#and the moment they DO get hurt and it wasn't you who did it...

[hyperfixiation-station]

Behind Enemy Lines Pt.1

CW: Torture, Canon-typical violence, talk of derealization, disassociation Summary: You were a friendly medic, captured years ago and held prisoner, forced to do do the bidding of your captors. Years later, a man by the name of Ghost is dragged in and changes the trajectory of your life. A/N: I had severe ADHD, and i am unmedicated rn, and it makes it really hard to work on things unless I get the hyperfocused drive for it, so I'm sorry I'm so bad at making the other parts to my fics. Know that I will never abandon them. it just might take me a while. idea part 2

You fought back, at first. Way back when you first got captured, taken from your base camp and dragged through miles and miles of harsh terrain, blindfolded and bound. A medic you were, yes. But your team had trained you with the best of them. You spent the whole time trying to escape, kicking and screaming until they bound your legs and gagged you. You spent the first month of captivity refusing to talk to them, hissing and spitting and pretending their punches didn’t hurt. But it didn't take you long to realize it was better to cooperate, or to at least be civil. Civility got you less broken bones, less pain, more rations, more sleep. Cooperation didn’t come till later, when you finally realized your team wasn't coming for youthey were dead but you didn't know that.

Surprisingly, the whole mouth-getting-sewn-shut didn't happen till a couple years in... they were torturing someone, a man who said he had kids and a wife at home, whose only wish was that they left something recognizable of him so they could get some closure. You begged them to stop. Begged them to stop when his wounds became too numerous to count, too much for you to handle. Begged because you started to care for him as he told you about his son and daughter, how they want him home for Christmas(You didn't have the heart to tell him Christmas was 6 days ago) Told them that he would die no matter what you did if they continued. Well, they didn't stop, and he did die... and you found yourself ringing in the new year by being strapped to a table.

“We warned you to stop talking with him.” They said as they clamped the metal shut over your forehead and chin, holding you in place. “We told you to not get attached, but since you can’t seem to do it on your own, we’ll help you.” The feeding tube came 2 weeks later, shoved up your nose when they realized you were starving...they couldn't lose their favorite medic of course.

You stopped paying attention to the passage of time after that, spent most of your days drifting in and out of reality, moving through the motions with a practiced ease. And it would have remained that way, if it wasn’t for a man in a skull mask with a team- a family- looking for him. 

Your first introduction to him ended up with you getting a broken nose. Per usual, you were shoved into the cell, medical kit in hand, ready to fix up whatever damage your captors had done the their poor prisoner.

The mask he had been wearing when you saw him dragged in was gone, and he had a gash that went all the way through his cheek that would need stitching up. You pull out your equipment, moving slowly towards his bleeding face. 

he headbutted you the moment you got close enough for him to reach, and the crunch of bone and the gush of warm blood followed, not that you noticed. You were still in that dreamlike state, not quite tether to reality in the way you should be. You barely noticed when they tranqued him, and the only reason you didn't finish his stitches is because you passed out too(it’s hard to breathe through a bloody, broken nose)

The next time you approach more carefully, but he’s no trouble. Mostly because they left him completely strapped to the table this time. Today was a rare day, a time when you  could actually feel your feet on the ground rather than just see them. You feel bad as you wipe him down, your eyes flicking over the myriad of scars on his body. What’s one more you think to yourself as you get to work stitching a stab wound to his thigh. Just barely missed the artery here…that could have been bad news. Okay tie it off and- there we go. I think the only other thing that need to- oh, is he…talking to me? I should probably pay attention to that.

“-here?” His voice is gravely, though you suppose yours would be too after being tortured. He stares at you expectantly, and you shrug. You don’t know what he said, and even if you did, you couldn’t answer. You just move to his wrist, snapping the bone back in place. He inhales sharply, but doesn’t make an actual sound, which surprises you. But you don’t dwell on it, wrapping a bandage around his arm and moving to exit the room. 

“Y’ no’ g’nna lemme off?” His voice sounds, “they said y’ would.” You spin around, staring at him. You're not stupid. And even if your…bosses had said that, you still wouldn’t do it. Being trapped in a room with a man who is at least a foot taller than you and looks like he could kill a man with his glare? No thank you. 

