease forming between his brows. “I take it you two…”

He shook his head. “She’s… she’s sticking around for Nebula. And we’re friendly, it’s just…” He sighed, but his voice wasn’t pained like it had been in the past. “Sometimes, she’s so close to who I remember. Which makes sense, I guess. She’s the same person, but… she’s not. Whatever we went through, whatever it is that made the old Gamora love me, she doesn’t have that, she didn’t go through the same stuff. So, she doesn’t see me the same way as the other Gamora did. And she can’t even… she doesn’t know that Gamora. She can’t see what we had. The whole thing is like… she told me, hearing the stories, it’s like I’m talking about somebody else. Someone she’s never met. And she’s right.”

“Peter, I’m sorry.” You murmured, leaning your head against his shoulder. You squeezed his hand gently. “I thought maybe… it’s been three years since you found her, and with Nebula wanting to stay with you guys—”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” he assured you softly, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple before resting his chin on top of your head. “Like I said, she’s not the same. She’s not the person I… my Gamora is gone. And it might’ve taken a while, but I… I get that. It just took me a while to wrap my head around it.”

The two of you fell silent for a while, the weight of the conversation settling over you like a blanket. You played with his fingertips absentmindedly, eyes unfocused.

“You hungry?”

You looked up, offering him a warm smile. “Starved.”

Peter’s face broke into a cocky, teasing smirk. “Yeah, you are.”

You scoffed at him, elbowing him in the side. He laughed, shying away from you, arm withdrawing from your shoulders. “We can order from that steakhouse; get it delivered?”

“Works for me.”

“And you won’t even have to put pants on,” you teased, laughing as he poked you in the side in retaliation. “Is it too early to order? Hand me my phone?”

Peter picked it up from your bedside table, the screen lighting up as he did. You snatched it out of his hand quickly, your cheeks warming slightly. A surprised, smug grin slowly bloomed on Peter’s face. “Am I your lock screen?”

“…You weren’t supposed to see that.” you admitted awkwardly, face flushed. Your background picture was a photo of the two of you that you’d taken on a previous visit; grinning at the camera like fools, caught up in the music you’d been blasting at two a.m. He’d been emulating everything he thought a Rockstar should be, over the top and frankly, adorable. You pushed yourself away from him, moving to clamber back off the bed and away from the embarrassment of being caught out. “It’s not a big deal, I just thought it was a good picture, and—”

He caught hold of your wrist, dragging you back to him. He pulled you on top of him, legs on either side of his, trapping you there with hands on your waist. “Come with me.”

“What?”

“Come with me,” he repeated, his expression surprisingly earnest. He released your waist to take hold of your hands instead, enclosing them between both of his. “Come see the universe.”

“Quill, you’re being—”

“C’mon, Y/N.” he insisted, his tone an almost boyish excitement at the idea. “It’ll be great! You and me and the whole universe to see. You’ll love it, I promise.”

“Peter, I—” you struggled to find the words, taken aback by his sudden proclamation. This was something you thought about, late at night when you were too tired to think of all the reasons it wouldn’t work. “I ha-have responsibilities, here. I can’t just—”

“Just think about it,” he urged, his head ducked down to meet yours beseechingly. “We could be like this all the time. We could… we could be together.”

“And… you want that?” you couldn’t help but ask. You knew Peter’s reputation – Drax and Rocket had alluded to it more than enough – and up until now you weren’t entirely sure if you were his only… hell, you didn’t know what to call it.

He nodded, hands tightening slightly on your own. “We fit, you and me.” you swallowed, halfway torn between running from the room declaring your avenging too important and throwing yourself into his arms. “Just… say you’ll think about it? Please?”

After a moment, you nodded slowly, wetting your lips nervously. “I’ll think about it.”

tags: @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink

If you would like to be tagged in future peter quill stories, or in my marvel stories in general, please send me an ask :) I hope you enjoyed it, and please like/reblog/comment :)

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purge-that-urge-rhackathon · 3 years

Text

Spoons? What spoons?

Hi yall! Been meaning to check in for a while :3 put under a read more cuz goddamn it has been a while.

SO when last we met LOLOL or some other opener... xD

Dad

Dad’s doing as well as can be expected. His brain is more or less getting back to normal (mom says its not; I told her she’s just seeing him for the first time proper and all the cruel shit he’s saying/doing is very much in-character for him when he’s not always stoned, but thanks to therapy I have the words and stuff to communicate all that abusive shit to her now; I love him but I hate him but we’ll touch on that xD). He’s had three amputations so far and he’s developed osteomyelitis (bone infection) so he’s been doing 2hr ‘dives’ in the Hyperbaric chamber every other day to fight it up to 10 dives. I’m told its $200,000 treatment which their new health insurance is fully paying for cuz one surgery already hit the $20,000 premium (don’t even get me started on THAT fight I had to do to get them signed up so we’d still have a place to live- they don’t ‘believe’ in insurance cuz they dont know shit... lawsuits are still pending and will be for the next 2-3yrs i expect). So... yeah. Mom has stepped up with a lot of stuff and she’s better educated on it all too thank fuck.

Thank fuck for therapy

The entire time dad’s stuff has been taking place, I’ve been attempting therapy, which was never explained to me properly/offered of ‘why am i here’ sort of thing, soooo about 4months (5-6 sessions of 30min therapy) turned out to be a COMPLETE waste of time. I’m on mediCal and the clinic they assigned me to only deals with mild-moderate trauma and can only see me for max. of six months when most patients make an improvement. Asking the therapist when we’d actually get to the trauma and triggers and all the other shit I’ve been pursuing therapy for two years over resulted in some clarity and I’ve been putting off making the phone call X_X My therapist only deals with singular trauma, and she said I have complex/multiple trauma with PTSD, and there’s no possible way (in my opinion and hers as well) I’d get any modicum of ‘better’ in six months cuz I’m too damaged, so like... that’s fun to know. I’ve been living in denial about my quality of life for decades and hearing it from a professional has considerably destroyed my sense of self (as it should tbh cuz these rose colored glasses are made of broken bottles LOL). Everything about myself revolves around survival tactics so I’m kind of floundering about living in lies (cuz coming to terms with trauma you’ve convinced yourself doesn’t actually bother you too much will do that, and ‘fawning’ is apparently one of the flight/fight responses and hardcore how i’ve lived these past decades) sooooo that’s what I’m dealing with and it’s super painful to come to terms with. If you’ve ever had to eat fast-food ketchup packets cuz you’re so hungry as a child and there’s nothing else you can have and they’re free, WELP then you might have a very very small window of what my quality of life has been like (: and me and my sister just thought we were fat kids for always being hungry constantly LOL

Also thank fuck for brain medication

On the good news end, I’ve officially been medicated just over 2months for my adhd :D I’m on atomoxetine (strattera) and it’s COMPLETELY gotten rid of my executive dysfunction, I can get up in the morning regardless of how much sleep I’ve gotten, and I have much more energy and motivation to do stuff :) My medication isn’t a stimulant but works on the adrenal glands (which I suspected from various other body ailments might be the source of a LOT of my problems-- especially the chronic fatigue- and if the meds took them away, then I was right, and they did, so.... adrenal gland fixer yay!) and anyways it’s improved life a lot. It gives me goosebumps sometimes too which is funny but I’m real happy with it. If anyone has any questions, I’ve always been a loud mouth irl about my disorders in order to be visible and unashamed for others, and I’ve helped a lot of peers irl with mental bullshit and I’m always willing to pay it forward! :)

The doom and gloom stuff xD

I’m trying to get back into writing. Desperately. I spend time at night writing a couple of sentences when it’s quiet, but then I usually pass out in five minutes cuz tbh I don’t really sleep anymore and I haven’t since dad’s accident so progress on my creative endeavors is going very very slow. Lord knows I have the fucking time rn. I’ve been getting one shift a week at work since June cuz there’s NO hours, so I’m freaking out about money (i’m probably gonna open commissions again), and my life, and my age, and how I’ll never get out of fucking debt at this rate, and how I’m so fucking mentally fucked cuz I can’t do two/three jobs with my fucking adhd and shit, and I want to move out but I can’t live with other people cuz of the aforementioned trauma/distrust and it’s not like anywhere is affordable anyways in this hell country soooo. Yeah. I’m at the point of taking out balance transfers from credit cards to deposit cash into my bank account cuz i can’t fucking survive otherwise and I guess I’ll figure that out next month. I joke around but are any of you an escort/have you done that kind of work before/could I ask questions? >_> I need options. If I could sell an organ for about $25k i’d just do that but i AM desperate and I’m open to any and all suggestions for quick cash no matter how demeaning. Can’t demean someone who’s used to it all their life! :D Real talk tho i’m not kidding, if anyone could point me to some resources, DM me :|

So yeah that’s what’s up in a nutshell. Really REALLY wanna write and finish some shit... existential dread and basic survival is getting in the way of that. Bear with me though, it’s been a very very tough year but nothing has been abandoned and I’m definitely around. Just rarely have the spoons to do shit :D

#poisonjack jabbers #you'd never guess i once had a million-dollar life insurance policy would you? or a government job with perks. fuck i miss japan.#i've got 4 side hustles that bring in maybe $200 every other month/every three months and its low maintenance but it aint enough #i promise im not miss negativity i'm just burnt out and disappointed with myself that im not doing more while i have the time :\#i'd love to go back to bartending but i can't mask anymore and most of the assholes at bars rn are unvaxxed and im vaxxed but still at risk #theres a bikini bar in town i thought to apply to but i need to lose some weight first before they'll accept me and thats hard x_x #anywho im pretty certain im gonna open fic commissions again sooooo thats something :D

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bangtanloverboys · 4 years

Text

what are friends for // jhs

summary - it was a known fact that an effect testosterone has on some people includes being horny; thankfully, you have a friend to help you out

pairing - roommate/fwb!hoseok x transmale!reader

genre - smut, minor fluff at end; friends with benefits au

word count - 2.1k

warnings - mentions of masturbation and sex toys, showerhead masturbation, minor description of trans male genitalia, mentions of surgical scars, fingering kinda, daddy kink, minor nipple play, minor over stimulation, you are hoseok’s good boy, mention of male masturbation, aftercare

author’s note - this is my first submission for the BTS Ghostie Writer’s Bingo, for the tile “friends with benefits”, and i decided to do it as my first smut so. . .yay? i would also like to mention that in this fic, reader has been on testosterone for a while and after being on testosterone for a while there is such thing as bottom growth (i.e. the clitoris enlarges) so that is what i mean by “description of trans male genitalia”. if you’re a trans man reading this and are uncomfortable with things like that, i suggest you move on as i do not want you to risk becoming dysphoric.