You take a step back, heading towards the door. The man lets out a sound you would barely qualify as a laugh. “Sm’rt then.” He says to himself, “No’ gonna be that easy.” 

The next time you go in, you can't help but wonder what they want from this man. By now they usually would have killed him off. Oh well, not your job to wonder. You clean him up, splinting the fingers they had broke when he talks to you again.

"why don't y' let me die?" He says, voice just as gravely as before, "Put me outa m' misery?" You don't respond, just keep taping his hand. IT's something you ad asked yourself, right at the beginning. It would be kinder for you to just let your patients die. But you couldn't do it. Partially because you were punished anytime someone died before your captors wanted them to, but also because you were a medic. YOu were there to heal. You couldn't stomach letting someone die by your hand.

"Answer me!" The man snarls, bringing you back to the present, "For god's sake y' never talk, fuckin' mute." You don't respond, of course. Just finish your task and leave him to his thoughts.

He’s angrier after that time, you’ve noticed. The few times you're actually present, he’s fighting you. Usually not with words, but he bucks and doesn’t hold still. He’s tried to grab your medical supplies countless times, and one time you actually had to be pulled out because he jerked his arm while you were stitching him and somehow managed to drive the needle into your own hand. The few times he does actually yell at you, you’re usually not paying attention. You can catch words like “Dishonorable”  and “Disgraceful”. You aren’t entirely sure of the context of the words, but you can guess. You’ve treated enough prisoners who think that you are the world's worst human being, a blight to the medical field, to guess what he's trying to tell you. 

It's funny though, this man so full of hate. Because, for the first time in goodness knows how long, your feet are on the ground, and your head is level. Something about this man, his angry, uncrushed demeanor, even after weeks of torture, stirs emotion in you that you can’t quite identify. And maybe you should be grateful, thankful your head is on right, but you're not. You so desperately want to go back to that place of apathy and detachment, where your emotions weren’t so strong, were the pains of mishealed bones and poorly healed scars didn’t plague your waking moments. 

Or maybe it wasn’t the man- The Ghost, as you found out he was called. Maybe it was the fact that something in the air had changed. The air was electric, charged with tension so thick you could feel it even alone in your cot. They were watching you, you could tell. Could feel their eyes tracking your movements in a way they hadn’t since first giving you freedom to move around. 

You're not sure why. It’s not like you have anyone to go home to. You were an only child, and your parents had died long before you reached 18. All you had was your team, a team that had seemingly abandoned you. So why would you leave? There was nowhere to go. And yet they watched you. Was it because you were becoming more aware, more grounded then you had been in a long while? Was it the man, Ghost, who had them on edge? 

The answer came two days later. You were in Ghost's cell again, desperately packing gauze into a gaping hole on his side. You don’t know what had happened, but for the first time in years you were dragged from your cell, your captors muttering under their breath in a language you still didn’t understand as they thrust you into his cell. Blood was everywhere. Your best guess was that Ghost had been struggling and an instrument had slipped and gouged out a hole in his side. So here you are, packing gauze into the wound as you try to figure out what to do to keep him alive with your rudimentary supplies. 

You pack another piece of gauze in just as the door goes flying open. Men, dressed in black, wearing the same mask Ghost was, come bursting in. 

“Get back!” The one in the front yells at you, gun pointed in your face. You shake your head, hands pressed against Ghost’s wound. 

“Now!” You make a protesting noise, trying to gesture with your chin. The man looks down, eyes widening. 

“Aw shit- are you the medic?” You nod almost desperately. The man looks at you again, staring at your hands. They are shaking, pressed against the wound as you try to keep Ghost from bleeding out. 

“Fix him.” The man snaps. You shake your head and look up at the man, trying to communicate that you need more supplies. 

“Use your words.” The man gabs the gun at you, indicating he wants you to get on with it. You stomp your foot, shaking your head again. 

“What, what's that supposed..…you can’t speak, can you?” You nod, glad he finally got it. The man groans, lowering his gun.