You wanted to bang your head against the wall and cry, your body was screaming for attention and touch. This was one of the few setbacks of being on testosterone, you were horny almost constantly or at random points throughout the day.

At first, you dealt with it a somewhat normal way. You would touch yourself when you were alone and that seemed to solve it for a while. Eventually though, you needed more. Your own hand wasn’t enough. You got a vibrator, then a dildo and soon those things too no longer felt satisfactory. That is until Hoseok came into the picture.

Hoseok was your college roommate, while initially you were a bit scared to come out to him. Coming out was always a scary thing, but when you already were passing as a cis guy, you didn’t want anyone to look at you any different. But when you eventually told Hoseok, he was very chill about it and was very supportive of you.

Quickly the two of you became fast friends, even deciding to live together in an apartment not far from the university you both attended. During this time, Hoseok was very understanding of your random shifts with hunger and hot flashes, what you tried desperately to keep away from him though was your horniness.

It really didn’t help that Hoseok was hot as hell, he was downright sinful in general. The way he did dishes, the way he studied in the library, hell the way he drove was hot and drove you bonkers. You tried all your methods previously to try and lose Hoseok from your mind, but none availed. You were ultimately fucked with a hot ass roommate and no full way to satisfy it. That is until he heard you one night.

You were per usual routine to try and jerk off while you assumed Hoseok was asleep, little did you know he could hear you from his room and you slowly drove him insane with your whimpers and moans. It wasn’t until you let his name slip from your lips a bit too loudly when you heard a “Fuck it” come from his room, when he opened the door to your room, his eyes dark and his stature was stiff. He made his way over to your bed and looked you dead in the eyes and gave you two options. One, come to him and let him help you get off. Or two, if you don’t want to, just be quiet.

That was the easiest choice you were ever given.

The past several months, you and Hoseok came to an agreement of whenever either of you were horny, you’d come to each other and it seemed to work out pretty swimmingly. Hoseok was everything you needed to keep you satisfied so you were happy and content.

But now, you were in a major predicament. He was out for the weekend and you were suffering now. While the two of you have fucked around a lot, you never knew was his boundaries came to for phone sex so in an effort to avoid that conversation on grounds that he didn’t want to, you didn’t call him. Or contact him in general because the mere thought of Hoseok right now had you squirming.

In a last ditch effort to gain any sort of release, you decided to take a shower. Initially you were going to take a cold shower to possibly cool down but again your body betrayed you and put the water on hot.

When you deemed the water ready, you stripped down and got into the shower. Instantly groaning as you felt the hot water flow down your body. Hoseok was away for barely 2 days and already you missed his touch, the warm water was barely making a good substitute for him but it was doable. As you stood there in the stream, you let your hands slowly travel around your torso. You let out a soft sigh as you lightly drag your fingers underneath your scars.

Slowly you let your hand travel lower, and lower reaching your core. Your indeed finger swirled around your swollen nerve ending. Groaning at the sensation, you lean your head back and feel the water cascade down your chest. As you draw small circles over your nerve, you eye the shower head. . . Hmmm. . .

You stop your ministrations and pull the removable showerhead from it’s hold. With the water closer to you, the water feels warmer and the stream is soothing against your skin. You move the shower head lower and closer to your heat. When you feel the water against you, you let out a loud moan. It may not be Hoseok, but it will do for now.

You lean back against the shower as you gently make circles around your core with the stream of water. When that no longer felt like enough, your thumb found the spray nozzle. With a couple turns, the steady stream of water came out faster. At the sudden change of pressure, you moaned even louder, bringing the shower head closer to you. After a few minutes of keeping the jet as close to your nerve as possible, you could feel yourself teetering on the line of an orgasm but it never comes.

As you try your best to get yourself off, you barely hear the door to the apartment unlocking and your roommate calling out, “I’m home!”

Verging on tears, you call out for him, the lack of an orgasm. “Hoseoookk~” Through the frosted glass of the shower door, you can see the door to the bathroom open, cold air suddenly filling the steamy room.

“Y/N? You okay there?” He calls out to you, not opening the door quiet yet.

“No- Need you. . . needy Daddy. . .” With that simple word, you watched the figure in front of the glass change his demeanor. He straightened his shoulders and you watched as he started stripping from his clothes.

When Hoseok opened the door to the shower, he was exposed to you still leaning against the wall, clutching the shower head to your bundle of nerves. “Oh did baby boy get into some trouble when I was away?” You nod to answer his question. “Aww, I’m sorry. Daddy’s here. Daddy’s here to help you.” Hoseok said as he walked into the steaming chamber. You watched as he lowered his head to yours and captured your lips in a wet and sloppy kiss. You moan into the kiss as you take your free hand and thread it through his dark locks.

Hoseok took the showerhead from you, causing you to whine as the pressure was removed from your core. He tsked at you, “Patience baby.” Immediately you shut up and took whatever he was planning to do to you. With now both of your hands free though, you keep your hands in his hair, keeping your hands snug, knowing he likes that. You can feel him smirk against your lips as you tugged on his hair.

Slowly but surely, he started paying attention to your enlarged nerve with his hand. Lightly pulling and fiddling with it between his thumb and index finger, causing you to moan against his lips. “More, please more.” Hoseok thankfully obliged by pressing more kisses to your jawline and throat. He removed his hand from you but quickly replaced it with the shower head, the quick change in pace sending waves of shock throughout your body. His head moved down your chest, leaving small love bites around your collarbones and shoulders. The heat in the shower plus the warmth of Hoseok’s body pressed against you cause you to feel sweat start to drip down the side of your face.

“Baby boy is so worked up, can’t cum without Daddy’s help?” You heard him mumble before wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. You could feel his teeth bite down ever so slightly then lapping against it with his tongue in an effort to soothe the pain he caused.

“No, need you. Always need you,” you cried in desperation as Hoseok brought the shower head closer and closer to where you needed him most. He moved the jetstream in small little circles, tightening the familiar coil in your gut. You were getting closer and he could tell, having his other hand snake behind you to give your ass a quick squeeze, pushing out another moan.

“Are you gonna cum? Gonna cum like a good boy?” You heard him rasp from below you, you let your head fall down so you can look him in the eyes, giving him full view of your fucked out face.

“Yes, yes! I’m a good boy! I’m your good boy!” The words tumble out of your mouth as you feel the coil snap, your nerve endings quivering against the jet of water that continues to be pressed against you. Your grip on Hoseok’s hair tightens as he doesn’t remove the shower head, just listening to you cry and whine as you cum. As tears slowly start to fall from your eyes, you feel the jetstream be removed from your spent heat. Quickly as he can, you watch Hoseok turn off the water and pull you into his arms.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. You were so good. I’m so proud of you.” He pressed a kiss to the shell of your ear. He slowly led you out of the shower and sat you down on the toilet, obviously not trusting your legs to hold you up. He grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist then another one, a more fluffy one, and wrapped it around your shoulders, drying you off all while whispering words of affirmation and care.

Once you were mostly dry, Hoseok helped you into the T-shirt and boxers he stripped himself of when he entered the bathroom then led you towards your room. He laid you down on your bed, tucking you in and pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, saying he’ll be back in a moment. You gave a quick nod as you watched him leave. You could hear him bustle about in the kitchen as he poured a glass of what you can only assume is water and pulled something from the cabinet. When he returned he did indeed have a glass of water and a small tray of cookies. “Drink the water and nibble on the cookies, I’ll be right back alright.” He pressed another kiss to your forehead as you took a sip from the glass.

You followed his instruction and ate a few of the cookies, the sugar slowly waking you back up. You could hear the shower was on again and you were a bit confused as you thought he turned it off but after a split second you heard Hoseok let out a loud groan you realized what he was doing. You felt your face flush when you remembered that all of the attention was on you and you acted like a total pillow prince and not taking care of him in return.

After a few more minutes, the shower turned off and you heard the patter of Hoseok’s feet come down the hallway and back towards your room. All he had on was a new pair of boxers as he walked back over to you and sat on the bed. “How are you doing, baby?” He asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I’m good,” you gave him a nod, which widened his smile.

“That’s good. Drink your water more, then go to bed okay?” He instructed as he sat up to go back to his room.

“Wait,” you grabbed his wrist, stopping him from leaving.

“What is it?” He asked, concern evident in his dark brown eyes.

“I didn’t take care of you. . .” you mumbled out, pouting a bit.

Your comment got a chuckle out of Hoseok, “Baby, it’s okay. You needed me more than I needed you at that moment, okay?” To which you nodded, understanding. “Is there anything else you want?”

“Um. . .cuddle?” You purse your lips as you looked up at him. This got the man to smile, nodding as he moved over to the other side of your bed and got under the covers. Right away you snuggled right up next to him and sighed, the natural scent of him just calming you down.

“Hand me a cookie will you,” he asked, to which it was your turn to laugh and you handed him one.

“Try not to get crumbs all over my bed.”

“I would never!”

#btsghostie #btsghostiebingo #hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #bts x reader #bts smut #bts x male reader #bts x transgender reader #hoseok x male reader #hoseok x transgender reader #daddy hoseok #hoseok fluff and smut

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years

Text

frENEMIES, pt. 14 - Finale {Quarterback AU}

Series Masterlist

Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, Y/N felt guilty. She not only felt guilty, but evil because just looking into Mike's eyes that looked at her current state and easily deducted she was already Grayson's in more ways than one, he looked like she just ripped his heart out and danced on his grave.

"Really? Grayson fucking Dolan?" Mike exclaimed, his voice losing all the toughness he had with Grayson, the flowers in his hands shaking and not with rage.

"Look, I don't care. I'm crazy about you. Okay? I can get passed this if you're having regrets." And she felt even worse when she realized she could do whatever and Mike would still want her. But she wanted Grayson, as scary and uncertain as he can be, she wanted Grayson fucking Dolan.

Glancing at Grayson who seemed to have genuinely worried about her next move, she realized she had to end this torture and fast.

"Mike, I'm really sorry but...it's Grayson. You knew that, hell, you read the book! And I hate how it all happened, but I love this idiot and if I don't try, I'll hate myself." Sniffing, she rubbed her nose before locking eyes with Grayson who had a wide smile on his face because she just uttered the L word and it wasn't in an over the top way he imagined it would be and it wasn't really dramatic, it was as easy as breathing for her and that made it memorable.

"Yeah." Mike sighed, nodding to himself as his gaze fell to the floor and he licked his lips, gathering strength. "Hope you don't live to regret it. I really do." And he turned around, leaving the flowers he brought her on the table next to her front door before walking away.