“You’re coming with us, but you make one wrong move, and I mean one, I will put a bullet through your brain before you can even speak. Got it?” He gestures to the other two men with him, and together you lift Ghost up, carrying him out to safety.

A/N- anyways, here's part one. Sorry if it disappoints anyone

tags, sorry if i missed any:

@redzluvvesage @just-a-harmless-potato-05  @vesna-the-spring @princess312 @norsehorseofcourse-blog @bonniperinktrance @soggywafflezz  @littlebunie @sirbonesly @havoc973 @mommymilkers0526 @thegreyjoyed @pinkiliciousgunp0int @poopoobuttsy @darcellethedreamer @kamote-kuneho

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 7 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: If he's so bad, then why do you crave him so much? You crave him enough to let him be your first.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder and rape, body issues, trauma talk, scars, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, smut, oral sex, (rough) sex, penetration, unprotected sex, degradation kink, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

You didn't know what real desire feels like, until you felt it.

Until you felt him.

And you wanted him, as much as you hated him.

The moment his lips crashed against yours, it felt like nothing you had ever felt before.

Sure, you had been kissed before. Once.

The loser has to seduce the shy girl.

But that didn't count. Or even if it did, it didn't matter to you. Because nothing that happened before that kiss seemed to matter.

A part of you expected his kiss to be gentle - he had made a promise to you after all - but there was hardly any gentleness in his touch.

The first second after your lips met had been a soft, tentative caress. Gentle and careful, as if to test the waters. You lay stiffly underneath him, unsure what to really do. You almost felt awkward, but that didn't mean you wanted it to stop. Quite the opposite.

The gentleness felt...almost forced on his part. You already knew he wasn't the soft type, but for you, he tried.

Until he didn't. And eventually his mouth took control of yours.

You didn't mind.

His lips moved against yours more urgently, the tip of his tongue caressing your lower lip and trying to part your lips, demanding entry.

When you finally gave in to his silent demand, slowly and carefully, he took full advantage of that and slid his tongue in your mouth, participating in a sinful dance with your own.

You were still stiff, still shy, still...unsure. And he felt it.

He pulled back, just enough to murmur against your lips. "Open your mouth wider for me, princess."

Princess. That was new. At least you weren't Hana anymore. Or at least not in that moment.

You reluctantly obeyed and with a low groan you felt his tongue push deeper against yours, harder, more demanding.

You almost gasped in surprise, but again, you didn't mind.

It felt so...

So...

And you were still stiff. A part of you almost felt like burying yourself under a pile of non-existence for being so complicated.

But again, he didn't seem to get angry or even frustrated. Instead he slowly pulled his hand back and tipped your chin up with his fingertips.

"Stop thinking so much. Just do whatever feels right. I promise you, I'm not going to laugh or hurt you. I promised you something and I meant it." His voice was softer than you had ever heard it before and it made something inside of you break.

You wanted him. You wanted him so terribly and the thought scared you like nothing else.

God, when he was being gentle like this, you wanted him even more. It made you go near insane with desire and heartbreak, because you could never have him. Could never have this version of him.

He was the man who kidnapped you, not your lover.

The man who slapped you, not the man who kissed you.

But, shit, he kissed you. And you wanted nothing more than exactly that. Maybe even for the rest of your life.

You were always a romantic at heart.

Hopeful and yet hopeless.

"Okay." You whispered softly and nervously nibbled on your lower lip. "I...I just..."

"I know." He whispered and gently ran his thumb over your cheek. "But that's what I'm here for. I'll guide you."

The next thing you realized was how he pressed you against his wardrobe. You had no idea how you even made it across the hallway and to his bedroom, but somehow you did.

He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, leaving you helpless and at his mercy. But you didn't care.

In fact it made you want him all the more.

The sounds he made while his tongue delved deeper into your mouth made the dampness between your legs increase tenfold.

His hands slowly slid down your arms and over your shoulders, until he reached your waist and then he stopped. His touch was so gentle, almost careful, like he was touching a delicate bird and was afraid it might fly away.

"Turn around." He whispered against your lips. You hesitated for a second, but eventually obeyed, with a slowness that almost made him growl in frustration.