"Are you okay?" Grayson stepped in front of her, breaking her unrelenting gaze that focused on the bouquet of lilacs - her favorite.

"I am. You're here, aren't you?" She inhaled deeply before looking up at her quarterback, giving him a small smile until he picked up on her wish and leaned in, kissing her lips.

"Now, how about that breakfast?"

The pair had found a way to be happy, leaving New York together on Sunday. Y/N didn't want Grayson to breach his contract and get him in legal trouble, so she followed him to L.A. thinking she can be a writer anywhere. And she was right because her sequel came out three years later, painting their reunion bittersweet considering the heart that broke in the process and the many issues they faced.

They were married six months into their relationship, already planning a family...a family they wouldn't be able to start so easily.

It killed them both, making it hard for Grayson to watch her sinking further every month. They've tried the normal way, they tried ovulation stimulation, they underwent so many diagnostic procedures to find the reason why but they got nothing. The doctors simply couldn't understand why she wasn't pregnant, and she was convinced it was karma.

"I broke Mike's heart and this is my punishment." She truly believed it.

Y/N took it the hardest, aware that she was failing not only herself but Grayson who always rambled about having a big family. It’s why she underwent the most painful procedures to get to the bottom of the issue, but got nothing in return.

She pulled away, hating herself, blaming herself, breaking to pieces. Until she gave up. There was so much hope in her for the first year, even as they kept causing her pain to find the cause in order to remove it, but the hope was gone after that and... She simply gave up on having children and that's when the surprise came.

"Y/N, love, why are you here?" Grayson looked at her with pure confusion and some worry because Y/N never came to his practice, saying she wanted him to focus. But she was there, her eyes filled with tears as he approached her.

"I had to come. I had to see you." Picking around her bag, she managed to find the item in question, pushing it onto his palm with excitement.

"Are we? Am I gonna be a dad?" His voice is shaky, his mind coming to a stop as he stared at the plus. The plus that meant his wife would finally return to him, that sex would be love making again and not just a reproductive action, that she will stop crying in the bathroom at night thinking he can't hear her as he too cried because of the pain he saw was tearing her apart. It meant she would finally be happy in their marriage, that she won't waste away watching his brother's daughter grow with her heart breaking each year. It meant so much more than a baby and Grayson was beyond happy because their next step was artificial insemination and in vitro fertilization which would be hard on her with more hormones being pumped into her body, possible failures and miscarriages that would only weaken her body and soul more.

That plus was everything he could ever want and Grayson never felt quite as happy than the day she had come for him at practice, pulling him away to the doctor's where they confirmed her pregnancy. Until the babies came and the ovulation pills have apparently worked too well because Grayson instantly had more kids than Ethan - identical twin girls.

"I didn't think this book would be such a success, but I guess people love enemies to lovers trope, huh?" She laid back, watching Grayson carry their girls, each nested in one arm, sleeping peacefully after their cramps eased up.

"I'd say it's the slow burn, maybe even the struggles to convince." He whispers and she has to hold back a chuckle to not wake the babies. The cramps they've been struggling with had both of them on edge, not sleeping for weeks.

"Or the fact everyone knows it's you, even if I never named you." She shrugs, realizing he's ready to put them down, watching with a grimace because she had a nagging feeling both girls would wake up the moment they don't feel their dad's warmth.

"I'm getting better at this." Proud, Grayson snuck back to the bed, way too happy about the silence that followed as he finally put his head down and relaxed.

"You're a good dad, but I'll bet you they will be up in less than ten minutes." Y/N smirked, aware that it took them hours to stop crying which meant their feeding time was pretty much now.

And just as he said deal, the babies started screaming and he wanted to cry too.

"You don't get to cry right now, quarterback! They're living off my boobs, not yours."

But still, they were happy, blissful even as they laid there tired, the babies eating while Y/N tried to stay awake and Grayson did the same just in case she fell asleep. He was definitely a hands on dad, always helping out even if he did gag every diaper change or had offered to ‘milk’ her on the first night and she cried because she thought he called her a cow - a big misunderstanding caused by his overwhelming need to help her because one baby was hard, two felt impossible.

"I love you and I'm so grateful for you and everything you do. For giving me these little girls that drive me crazy already and they're barely a month old, but also for loving me at my worst." Kissing her forehead, Grayson watched her tenderly, aware that his life had truly started when she came into his life and when she started loving him. Being dubbed worthy of love by a woman like her meant the world to him.

"Imagine someone telling us we'd be here back in college? I'd have thought they need a psychiatrist. But I'm happy. I really am. Even when I hated you during the difficulty of pregnancy and labor."

"You hated me?" Grayson's eyes widen and she smiles, aware if she laughed both babies would get scared and wail and do you know how hard it is to settle two wailing babies and convince them to eat? It’s hell she didn’t think worthy of risk for a single laugh.

"You try carrying two humans and then pushing them out of a very small hole. The point is, I love you too, quarterback. I do."

Finding comfort in one another, they braved that night and many more to come, always in love with each other to the point of embarrassing their kids, two more that came after, but isn't that what we all want? Someone that is your best friend, partner in crime and lover until the day we die? Y/N found that in her quarterback, realizing people are more than what they show on the surface and the line between love and hate is a fickle one.

Tags: @livexdolan @dreadingdaisies @strangerliaa @mendesficsxbombay @beinscorpio @peacedolantwins @dolandolll @idekxdolan

#dolan twins #grayson dolan #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan quarterback au #grayson dolan quarterback

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shotbyshe · 3 years

Text

8.13.21

"Happy Friday the 13th." -- She says to literally everyone today....co-workers and little brothers included.

Tidbits I jotted while "working": - I got my hello fresh box today and i already want to quit again as i did back in 2017. - work has been pretty dry today. today has been dry but for some reason i can't get anything done. - read some of the book - having a hard time focusing on one thing today

Every time I give myself a challenge, an activity or a hobby I make it into a chore. I did this with painting, editing, knitting, video games, reading, journaling, math game activities, coloring, logging my meals, even self care sometimes, the June vlogging challenge and now the August writing challenge.

I give myself something I must complete everyday -- because my days often feel nonproductive or lacking in some sort of creativity/fun/learning stimulant way -- and then I delay in doing it or dread doing it.

I tend to strive to get everything under control, then slack off when I have everything under control. Things are clean, in their places, and well organized now, therefore something in my brain is telling me to fuck it all up and make a mess...as if “okay, you've done everything, now fuck it all up so you have more things to do, or to then fix back.” What the actual hell?!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's 6:30pm right now and all I can think about is how I need to shower, clean up the kitchen -- 'cause I was cooking for the first time in a long time -- and brush my Goddamn unruly hair...as well as read this damn book and go through my journal/to do lists for yesterday and today.

I don't know why I do this to myself.

I make a big deal out of nothing.

To complete my HelloFresh thought:

- I had HelloFresh back in the day when I first moved to Manhattan.

Sidenote: I even remember when they were recruiting customers on the street. I used to work on Wall Street and that’s where their NY headquarters is. That’s how I was first introduced to HelloFresh, long before Youtubers were sponsored by them. Those were the days.

I believe I started my membership in 2016 and kept it until 2017. I enjoyed cooking and I did learn a lot about fragrances and how and what foods go together, etc. But I didn't always enjoy the meals...and I found the cooking to become a chore.

(Literally what I was saying before)

. So I ended my subscription back then. Recently now I've been bored with eating the same things everyday and I find that I need to eat FULL MEALS. I can't snack or have a small portion. I have to have my mocha, water, and one-to-two full meals. I've only ever, since maybe 2019, been having soups, salads and stir frys. That shit gets mundane and tiring as hell after two years. So I thought why not start HelloFresh again, why not cook different-type shit again? Plus you don't have to cook meat

(this was another reason I'd left).

But with my low iron I need to eat meat. Having said all that, cooking the chicken today, and this shawarma meal I prepared, was not fun! I remember that I hate cooking with and eating meat. It makes me very uncomfortable, and it smells gross. Upon finishing the meal -- though very delicious and hit the spot -- it was quite bland. I enjoyed it I'm not going to lie, however, I do not eat any food that whole day so it could be that my brain thinks it was good because I was so hungry. I don't know, I'll give it another week. This time I’ll try vegan/veggie meals only. I hope that helps. ** I also had to bring the box to my apartment from the lobby b/c they deliver by messenger. FML.

To complete my other thoughts that focuses on not being able to focus:

- Yeah I have no clue. I said yesterday I would stop taking the iron tablets. I actually did that and I feel so much better even just after one day. I didn't take them today and my stomach hasn't been stupid, so I will continue to not take them for the remainder of the month. If I feel I can stand it I'll continue in September. I want to at least enjoy the rest of my Summer pain-free the best way I can.

- Work is always dry on Fridays and moreso the end of the week period. I like my job. I like it a lot. It's such a blessing. It's so freeing. I'm able to live a carefree life b/c the income just takes care of itself. I'm very lucky. But then again I did work hard to get here. I'm glad I can complain about not having anything to do, as opposed to

"having soooo much to do"

. People actually brag about that shit. I'll never understand it. I must point out that

"keeping busy"

and bragging that you

"have so much going on"

are two different things. I am keeping busy but I have nothing "going on"......except life of course. This vast never-ending everlasting circle. Shout out to Mufasa for teaching me that.

- Yeah I read some of the book, like 5 pages. I couldn't concentrate because all I kept thinking about was all of the things that I needed to get done. In order for me to focus on one thing I have to first deal with all of the clutter around me. Yes, I can't just sit and read while drinking my mocha. I have to clear up the whole place, including my notes on the computer, before I can sit down and enjoy a book. I'm that OCD and strategic.

#august challenge #writing #writings #journal #jounalling #bbq #barbecue #day party #nyc #hellofresh #friday the 13th #summer #journaling #shawarma

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revisionaryhistory · 3 years

Text

Three Days ~ 78

~*~Sebastian~*~

The sun shone brightly when we woke up. I made Emma coffee first and we sat at the bar with fruit and yogurt. I wasn’t particularly hungry. Nauseated, if I’m honest. Emma was going home today. Yes, it was only for a couple of days, but that wasn’t what the problem was. I was afraid of how I would feel when she left. We’ve been together almost a week. We said I love you. Went to a concert with her friends, planned a vacation with mine, and celebrated a month together. Everything is wonderful. I don’t know how it will be when she leaves. Will I be melodramatically sad, anxious, and insecure that while she’s away she’ll figure out she prefers to be without me, or when she leaves will I be glad to have my space back? Realistically, the panic is more likely to come when she leaves France and we’re apart for six weeks. Today’s just a preview.