His fingers found the zipper of your dress, impatiently tugging at it, when-

He exhaled in even more frustration when he felt your hand reach for his wrist, stopping him in his attempt to skillfully and swiftly undress you.

"What?" He bit out.

You opened your mouth and closed it several times. How would you tell him? Should you? Or should you just show him?

You were almost sure he was going to be so repulsed that he'd go and find himself a second girl in no time.

The thought made something inside of you die.

"Can I just...lie on my back?" You whispered.

He frowned, but he was a clever man and he immediately caught on the fact that something wasn't like it was supposed to be. But since he was something akin a gentleman who'd only beat you, not force your clothes off you or rape you, he had never seen you naked before. And suddenly you felt incredibly insecure.

"What is this about?" He asked in a softer tone. "Are you nervous?"

"Yes." You said quietly. "But that's not the reason."

Instead of answering, he tilted his chin down and his lips met the back of your neck. The shiver that punched through your body and the sound that left your lips were both feral.

"I know." He whispered. "But I'll make you forget about it soon."

"You...You don't understand." You finally gasped out. "It's...You won't want me any longer."

That made him pause and he slowly pulled his head back. His frown got deeper and there was something else in his expression now, something like confusion and a hint of anger.

"What are you talking about?"

You fought with yourself, trying to come up with something to say, something to do, something to explain, but no.

Instead you simply released his wrist.

His frown stayed in place, but eventually he began to move again and you felt his fingertips tickle the skin of your back when he moved to pull the zipper down. Another hard shiver ran through your body and you closed your eyes. Your forehead tightly pressed against the wardrobe, you waited. Waited for him to recoil in disgust. To push you away and call out God, it was all for nothing.

But the call never came.

Instead he was silent for a long moment and you felt his gaze burn holes through your body.

"Who did this?"

He sounded calm - no, like he was desperately trying to stay calm, maybe for your sake. You couldn't yet tell if he was repulsed or if maybe he was trying to act like he wasn't.

The faint trace of the scar was subtle, but still evident, even after all these years. A cruel reminder that you would never be free of your past. Of the pain. Sometimes you felt like you were made of pain far more than of flesh and blood.

"My mother." You said very quietly, unable to open your eyes yet.

His fingertips followed the contour of the scar in a touch so soft that you barely even felt it. But you did feel it. It immediately made you shiver and gasp.

That was nothing.

The moment you felt his lips brush over the skin of your back, slowly following the same line, you inhaled sharply. Breathlessly.

There was not enough air to breathe.

Your hands were pressed against the wardrobe tightly and you felt your legs shake.

This was enough to make your mind go hazy and your head dizzy. If this already drove you insane like that, you couldn't tell if you'd even be able to have sex with him. Or if you'd slowly float off into non-existence.

This was better than life.

A soft whimper came over your lips the second his tongue flicked out to taste your skin.

"Oh God." You moaned breathlessly.

Good, you thought with the little mind you had left to think. Good. He isn't repulsed.

"Your mother." He whispered, without ever stopping his ministrations. It made you tense, but you listened in silence. "Your mother. Is she still alive?"

You kept your eyes closed and nodded.

A low hum came over his lips.

"Good."

A slow frown formed on your face, but you didn't dare to speak now. You wouldn't have done anything if it risked to stop him from what he was doing.

"And that man? Your neighbor? Is he still alive?"

You slowly shook your head.

"Too bad." He whispered against your skin. "I would have loved to take care of him.”

That made your head perk up and you looked over your shoulder, looking at him with something that was equally horrified as it was…admiring.

“What are you talking about?” You whispered softly.

He nodded. “What do you think? You’re my girl. I take care of my girl. And no one gets to hurt you. No one besides me.”

His words sent a warm shiver down your spine. You knew it wasn’t exactly healthy or…good. But it felt good. And you couldn’t help but feel that certain warmth in your body increase.

The way he spoke of you, with such possessiveness, it awakened something in you of which you never before knew you had that in you.

“But they hurt me in the past.” You whispered, as though this was a normal conversation.

“Doesn’t matter”, he whispered back, “they still hurt you. And anyone who did, will pay.”