Around noon Emma was ready to leave. She’d gone through the bags of new stuff and left what she wanted to take to France. No sense packing it home only to bring it back. Especially when she was dealing with her suitcase on the train. Early afternoon was the best time to get her back. I walked her downstairs to her Uber and stopped by the security office to find out where the parking garage was. The security guard walked outside with us and pointed to a keypad on a pole next to the building. I walked into the building hundreds of times and never really noticed the large panes of windows that matched my building was a garage door. The same code that worked on the outside door worked on the garage and my spot was the same as my apartment number. That’s easy.

The Uber driver took Emma’s suitcase and lifted it into the trunk while we said goodbye. “I love you and I’ll see you Thursday.”

Emma kissed me and patted my chest, “I’ll let you know when I’m home.”

“Thank you.” I’m always going to worry about her getting home safe. Can’t wait until there’s snow and she’s driving to work or worse, here. I kissed her again, told her I loved her and tucked her in the car. Stood on the sidewalk until she turned the corner too. Avoided going back upstairs by running across the street and getting a bottle of something. Didn’t really matter what. I wasn’t thirsty. Took a walk around the block to drink my bottle of whatever. Finally, throwing the bottle away in the garbage can at the end of the block, I headed back upstairs.

I walked in my door and stood there with my hands on my hips, waiting for something to happen. Everything looked the same. Felt the same. Not sure what I expected. The apartment wasn’t going to suddenly have a portal to hell open up in between the dining table and couch. If it happened, it would be in the guest bathroom. Maybe my closet. I checked both to be sure. Nope, no portals. What I did find in the master bath was a mauve lipstick kiss print on the mirror. It was at my eye level but on the edge close to the wall. I smiled, thinking how she would have had to crawl onto the counter to put it there. I imagined she’d get the same thrill when she found the notes I’d hidden at her place and school.

A little over two hours later my phone rang. The prettiest girl in the world was calling me, “Hello, beautiful.”

She grinned, “Hey, handsome. I’m home.”

Emma turned her phone around to show me her family room. “I can see that. How was the trip?”

“Uneventful.”

“Perfect.”

“What have you been up to since I last saw you?” The lilt of curiosity in her voice was funny.

“I’ve been busy. Checking email and seeing everything has changed.”

“You’re very flexible.”

“Not nearly as flexible as you, my love.” We shared a dirty smile. “Now, we’re shooting in Paris instead of London. Which is convenient and doesn’t require a flight. And tonight I’m having dinner with a former spy.”

Her eyes lit up, “That sounds fun.”

“It does.” I agreed. “I’ve been trying to schedule something with him for a while. Finally worked out. It will be good to get in person and ask questions about all the shit I’ve been reading and watching.”

“I’m excited for you. You can get the psychological emotional part down. I imagine in person makes it easier to internalize.”

Not that I doubted, but she’d been paying attention when I’d talked. Her interest in the how and why of the craft side was as enjoyable for me as it was her. I wanted to show her more. I wanted to know about how she taught too, how she knew what to do and how she designed lessons. Which reminded me, “Add me to your online classroom so I can watch you teach.” There’s the added bonus of pretty much having her “on demand” if I wanted to see and hear her. I had the video from the party with her, Eli, and Boone too. That would make a long night alone a little more . . . stimulating.

We didn’t talk long. I was having an early dinner to allow plenty of time to talk and I needed to shower and get ready. Emma needed to unpack and start gathering things to repack. There’s also the part about she’d just left.

Dinner lasted much later than I’d anticipated. It was awesome. Dan told me stories and let me pick his brain. I told him about my part in the movie and he was able to give me some specifics. Not that I’d play the part exactly as he’d said, but I knew what to avoid, what wasn’t realistic. I liked that because a complete mismatch with reality could put me into my head and that’s the last place I wanted to be.

The next morning I hit the gym and had a good workout. Mirrors everywhere told me I needed more than a little personal grooming before leaving. A haircut was already scheduled and I called the salon to add on what I thought I needed. I had lunch with my manager to go over the next few weeks. I don’t have a full time PR person, but I do have a firm with which I contract. Emily had been in contact with them. About my girlfriend. Amazing how fast my mood went from good to not.

“Seb, don’t make that face.”

“What face?”

“The annoyed one where you’re holding in a tirade.”

“I’m glad you recognize the precarious ground you’re standing on.” I drank the last of my wine and crossed my arms across my chest. “I’m going to sit here and be very quiet for a limited amount of time. Talk fast.” I don’t have many tirades. A big part of that is due to the relationship I have with Emily. She’s been with me forever. She knows when to push, when to back off, and when to let me have a tirade. Girlfriends are and always have been a tricky area. Usually, Emily wants me to be more open about a girlfriend. Much like what previous girlfriends wanted. That never turned out well for either of them. Emma was altogether in another class. I wasn’t sullen because I didn’t want to hear about what I should be doing. I was feeling protective and didn’t want business in my personal life. Same issue, different reasons.

“Everything is good. Emma is good. She doesn’t have much of a social media presence and hers is private. Family and friends sometimes tag her, but there’s nothing problematic out there. Once her name is out there she won’t be hard to find because you and several of your friends follow her. It’s a quick find that she’s a teacher, where she works, plays volleyball, has a twin, and has musician friends. She’s known by Pearl Jam fans. They’re protective of all the females in the band’s orbit. Best guess is anything negative is wiped quickly. We called Pearl Jam’s PR people and they’ve worked with her, so we don’t need to. Until something comes up and then we’ll probably have to work with you too. Unless you go silent again.”

I must have twitched.

Emily held her hands out like she was calming a wild animal. “Everyone’s a little concerned because you let Will post something. Oh, and any pictures of her in a bikini are always in a group.” She smiled comically and sat back.

“The ones she sends me are solos.”

“Good to know.”

I sat a second, my blood pressure dropping. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

I nodded and shrugged, “I told Will to post the picture. Don’t know exactly why. I’m happy. I’m in love. I’ve grown. Past is past and I’m moving to the future. All of them.”

“So, the comments and everything. You’re okay?”

“No, Emily, I’m wonderful.”

I waited until I got home to call Emma. She hit voice call. I pouted even though she couldn’t see. “I am at Target replenishing my travel supplies.”

“Sounds fun! Are you in for shampoo and leaving with three hundred dollars worth of who knows what?” Isn’t that the way it usually works at Target?

“I have a list. I’m staying away from parts of the store I don’t need to be in.”

“Smart. What time do you have to be at the court?”

“We’re going to meet for dinner about five. Game at seven.”

“Give Sam your phone so I can pack and watch.”

“I bet if you ask nicely she’ll alert you when something big is going on.”

“I’m a decent multitasker.”

“How was dinner with a spy?”

"Dinner with a spy was" I shook my head and looked up, "fascinating. Books, even non-fiction, and video are good, but watching his expression and mannerisms was so cool. Especially when he had neither." I went on talking while she shopped. She laughed and gasped at the same parts I had. I was excited to see how I could incorporate this new knowledge. We hung up when she was checking out.

~*~*~*~

"Sorry about the loss." I cringed to soften the blow. I knew she didn't like to lose. Who does?

Emma growled, "Frustrating. I want a chocolate brownie or something."

"I think the bakeries are closed." It was a little after ten. "I'll get you one tomorrow."

"You're the sweetest."

"When will you be here?"

"Well before lunchtime. I got everything packed before the game. I'll shower tonight. Get up and be on my way. Do you have plans?"

"Yes. Vanity kicked in. I have a facial and haircut, before therapy. Want a facial?"

"No seaweed."

"Damm, that's what I booked for you."

~*~*~

I spent the morning packing. I’m not a heavy packer. I’ll wear the same thing over and over. I’m working so costuming will be taking care of most of my clothes. I’m invited to the fashion show. Being dressed is part of the package. Emma and I had made a list of places we wanted to see and things we wanted to do while in Paris. I composed an email and sent it on to the hotel’s concierge. I heard back almost immediately. They would create an itinerary and we could adjust it once we arrived. Perfect.

Emma would be back about noon. Our spa treatments and my haircut were set for three and my therapy appointment was around five. I cleaned up around the place. Nothing drastic. I had a cleaning service come in after I go away. I just make sure everything’s put away. I had my suitcase closed and in the dining area when my text notification went off.

Emma ~ Are you home?

Sebastian ~ Yes.

Emma ~ Alone?

Sebastian ~ Yes.

I am sensing something is about to happen.

Emma ~ When I get there would you like to play a game?

Sebastian ~ Yes.

I neither know nor care what she’s talking about. It would be nice to know what I’m going to be playing, though.

Sebastian ~ Could I get more details?

Emma ~ Porn

Sebastian ~ You want to watch porn?

Emma ~ Pretend we're in one. Over the top, things that only work in porn, excessive moaning, name calling, filthy talk porn.

Fuck. I’ve watched enough porn to know how this was going to go.

Sebastian ~ Yes, I would like to play.

Emma ~ I never doubted you.

Sebastian ~ Are you texting and driving?

Emma ~ Traffic and voice to text. Delivery girl, booty call, escort? Me. This time.

Sebastian ~ I don't know yet.

Emma ~ Text when you do.

Sebastian ~ I love you.

Emma ~ I love you.

Woman has been away for forty-eight hours and shows back up with this shit. I wasn't a sex-starved horn dog five minutes ago. I wonder what she's wearing? Delivery girl, booty call, escort. I like her choices. I have to seduce the delivery girl. Or be seduced. Booty call would be a repeat. Familiarity without expectations. There are zero expectations with an escort. Well, there are expectations, but only mine. I feel like it's a question of how selfish I want to be and what questions I want to answer after. Booty call it is!

I texted her my choice and that the door would be unlocked. I sat in the chair to wait. Patiently.

#oscar isaac #fanfiction #rpf #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac X OFC

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sadsapphicslut · 3 years

Text

chapter one - original story (i havent come up with a title yet lol)

okay so here it is!! if anyone actually reads this i love u :) please leave feedback if u have any!!

TWs:

death, drugs, medication, mental illness, references to sex, swearing, alcohol

wordcount: 8.2k

(also i dont think anyone will but im paranoid of people stealing my writing so obligatory dont copy/post to another site or steal my work in any other ways etc)

There were five of us; 4 boys and me. In hindsight I realize from the outside our group probably seemed a little predatory, but it was never really like that. For the most part they were like brothers to me. Of course, being the only girl in a small and isolated club of mainly older boys, things were bound to happen. We were in high school and it was summer, can you blame me? Regardless, however much I loved them, it was not quite in the way my father always assumed or my mother always warned (during our uncomfortable monthly visitations before I managed to get rid of her for good).

The months everything went down, which I often referred to only as ‘The Worst Summer of My Life’, (quite melodramatically but not without reason) were somehow still full of the best moments of my life. Moments I often find myself wishing I could repeat, as nothing has or will ever come close to the way I felt, sitting amongst my boys day after day, somehow light as the warm July breeze that blew past us. My entire body weightless, as non-existent as the time that passed us by. Despite the depression I’d found myself plunged into during the days after my only brother’s death, I truly believe I will never again be as happy as I was then. Laughter seemed to flow freely from our mouths, smiles plastered onto our faces no matter the circumstances, content to just exist. I don’t think I can ever forget the day it was raining so hard the entire city was flooded, but we walked around uptown well past the point of being absolutely drenched, our clothes dripping so heavily the security guard denied us entry into the public library. Something about that day made me feel so free, like we were invisible. Completely apathetic to the whims of the real world, somehow existing only in our twisted minds and intertwined fantasies.

Maybe if I’d had my head screwed on a little tighter, or if we’d met under different circumstances, it wouldn’t have ended the way it did. I used to go down that line of thought every night before succumbing to a fitful but heavy sleep (under the direct affect of 25mg of Quetiapine, working to counteract my Concerta and Lexapro). Those types of irrational thoughts were ones my therapist deemed as my habit for rumination. In regard to the death of my brother she called it ‘bargaining’, one of the stages of grief. I never liked it when she spoke about those stages as I’ve always felt them to be wrong. Maybe because I never quite moved on to the final one, no matter how many years pass. ‘Acceptance’, coined as the “Re-entrance to reality”. Maybe it’s different since I was never really grounded to reality in the first place. I still wake up some mornings, thinking I’ve heard his voice in the other room, ready to beguile me with tales from his day of retail work. Other times I swear I’ve walked past him on the street. Some people may relate to my experiences, with reasonings of ghosts, angels, apparitions, or insanity, among many other causes for the apparent viewing of a loved one long gone to the other side. I never shared these beliefs, but I am not one to deny. Rather, I always take these instances as an omen. A warning. I have come to this conclusion not without evidence, at least circumstantial, given the many occasions over the years – and especially that summer – where I found my hypothesis to be true. All I can say is that I am glad I’ve never been met with the same chimerical visions of my mother; one can only hope that is because she ended up where she belonged. Maybe I’ll see her there, though I hope at the very least they could keep us in separate rooms of Hell if the situation does arise.

From what I know of the others now, which is admittedly not much – majorly due to my own neglect, as opposed to theirs – they share the same prescription for rose-coloured glasses as I. We always were too engrossed with our own romanticization of nostalgia and sentiment that it clouded our view. I often think this was one of the reasons we seemed to fit so well together. Not quite like puzzle pieces, too self-absorbed to hold a candle to that analogy, more like complimentary colours. I wish it could’ve stayed the way it was. We did try, and I never found myself able to fully disentangle myself from James, nor he could to I, but for most of us we could recognize an ending when one arises. I used to find myself using the word tragedy a lot while reminiscing, but I no longer think that word is appropriate. Fate is a more fitting term in my opinion, regardless of if one believes in it or not. “(A)n inevitable and often adverse outcome, condition, or end,” as reported by Merriam Webster. I don’t think there’s a word in the entire English language more accurate in describing how everything ended up; and if there is, I am yet to find it.

Chapter One

A Dead Brother

I have tried to erase the day my brother died from my memory so many times I lost count decades ago. I still find the image seeping into my unconsciousness quite dreadfully on the nights I neglect to take my pills and catch myself waking up with a steady flow of tears that dampen my pillow along with the drool that always seems to pour from my sleeping mouth. The dread that pools in my stomach sometimes being heavy enough for me to lose my lunch. I frequently wonder how people managed to reassure me that it wasn’t my fault; the most painful lie I’ve ever been told and one that seemed to stream from people’s mouths as easily as the mini sandwiches laid in the living room of my brother’s wake were stuffed in. The worst part about being told it wasn’t my fault was how obviously one could tell they didn’t believe what they were saying either. His death was my fault; a fact so uncontestable I wanted to kill myself every time I was reminded of it.

My therapist often tried to remind me that even if his death was “partially” (she always used the word partially, refusing to acknowledge the truth that his death was entirely my fault) my fault, there was nothing I could’ve done to prevent it. This was another lie I despised being told. There were a million ways I could have prevented his death or saved his life and yet, here we are, with him dead and me wishing everyday that I won’t wake up tomorrow. “Begonia,” she’d tell me – she was the only person who called me by my full name, I usually went by Nia, but a nickname felt too personal and I didn’t like her very much – “You mustn’t keep torturing yourself with these scenarios. He’s dead, and there is nothing you can do to change that. I am starting to wonder if you are going to let yourself move on. This isn’t healthy.” That was a line she liked to use a lot, “this isn’t healthy”. As if anything I do is.

Barb, my therapist that is, liked to go over the details of my brother’s death a lot. She often called it a ‘trigger’, which is why she always seemed to want me to talk about it. “Trauma is a horrible thing, Begonia, and you must learn to move past it, process it. I can see you still haven’t managed to do that on your own, and that’s what I’m here for, to help you move on.” Barb was big on the idea of “moving past trauma” and “learning to cope”, she often sounded like a broken record of a motivational speech. I found myself comparing her to school guidance councillors without realizing it, they were about equally as helpful (read: not helpful) in my opinion.

Sometimes I blame my inability to forget and “move past” my brother’s death on the way Barb constantly brought it up and made me go through it. I never quite understood how that part of my therapy was supposed to help me. I asked her once, what good was it doing rehashing the worst day of my life?

“Well, Begonia,” I hated the way she said my name, always so condescending and sour, like even the idea of me questioning her in any way was as impolite as shitting on her desk.

“You have to understand that I only want to help you. You seem to be unable to process your traumas on your own, which is why we need to go through these things. As you are aware, this PTSD,” she always left strange pauses after each letter, her slow tone grinding on my ears, “you have acquired has left you unable to function normally in daily life. I want you to get to a place where you can have a normal life (Ha!) and cope without these meetings. It’s what your brother would’ve wanted.” Barb liked to tell me what my brother would have wanted at least once every session. Putting aside the fact she knew next to nothing about him aside from the intimate details on how he died, I always thought it was an inappropriate thing to say as a psychologist specializing in grief counselling. It never particularly bothered me, I was reasonable enough to realize she was just trying to comfort me, but I never liked the phrase. “What your brother would’ve wanted.” What he would’ve wanted was to not die but we’re past that, aren’t we Barb, as you so often enjoyed telling me.

I have always been quite averse to my diagnoses, ADHD at 14, Persistent Depressive Disorder at 15, PTSD at 16, issues with alcohol and drugs that landed me in rehab more than once. I’ve been on a concoction of different medications since I was 13, even before I was diagnosed with anything officially. Sertraline, Lexapro, Prozac, Ritalin, Concerta, Adderall, Quetiapine, Ambien, Zopiclone, a healthy mix of off brand and branded medications. Sleeping pills, antidepressants, stimulants. I can’t remember a time before monthly trips to the drug store and side effect surveys that I’m not sure if I ever told the truth on. It’s a wonder that people didn’t see a slew of addiction issues coming from a mile away.

I think I’ve always had the most contention with my PTSD diagnosis though, I hate it because I know it’s undeniably true. I wish it wasn’t because maybe that’d mean my brother was still alive, but he isn’t. And I’m left traumatized and bereaved. Sometimes it feels like it hurt me more than it ever did my mother or father. Maybe it did. I should feel selfish for saying that, but I can’t, because they didn’t have to look at him while the life left his body, praying to God for the ability to turn back time. See the moment his eyes glazed over, knowing I’d never get to hear his obnoxious laugh, or make fun of his dumb face ever again.

❈

“Ray, hey listen I need you to come pick me up.”

It was a cool evening in May, the end of spring brought with it the promise of summer and the air had the familiar aroma of daffodils and petrichor. I had decided to go to a party with my friend Faun, my dad having been out at his girlfriend’s place for the weekend and me having nothing better to do. I wasn’t one for partying, but I did like to get high, so I usually just hung around with the rest of the potheads and pill junkies until someone dragged me home or I fell asleep. That night Don, a friend of a friend of a friend, had brought coke and E and we were all determined to get as fucked up as possible. Faun only ended up doing one line before running into a bedroom with some guy whose name started with an M – was it Martin or Marvin? Maybe it was Mickey – and left me sitting on the couch beside a girl who was about 1 more shot of vodka away from passing out.

I had fully intended on doing some coke, but the E seemed to be hitting harder than I was used to. I was sure my Ritalin had worn off by then but maybe I was wrong. As I stood up to get a glass of water I nearly fell over and decided to sit back down. Turning to face Don, I tapped him on the shoulder trying to get his attention.

“What was in that molly?” I was vaguely aware of the way my words were slurring, but I felt weirdly energized. I was aware my heart was beating a little too fast, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I knew what ecstasy felt like, this was not nearly my first time doing it, but I felt really wrong.

“Don!” He turned to look at me and I felt uneasy. His eyes looked a little crazed – not that out of the ordinary but given the circumstances I was worried – “What the fuck did you give me?” It felt like I’d done 5 lines of coke in the last 2 minutes and I knew that E had been spiked.

Don��s face had an unmistakable expression of guilt written on it as he leaned down and whispered in my ear, his voice shaking, “I think it was cut with meth.” Fuck. My stomach dropped. I have to get out of here. I quickly shot up from the musty couch I was sat on, carefully holding onto Don’s shoulder so I didn’t fall, my legs still feeling unsteady. I opened my phone; the screen was too bright, and I had a hard time maneuvering it as I attempted to exit the house. Clicking the green Messages icon, I sent a text to Faun – e ws cut w meth im lesving – with shaky hands and burst out the door into the fresh air. I clicked my brother’s contact and pressed call.

It rang four times before he picked up.

“Nia? Why are you calling me it’s like 1am?” I could tell from the smooth tone of his voice he’d been drinking. He didn’t very often but he had an appreciation for cocktails and enjoyed getting buzzed now and then. He still was a year from being legal to drink but his friends we’re all 19 and 20 and bought alcohol for him. I found him fun when he got drunk, becoming talkative and giggly, but right now I wished so badly for him to be sober.

“Ray, hey listen I need you to come pick me up.” I was slurring, my voice a bit too pitchy to pass as anything but high. I knew he didn’t like it when I did this, but he never ratted me out. Sometimes I wish he did, maybe I never would’ve been able to go to that party in the first place.