You wanted to respond, wanted to express anything, but you didn’t have the time. He spun you around so swiftly and effortlessly that you immediately forgot what you had even been talking about. You stumbled backwards until your legs hit the bed and then he slowly pushed you back. Gently, like everything he did that night.

Gently.

Your heart skipped several beats as you stared up at him like that. Your hair was messy and your face flushed, your lips still swollen from the greedy, demanding kiss and your dress hung loosely around your shoulders. But your eyes, your eyes, they held a special kind of expression that night.

Hunger.

It was hunger.

A hunger you hadn’t ever felt before. So powerful, it was all-consuming. Your mind was occupied with him, unable to focus on anything else than his delicious smirk. The one you had grown to…

Oh God, don’t even think that.

“You look so beautiful.” He whispered in a husky voice. His hands wandered up to slowly undo his tie. The sight was enough to stir even more desire in you, forcing you to shift on the bed, your impatience growing. Your heart was aching with how handsome he was.

If only you could have him like that every night.

He slowly pulled the tie off and it fell to the ground, before he slowly moved to undo the buttons of his shirt. That was when you realized that you would either sleep with him that night or die.

Because that was how it felt.

Like you would die without him. Crumble and suffocate.

Your eyes followed the movement of his hands as he slowly shrugged his shirt off, revealing his chiseled, marble chest. The sight made your brows furrow and you did something oh-so cheeky. You bit your lip. You had to, otherwise you would have probably moaned.

“What is it, sweet girl?” He purred as he slowly moved onto the bed, hovering right above you. “Do you like what you see?”

You closed your eyes when his hot breath kissed your ear. Then you nodded and bit your lip again.

“Good.” He breathed. “Then show me something I’ll like as well.”

He hooked his fingertips under the material of your dress and attempted to pull it down, when…

He hesitated. For a moment you were almost sure you had done something terribly wrong again and you were about to get punished. You held your breath and expected him to swing his fist at you.

“Can I?”

Your eyes widened almost comically in surprise. Your mouth fell open and you nodded.

The sight of you so surprised and speechless made him laugh.

God, what a beautiful sound.

If only you could hear it every day.

If only, if only, if only.

Your heart ached again. But you quickly pushed these thoughts aside. Now wasn’t the time. You could mourn your non-existent, fantasy relationship by the time the next morning came.

That moment was for you and him.

And right then, he was there. And he was real.

And he was gentle.

He pulled the dress down torturously slow, his gaze eagerly following every inch of skin that was revealed.

You felt so naked, so exposed, so…so warm under his gaze.

You swallowed thickly and kept your focus on his eyes the whole time. It was like he suddenly was a different person.

A husband type of guy.

You closed your eyes, forcefully trying to suppress these kind of dangerous thoughts. But it was impossible. You were immediately certain.

You were in love with him.

And it didn’t matter how many water bowls he’d make you lick on the floor, how many degrading names he called you and how many marks he gave you.

You were in love with him.

Your eyes shot open and you looked at him with something akin to pain, but your confusion grew when, for probably the first time, he didn’t immediately met your gaze. His gaze was fixed on your body, firm and yet soft, like glue. He didn’t move it away, just kept it roaming up and down your body. It was enough to make you shiver.

“God.” He whispered huskily. “God, you’re perfect.”

He slowly looked up to meet your eyes again and when he did, the tiniest frown grew on his face.

“What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Am I going too fast?”

You just stared at him, unable to say anything. The way his eyes were soft, the way his voice was, the way he seemed so concerned.

And there we go again.

You felt tears well up in your eyes and you tried desperately to swallow the lump in your throat.

His expression immediately darkened, mixed with surprise and something else. He immediately sat up, moving his hips away from yours.

“You’re not ready.” He said stiffly. “You don’t want to. Fuck, I should have known.”

He attempted to get up and, judging by his reaction, probably flee, but he stopped when he felt your hand on his wrist, holding him back.

“No”, you gasped out quickly. “No, don’t leave. Please.”

He stared at you, his expression troubled. “But you…”

“I want it.” You whispered. “I really do.”