I could hear a door shutting on his end, I assumed he was going into a different room. “What’s wrong?” My skin was bubbling with anxiety at the prospect of having to tell him what I did.

“Fuck, uh… I did something stupid. I’m at Emily Goguen’s, y’know up in Champlain Heights. Please pick me up.” I rarely used the word please.

“Nia, what the fuck did you do?” I almost started crying but I found my eyes to be bone dry.

“Please don’t yell.”

“Okay, really, tell me what is going on or I won’t come get you.”

“I accidentally took meth.”

“You what? What the fuck, Nia! Fuck this I’m on my way and I’m fucking telling Dad.” I cringed but I knew he was going to before I even called. The pit in my stomach grew deeper as the buzzing of my skin grew stronger. I could feel myself getting higher, everything was so clear and standing around was making me grow restless. Ray huffed on the phone and I heard him entering his car.

His tone was softer the next time he spoke. “I’ll be there in 5, just stay put, please. Do you want me to stay on the call or can I hang up?”

I felt like a child, which I was really, only 16 at the time, a whole life ahead of me. Still, I was grateful for the way he spoke to me, reminiscent of being 6 and getting a scrapped knee after falling off my pink Razor scooter. The high made me edgy, and my voice was sharp to my ears, “No, you can hang up.” I heard the click to indicate he’d done just that, and started pushing my cuticles as I waited, the task somehow greatly interesting me, and I did not realize until later I had managed to pick off all of the skin around my pointer and middle fingernails during the five-minute wait.

Ray pulled up exactly five minutes later in his ugly, blue 2011 Ford Fiesta he’d gotten the year prior after passing his driving test. What I wouldn’t do now to smell the inside of that car once again, a distinct attar of pineapple car freshener and Old Spice deodorant mixed with stale black tea, faintly present due to his ever-growing collection of empty paper cups from various different fast foods and coffee shops.

I stumbled into the car, feeling the strong impulse to clean the space, but attempting to push it down. From the passenger side overhead mirror I could see my blown pupils and sweaty forehead, pieces of my copper red hair sticking to my face. My freckles were showing through my concealer that had mostly worn off and I wanted to cover them back up. My skin was pale from winter (and probably the drugs in my system) but my cheeks were flushed like I was drunk. My high cheekbones made my face look gaunt in the lighting, but my face was wide which balanced it out, so I didn’t look completely skeletal. Ray was looking at me, the worry apparent in his eyes, but his face was flushed as well, and I could tell he’d been drinking a bit too much to drive. I had my license as well, but it was clear I was in no condition to take over on that front, so I didn’t bother saying anything. I wish I had. There’s a lot of things I wish. I wish I hadn’t gone to that party; I wish I hadn’t taken that E; I wish I called someone else; I wish I waited it out at Emily’s; I wish I walked home; I wish I took a cab; I wish I waited for Faun; I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t take his eyes off me as I shut the mirror in front of me.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll be fine. Please just take me home.”

“Is Dad there?”

“No.”

“Maybe I should take you to Mom’s.”

“No!” I’d moved out of my mom’s completely just over 6 months ago, barely seeing her once a month. It was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. She never liked me much anyways, the feeling was entirely mutual. Ray seemed to have a close bond with her for some reason despite how she treated him like shit. I never called him out though, he no longer lived with her, so I didn’t really care what their relationship was as long as she wasn’t hurting him. She did treat him significantly better than me, however, so I figured maybe he managed to forgive her the way I never could.

“Okay, but I’m staying with you until Dad gets home. I’m not gonna lie to him about this shit. Fucking meth, Nia? Seriously?”

“It was in the molly.” He sighed and started driving.

My brain felt like it was filled with butterflies, or ants, some kind of movement that was itching at my skull. The paper cups scattered around were making me anxious and I needed to clean his car. I began picking at my nails again, but I needed to pick up those cups, you see. I turned around and started gathering the ones Ray had discarded in the back, filling up an empty plastic bag from Best Buy. I was fully switched around in my seat, nearly crawling into the backseat to reach the trash my brother had left. I felt him tap my side, I looked over at him and he started to scold me.

“Nia, stop that will you, you’re distracting me.” But I needed to finish gathering the cups. The car was dirty, and my skin was itching, the traffic lights burning my skin. I was elated and I didn’t want to listen to him, he was just trying to get in my way. I continued to lean over, not registering the swerve of the car as he looked over at me.

“Nia – ”

He turned over to push me back into my seat, his eyes leaving the road for no more than a few seconds. This time I felt the swerve as we broke into the next lane.

This is where I have a hard time piecing together what happened. From what I was told, we ended up running directly into a 2015 Dodge Ram 2500. In case you understandably have a lack of knowledge when it comes to cars, that is a very large, sturdy, and expensive pickup truck which I would probably consider the last vehicle you’d want to charge headfirst into while going 70km per hour. I don’t recall the actual incident of hitting the truck, whether that be from the drugs, the position I was in, or hitting my head on the roof of the car, I don’t know. What I do know is that when I woke up, we were in a ditch on the side of the road, with the car flipped upside down, and my entire body was screaming at me to Get Out!

I felt blood oozing sluggishly from my head and noted some indistinct pain in my right wrist where it had scraped something pretty badly and gotten twisted, but I otherwise felt alright. I couldn’t tell if the cloudiness in my head was from a concussion or the earlier events of the night, but I figured it was probably good I was awake, regardless of how dazed I seemed.

I turned my head to the left and was greeted by a view I will never be able to forget, it having been branded to the insides of my eyelids, scorched in my mind. Ray, with his left arm twisted in spectacular fashion, reminding me of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, after Lockhart spells away Harry’s bones. My brother had always been squeamish with broken bones and I hoped he wasn’t aware of how his limb looked at the moment. His head was bleeding quite profusely, and I was alarmed despite how many times I’d heard in movies that headwounds bleed a lot. His eyelids were fluttering, irises appearing glassy and unfocussed. And then I saw it. A piece of glass was stuck in the left side of his neck. The windshield apparently had broken with the impact and my brother was lucky enough to get a piece lodged right in his trachea. It was thick, bright red blood – that I could’ve sworn was sparkling in my current inebriated perspective – was gushing out the side, so heavy I could smell it, taste it, in the air. I was frozen once I realized.

Do something, do something! Put pressure on it! Call 9-1-1! My mind was screaming at me, but it was all I could do to sit and watch the blood stain his clothes. He was wearing the corduroy jacket I’d gotten him for his birthday and a white button up, the red seeped into them until it was as if they’d always been that colour. My voice was caught in my throat, but I managed to push some sound past.

“Ray?” It was weaker than a whisper but in the silence that seemed to envelope us in that car, completely independent of the outside world and sirens that could surely be heard from blocks away, I knew he would be able to hear me.

He looked up, eyes focussing slightly on me, and a tear slipped down his face, only it went the wrong way since we were still upside down. He mouthed the words “I love you”. We never said that to each other. As close as we were, our relationship had always been more comparable to that of a best friend than sibling. We weren’t overly affectionate, never hugged or said I love you, hung out for enjoyment rather than as a punishment. Most people didn’t know we were brother and sister until we pointed it out, we never really looked alike and were absent of the traditional distaste and rivalry usually present between siblings. I knew, as he looked me in the eyes and said those words, this would be the last time I’d ever see him outside of a morgue.

I sat in my seat next to him with dry eyes, wishing desperately I could cry, needing to express the feeling of utter horror and despondency that completely overtook my body and mind, but I couldn’t. Barb told me time and time again that I was in shock, there was nothing I could’ve done, but I will never be able to believe that. I still remember the moment the final tear slipped down his face. He smiled at me, pain evident in his eyes. His entire body was covered in the metallic smelling red, and I wanted to vomit. I wish I could say the crash had sobered me, but it didn’t, not really. I was still entirely in a daze as I saw his muscles relax, smiling falling from his face, eyes not quite rolling back all the way but enough to give me nightmares for the next 20 years. The life had been absorbed from his body, leaving a heavy shell. I was told afterwards this all happened within the span of 10 minutes, but it felt like years. By the time the first responders had appeared I was an old woman. Grayed hair, and arthritic bones. Mourning for the brother I’d lost oh so many years ago, when I was just a girl. I think in a way I died in that car with him, I never was really the same. But who would be? Best friend and confidant, older brother, idol, dying in front of your eyes as you do nothing, knowing for the rest of your life that his death is – was – your fault. Knowing you could’ve done something, anything really, to prevent his untimely loss of life before the paramedics arrived. If I’d been the same after that night I would have to be much more disturbed than I ever thought.

I sat in that car beside Ray’s corpse for 3 more minutes before I heard the sirens closing in around us – me. I thought I might pass out, either from the toll of what I’d just witnessed or from my concussion, but I remained upright, probably from the adrenaline. I couldn’t move so I just waited, and hoped I’d die too before anyone reached the scene. It would be much preferrable to any other outcome I could think of at the time. I could vaguely register the pain in my wrist, but I felt so numb I’m sure you could’ve shot me in the foot and I wouldn’t have blinked.

A young fireman named Walter ended up getting me out of the car. The door was smashed and stuck which meant I’d been trapped in there either way. I was happy I hadn’t bothered trying to escape as I'm terribly claustrophobic and finding out I couldn’t would have thrown me into a proper panic attack. The fireman was incredibly nice, saying reassuring things the entire time they were opening the door with the “Jaws of Life”. I ended up seeing him again in the hospital actually, or at least that’s what my father told me. He wanted to check in on me and left me some hydrangeas in a vase. I always preferred chrysanthemums but I'm not that picky when it comes to a floral arrangement.

After the door was busted open I was carried out by Walter. I was shaking and apparently babbling nonsense but in my head I was trying to tell them to save Ray. I wasn’t really aware of all that much, completely blind to the crowd of spectators that had rudely gathered to witness the violence – wasn’t it supposed to be taboo to stop at a car crash? Wondering vaguely about what happened and wishing you could get a better look as you drive past the scene. My head wound had made me a bit incompetent and the meth in my system was really not helping the entire situation.

I was laid on a gurney and rolled onto an ambulance. I don’t remember much about the ride; the sirens, the bright lights, a paramedic named Alice who spoke softly, smoothing out my hair while the other put an oxygen mask on my face (which I wasn’t entirely cognizant enough to question though now I'm not really sure why they did it) and splinted my wrist. Alice asked me if I was on drugs and I nodded but was unable to speak when she asked me what ( I would find this a common occurrence after the accident, my voice seemingly stolen alongside Ray’s). She just nodded and said something to the other ME that I didn’t quite pick up. She asked if I could tell her my name and I shook my head. She must’ve noticed the iPhone in my pocket and grabbed it, turning to the medical ID page.

“Is your name Begonia?” I nodded, though the name sounded foreign on my ears. I liked the way Alice said it though, she had a light Spanish accent and a matronly tone that made me feel safe. I wondered if she had kids of her own; she looked young, but my own mother had me at 19 so who could say? She told me her name after complimenting mine. “Begonia is a beautiful name; I love the flowers. I’m Alice, okay? We’re gonna make sure you’re alright and take you to the hospital.” Her voice was sweet like syrup and I became sleepy as she spoke.

“No honey, you can’t fall asleep yet. Just stay awake a little bit longer and I promise you they’ll let you sleep at the hospital.”

I don’t remember anything of the rest of the ride to the hospital. I was dropped off at the Emergency Room at the Regional, head still too foggy to allow me to recall anything before I was sitting in a white bed, in a white room, with white sheets and a light blue hospital gown on. It was morning and my father was sitting at the end of my bed in an uncomfortable plastic chair, his eyes bloodshot and moist. He’d very obviously been crying for a long time and my chest panged with guilt. I reached up to feel my head and realized there was a cast on my wrist. With my other hand I touched the cotton that covered my forehead, wincing when I felt the sting of what had to be stitches in a nasty gash. I would spend the next 5 years of my life with a variety of diverse haircuts that attempted to hide the ugly scar that served as a reminder of the worst night of my life. Even now it is still extremely obvious, but I can’t be bothered to try and hide it, I so rarely look in the mirror that it wouldn’t matter if my skin turned blue.

My dad hadn’t looked up, so I attempted to gain his attention but once again found my voice failing me. I tapped on the bed a few times before he seemed to realize and face me.

“Nia… how are you feeling?” His voice was raspy and thin. He reeked of cigarettes and stale coffee, though this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. I remained silent as he looked at me, searching my face for something I'm not sure he found.

“Nia, I, I'm not sure how to say this to you.” Here it comes. Almost worse than watching my brother die, the confirmation. “Ray, he’s, well dead.” I saw my father’s eyes begin to tear up again as I stared straight ahead. I couldn’t feel the sobs that racked my body, nor the hot tears streaming from my eyes. I saw my dad start to move closer but sit back down when I flinched. Of course, I knew my brother was dead; I had front row seats to watching the event happen, but somehow I still didn’t believe it until the words left my father’s mouth. According to my dad, who many years later described to me how eery the whole event was, my sobs were completely silent, and I was entirely unaware of everything happening around me. This dissociation lasted the first few days after the accident, and the entirety of my hospital stay. Leaving the blissful gap in my memory I have now.

Barb told me this was my mind’s way of coping with the tragedy and stress of what happened. I was honestly just happy I had an excuse to skip some of the dreadful retelling she forced upon me.

❈

The funeral was of course a depressing and solemn event. I was still yet to speak and found myself thankful for the way people gave up on trying to get me to communicate. I dressed in a black skirt with a black short sleeved button up. A dark coat thrown around my shoulders as the cast on my right hand was too big to fit through the sleeve. I looked terrible, barely a week out of hospital before I watched Ray sink into the ground. The wound on my forehead was still quite nasty, though it looked better than it did before. I tried to cover it up with my hair but was unsuccessful. I got bangs soon after.

The matter was very traditional, taking place in a church even though none of our family was really religious. It was only the second time I'd ever been in a church, the first having been for my cousin Julie’s wedding when I was four years old. I don’t remember anything of it aside from the material of my dress itching at my neck and making me rather miserable. Of course, not nearly as miserable as I was the day of the funeral, sitting in a pew at the front of the church, listening to a priest claiming Ray would’ve wanted us to celebrate his life. I knew this not to be true; Ray was extremely dramatic and would’ve cherished the thought of everyone he’d ever spoken to moping around for weeks after his death, beside themselves with grief. He sometimes referred to himself as “Romeo” after having been broken up with by another girl he was supposedly in love with, stating he better just stab himself in the heart now if he couldn’t have her. On the rare occasion he broke up with a girlfriend, he’d lounge around, eating ice cream, pretending to not be upset and comparing his cold heart to that of Richard VIII. The concept of him being any different over his death was almost comical; Ray was nothing if not predictable.

I sat beside my father, who sat beside my mother (it was an extremely awkward arrangement that neither I nor my father cared for) and seemed to have the idea that I could evaporate if I thought hard enough about it. Unfortunately, I did not evaporate, or even come close to it, instead finding myself exactly where I'd been the whole time. I mostly tuned out the service, only really paying attention when my father and Ray’s best friend, Jake spoke. I managed to escape the duty of having to speak that day thanks to my fragile mental state and mutism. Though I'm sure I would’ve been forced all the same if I had been able to talk in any capacity, regardless of where my head was at.

Faun was sitting in the pew behind me, feeling quite guilty about the whole ordeal. Or friendship dissolved soon after, I think she blamed herself for taking me to the party. It didn’t bother me too much though; we were never the closest and I sometimes thought her to be extremely annoying. An endless stream of shitty boyfriends that she only acquired so she could further repress her sexuality. When we were 14 we kissed at a sleepover and she admitted she was in love with me. I felt bad for not returning the feeling and our relationship had been on rocky territory ever since. I don’t understand how she thought she was in love with me since she barely knew anything about me, but either way she never brought it up again and soon after the monsoon of boytoys had begun.

My brother’s friends and ex-girlfriends also attended the event. I didn’t approach any of them, far too scared they’d blame me for the death of their friend. One of them, Alex, went up to me to say how sorry he was about everything that happened. He was crying quite heavily (I later found out he was the friend Ray had been drinking with and the second last person to see him alive) and I could smell alcohol on his breath. I stood there while he spoke, telling me about how great my brother was as if I was wholly unaware. Body waving side to side as he stood with his hand on the wall beside me. He offered me some bronze liquid in a flask, and I obliged, savouring the burning sensation that followed in my throat. Alex’s voice was steady and deep, reminding me of my father’s. I’m not sure how long we stood there, him spinning a fantastic web of anecdotes and stories about my brother, some entirely new to my ears. We passed the beverage back and fourth until it was empty. My head felt lighter and heavier somehow simultaneously, and I found it much easier to listen to Alex talk. Later he tried to kiss me in my bedroom during the wake. His mouth was sour, and his tongue seemed too big for his mouth. I wondered how he was able to talk so much without it getting in the way.

We moved in procession to the cemetery after the service. The grass was a vibrant green colour, and I didn’t understand how the world kept turning after Ray’s death, for mine stopped the moment his heart failed to beat. The sky was a lovely shade of cyan-blue, with clouds so perfect they seemed animated. Pink carnations were planted near the outskirts of the yard and I could smell spring in the air; a heavy, floral aroma that never failed to comfort me. I thought it should be raining, it felt inappropriate that the weather refused to match my despair. My mind wandered as we approached the empty grave and I considered what it would be like if Ray was here beside me. He’d probably be making jokes, telling me to lighten up for a minute or my face would get stuck that way. He’d mock my silence, saying how I never managed to shut up for a minute before but suddenly I'm as proper as a nun. I'd smile, ruffling his hair to piss him off and try to refrain from laughing aloud. The absence of him only felt stronger as I imagined this scenario, so I shoved it out of my head.

The casket was lowered into the ground, my father was a pallbearer and I often think about how he must’ve felt carrying his son’s body before watching him being buried. My mother sobbed loudly which annoyed me, it felt a bit exaggerated. I had a few tears falling from my eyes but mostly, I just felt numb. Incredibly and absolutely empty inside. To onlookers it may have seemed as though we weren’t very close, my reaction being similar to that of his ex-girlfriends’. However, this didn’t account for the loss of my voice, or the broken state I was in mentally. Maybe it was better that my reaction was rather dulled. It meant people didn’t feel the need to approach me as they did my mother. Less concerned given she was the one playing up her emotions to the point of embarrassment. My father cried, more than I but far less than my mother. He didn’t cry very often – I'd actually only seen it once prior to the whole event – and I figured he probably needed it. At this point I felt as though I'd shed enough tears to last a lifetime so Ray wouldn’t mind if I was a bit subdued in comparison. He never was a crier anyways.

As I sprinkled soil onto his casket I imagined he was right beside me, watching, ready to criticize as usual. The dirt stained my hand, clutching the sweat and turning my skin a muddy brown colour. As I wiped the dirt on my jacket I could hear him nagging about how I better go wash my hands, what was I, a six-year-old? He was in denial about me growing up and took every chance to remind me I was still just a kid. Not that he had much on me, but I enjoyed it. I never was one to shy away from attention; at least not before. Little quirks and inside jokes between us were always some of my favourite things, the type of humour you could only get from living with someone your whole life. No matter how much his memory will fade there are some things I can’t let myself forget. His mocking tone when he’d make fun of me is one of those things. If I ever managed to let go of that sound then I must be dead as well.

The sun beat down on my back, my skin burning in my black clothes. I wasn’t sweating yet, but most of the men around were – suit jackets aren’t exactly known for their breathability. My nose was dry and aching red, sore from how much I'd been wiping it the last couple days. Still the sweet seeping tinge of flowers and spring managed to crawl into my nose, settling underneath my skin, the buzzing from before had returned, I could feel my heartbeat loudly in my throat and had the desperate urge to just run. Instead, I just followed the rest of the party, sitting down in the passenger seat of my dad’s car. The silence that settled over us was uncomfortable and stale. He turned on the radio, Led Zeppelin filled the air around us, thankfully relieving some of the tension. I felt in my left pocket for one of the carnations I’d picked from a nearby grave earlier. The flower had begun to wilt, heat taking effect on its delicate composition. When I got home I put it in between the pages of my oldest copy of Romeo and Juliet. Ray would have found it funny if he was around to see.

The drive to my mother’s house was short and minimally awkward. We sat in silence – aside from the music – only because there was no alternative. My hand remained clutched around the dying flower in my pocket as we left the car and entered the home. Other people had already arrived, clustered in the living room, picking at tiny ham sandwiches and various desserts my mother had undoubtedly stress-baked the day before. I wasn’t hungry so I sat as far away from the food and people as humanely possible while staying in the living room, not wishing to hear my mother’s scolding about how I need to socialize more. Eventually I managed to slip away into my old bedroom, where Alex was sitting on my bed drinking a mickey of Smirnoff I assumed he swiped from my mother’s freezer. He offered it to me, and I accepted, the weird repetitive déjà vu like act, mirroring earlier and making the whole day feel like somewhat of a dream.

When I went over this part with Barb she always felt the need to emphasize that it wasn’t a dream. I knew this, obviously, which I told her every time, but she was inclined to disbelief when it came to my denial over my brother’s death. “Begonia, you must realize he’s gone. Dwelling is helping nobody, especially not you. This isn’t a healthy mindset for you to have. Always comparing living to your dreams. I want you to tell me you understand this isn’t just some dream you can wake up from.” The first time she said that to me I was thrust into a bout of wordlessness, as it struck a bit too close to home. The next time she brought it up I just told her of course, though even now I still cannot say I fully understand. How can I when all of my assumptions have been constantly disproven time and time again. How can I ever say this isn’t a dream when I'm not even sure I'm real? James always tries to reassure me, “Bee, I'm telling you, if you can feel this beat, the pulse in your wrist, your neck, your chest, you are alive,” he’ll say while pressing my hand to my wrist, but we both know it isn’t that simple.

Me and Alex made out for a few minutes until I managed to excuse myself. He was a bad kisser and tasted disgusting. I left him sitting on my old bed while I went downstairs to find my dad. He was sitting at the counter with a can of root beer, blank expression sat upon his face. When his eyes met mine he sighed, grabbing his keys out of his pocket. It was obvious neither of us wanted to be here, for numerous reasons, so we left. And if the radio stayed off as we drove home we didn’t acknowledge the silence that time. In my hand was the crumpled carnation, and for some reason it made my chest hurt. A deep ache of dread. I could feel my heartbeat, hear it over the drum of the car engine, and I crushed the flower further. I was careful not to rip it though, as if that was crossing some kind of invisible line my mind had set for me. My fingers felt waxy when I finally let go.

Back home, I opened the copy of Romeo and Juliet. I retrieved the deteriorating plant from my pocket and placed it in the center. Closing the book, I stacked it under a few dictionaries, a magazine under it so it was trapped on either side. I sat down in front of it and cried. Not the huge gasping sobs my mother seemed to fancy, nor the quiet weeping of my father. No, I cried the tears of a child who just found out their grandparents died, the soft uncomprehending grief that overcame them as they first learned what death really meant. How long forever was. My legs pulled up to my chest, hands loosely hung around knees, unable to clasp together because of my cast. I closed my eyes and I swear I could hear the sound of Ray sighing behind me, but when I opened my eyes I was alone. I went to bed, earlier than I ever had in my life, still believing it was a dream and I'd wake up like Alice after her adventures in Wonderland. But when I awoke, I was met with the slow, oozing perdure of my reality. The one which I could not wake up from, and the one where my brother was dead.

#my writing #writing #original writing #original content #original fiction #creative writing #dark academia #tw death #tw drugs #tw mentions of sex #tw swearing #tw mental illness #tw medication #alo writes

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pillsxcoffee · 3 years

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Short Story: “The Barkeep”

Each moment of our lives presents an excuse to pursue control. We sit in its grips and seek it while occasionally becoming validated by perceived successes at the practice. The idea of control is the biggest lie that the universe has ever sold us. But without its presence, who are we? I have often wondered why societies failed attempts at control result in such destruction and separation. My only guess is that it brings us down to size and allows us to descend further towards chaos. Our imperfections give our perfect world its imperfect equilibrium, and I believe that it has to be that way.

My attempts at deciphering control from the acceptance, the true from the false, the power to the power-less has led me right here, writing this all out for you. They may call this a manifesto of sorts. They will call me crazy, perhaps mentally ill, they will not remember their part, but they will remember the name, place, and time of the day when I finally broke down and said, "what am I to do?"

The evening began normally enough. I was sitting in a dive writing out my arduous truths while purposely sipping on a margarita that was far too sugary. My weathered glass stained a displeasing opaque brown. It was here where I began to consider my own mortality. At my misery's behest, I requested another. I downed half the glass before placing the drink on a crinkled, disgraced, and damp napkin that read: Cabalo Cantina, Just Like Paradise. While analyzing this feeble attempt at memorable marketing, the barkeep waltzed up to me and stared with an invasive gaze, his brow acutely furrowed. He looked as if he had just seen a ghost or witnessed something traumatic. He rotated himself towards the illuminated bar where bottles upon bottles of liquid relief occupied the splintering walnut shelves. Taking down a sorry excuse for top-shelf mezcal, he proceeded to grab a set of tumblers and swiftly pour two generous shots. He pushed one my way.

"Drink up, buddy. We're gonna need it."

He threw back the drink with an exaggerated gulp; it was almost like he wanted it to hurt. He winced, removed his Cabalo Cantina apron stained by bitters, rolled up the apron, and spiked it on the ground with surprising force.

"I can make ten times in a week on the trawler than I can here in a month. The tequila here is shit anyway."

Nobody batted an eye. He started through the tacky, Christmas light-infested archway and out the tinted double doors. Briefly, I was reminded of my father. I wished I had remembered what he looked like, but all I remember is that he, too, worked on a boat. He caught tuna deep in the unforgiving waters of the Atlantic. Thankfully, these thoughts were quickly supplanted by the view of the drink in front of me. I followed the dearly departed's lead with a shot of my own before returning to my notepad. If this is paradise, I would hate to see what hell is like.

After two more margaritas, I noticed the illuminated clock branded by some obscure Mexican beer company that I had never heard of: 12:50 PM, last call. I didn't need it; better to cap the night off at home anyway. I decided to exit the fluorescent arch and start my walk home. As the doors sealed behind me, I turned left to head to my flat. With my notepad carefully tucked against my breast pocket, I wobbled down the sidewalk. The street danced with a hand from the dimmed lights overhead, which created a greasy, orange hue. I made my way towards the day's end.

As the pavement moved beneath me, the streets became less illuminated and more littered. I began to pick up the familiar putrid stench that coated the air. It was musky, thick, and sour. The smell reminded me of last year's charter out of Chatham; towards the end of the trip, the men became more offensive than the dead fish. Vagrants, beggars, tramps, and drifters proceeded to voice their typical pitches in hopes of finding a generous passerby. I didn't have anything to give them, but I would tell them to get lost if I did have some money in my pocket. Tonight, I stayed quiet, however. We were all in the same boat, one which appeared to be taking on some serious water.

Since I'll be gone by the time this reaches curious eyes, I have particular freedoms that I don't have while wasting away in the outside world. The only thing that is truly mine in this world is my secrets. Even though therapists, social workers, and the like have told me that I am only as sick as my particular omissions. Even if I wanted to share them (which I don't), I wouldn't know where to begin. The darkness harbored under the surface of those truths is a prison, far worse than the one that I would be sent to if they only knew. I have never been known for my veracity; I prefer to live in the realm of the obscure.

To understand the breadth of my circumstances, I provided a bit of a picture in the aforementioned "memoir," It is strictly for your eyes only, and I hope that it adds some context. For those not privy to my life story, I would like to acknowledge that I believe myself or my story to be unique in no way. Despite how much I would like to think that my experiences are so different in contrast to those around me, it simply is not the truth.

As I approached my apartment, I engaged in my predictable anticipatory sigh before entering the lobby. Whenever I get home, I remember what my life is and what it is not. I am reminded of the loss, both monetary and personal, that has occurred at my hand. I try my best to accept present circumstances for what they are, but living in the moment has never been my strong suit. The best that I can do at any given moment is to give in and recognize things for what they are: shit. Luckily, I always have some writing to do; it's what keeps me busy.

At this very moment, I am staring blankly at my laptop screen, which continues to mock me for all of my literary atrocities. Perhaps if I don't end up in prison, Oxford will have something to say. Strange sensations overcome me when I'm with myself at night. I don't become tired, but there's a particular energy that overcomes me, but for whatever reason, I am unable to move. This type of paralysis brings the only semblance of normalcy in my life.

My body feels like it needs to run away. I become stimulated and overwhelmed by feelings I cannot describe. I want to rise up and move, but Newtons' third law has other plans, so I remain still. I have come to embrace this purgatorial, dream-like state that overtakes me. I see visions of the past that seem manufactured specifically for my broken mind to consume. I call them my "could have been," the way that I wish things would have gone. I close my eyes and see a young boy.

He looks and sounds like me, even has that 2-inch scar above his right eyelid, but he is not me. He is smiling, he is talking, he is with his father, and he is happy. I can see him resting on the edge of a broad, aluminum dock. He seems comfortable watching all of the boats set sail in search of that next big haul. He sits next to his father, a slender man of 40 or so who looks far more seasoned than his age suggests. The two have considerable space between them, yet they appear to have some bond I cannot relate to. For the first time, I can see some communication beginning to form. I can hear his father as he turns to his son and says, "my boy, if you will listen to anything I ever say, make it this. There is nothing in this world that is certain. Many men consider themselves experts of their crafts, leaders of enterprise, and patriarchs of their family, yet they practice utter ignorance towards the truth." The eerily familiar boy looks back at his father with interest, "what is the truth then, dad?" A strenuous pause ensued. The tired old man brought himself upright and looked at his trawler docked several feet away. "Nobody really knows anything. Nobody really knows." The man handed his son a tattered notebook with a tan leather casing, "there are more truths within these pages. These are for you, son. Read as much as you see fit, read until you no longer need to, and then begin to forge your own beliefs."

The boy stayed silent while accepting this unexpected parting gift from his father. He remained dockside, salty waves kissing his narrow, swaying feet. He opened up his new notebook, the first page read:

He stands within the confines of his vessel

Between himself and normalcy is a one way mirror

The room is soundproof

Bustling passerby are aware of his existence, yet they are unable to make a connection

It is not their fault - he understands this

His only weapon is his voice.

He yells

Howls for an attentive ear. Anyone

Only to realize that relief will be found in his silence

But only until it kills him.

Reflection allows him to see the truth.

That the vessel is of his own design

He accepts that.

Maybe it is never too late.

The little boy, who now seems more familiar to me, remains locked in place, confused, and not understanding much of his father's writings. He feels ashamed and stupid and reads the poem once more. After his second attempt at reading this vague prose, he hesitantly peeks up, expecting his father to still be somewhat visible in the distance. He is not. The crawler has made its way, the silhouette of the faraway ship begins to mingle with the horizon. Now, it is only the red masthead light that is visible. The boy becomes angry, tears out his father's words, crumples up the paper, and tosses it in the ocean, sure that it will never be seen again. He sits back down on the dock's edge, starting at the next page that simply reads: Just Another Day in Paradise. I wake up. I remember that boy now.

End.

TBC...

#short story #writers on tumblr #writer #fiction #poets on tumblr #poetsandwriters #my writing #pillsandcoffee #psychological

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