He shook his head. “No.” He said firmly. “Listen, I won’t punish you when you say no now. I don’t want it to be like this. The thought of doing this, when you don’t really want me, it…”

“I do!” You propped yourself up onto your elbows and nodded quickly. “I do.” You whispered. “That’s not why I’m crying. I was just…”

You briefly closed your eyes, before you continued.

“I’m just complicated.”

He didn’t seem all too convinced, but the frown on his face signaled that he wouldn’t try to run off again.

“Yes.” You whispered softly. “I was just overwhelmed. But I want it. Please, don’t…Don’t go now.”

His frown deepened, but he slowly leaned back down.

“You don’t have to do this.” He said quietly. “You don’t have to endure this, to please me. Not this.”

You slowly shook your head. You couldn’t tell him the real reason.

That you were grieving the relationship you could have had with him, in another time, another universe. That you felt like you were falling in love with him…or that you already were.

You opened your mouth to come up with another excuse, but when words failed you yet again, you did something else. You tilted your head up and your lips met his. Soft and tentative, careful and gentle, but it was you who kissed him.

Bold girl.

He hesitated for a moment as if to make sure you really meant it.

It truly surprised you how much he seemed to care about your consent. So far, a small part of you had always believed he’d snap once he got impatient enough and he’d just take what he wanted, not caring if you cried or begged or pleaded.

But that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

And still you couldn’t help but ask yourself if this was solely about the promise that he made you. Because somehow, under all his insanity, there was something like an honorable man. A man who kept his promises.

But you tried your hardest to lock these thoughts out.

To lock any thoughts out.

Tonight was about you and him.

The moment you felt his tongue part your lips again, that was exactly what you thought about.

You and him.

Him.

And suddenly the whole world seemed to fade into nothingness, because all that mattered was the way his tongue felt against yours and the sound that left his lips when you wrapped your arms around him. Your hands slowly wandered up the skin of his back, up to his shoulders. You tried to touch every inch of him and memorize it in your mind, just in case you never got to feel him like that again.

You were pretty sure you were doing something wrong, because you had no idea what you were doing, but you tried to listen to his words and just do what felt right.

He finally pulled your dress off of you, leaving you almost bare, in nothing but a pair of panties. The cold air hit your skin and you felt another shiver run down your spine.

And another one when his hand ran up your stomach.

And another, even harder, one when he gently cupped your breast in his hand.

You were a shivering, stuttering mess underneath him and all you could focus on was the way his hands felt against your skin – warm and gentle, soft and yet demanding.

He moaned against your lips as he gently squeezed your breast in his hand, before he slowly moved it further up to your shoulder, then down your arm. And eventually, oh God, eventually he took your hand in his. He intertwined your fingers and pressed your hand down against the mattress with a gentleness that equaled a breath of air.

He ground his hips down against yours, a movement that made a flash of electricity shoot through your veins. He was so hard. Hard and ready to ruin you.

And God, you wanted him to.

“Are you nervous?” He breathed without even stopping to kiss you. You tried to pull your head back to speak, but he didn’t let you and that was enough to make you moan as well.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“Just relax.” He murmured softly. “Let me take care of you, my sweet, darling girl.”

He slowly withdrew from the kiss, which immediately left you craving more, but you had no time to think about it, because the next moment you felt him press gentle kisses all over your neck. Your head lolled to the side and you exhaled a soft sigh. You didn’t even stop shivering any more.

You wanted to pull him closer, you wanted to beg Please don’t stop, but your lips didn’t obey. Your nervousness was far more powerful than you initially thought.

As if on cue, he pulled his head back, looked down at you and whispered: “If I do something you don’t want, tell me, alright?”

You managed a weak nod, silently begging him to continue.

He put on a cocky smirk and went back to kissing your neck, ever so slowly making his way further down. Just when you thought he couldn’t do anything to make you feel better than that, you felt his lips brush along your bare breast and his tongue darted out and left a slow, lazy path over your hard nipple.

You had no idea you could make such sinful sounds.

“P-please.” You whimpered.

He grinned victoriously. “Please what, sweet girl? Please stop?”

“No!”

He laughed and shook his head. “Don’t worry, sweetness. Just lean back and let me do the rest. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”

He resumed his actions and you fell back against the pillow, your eyes shut. Only then you realized how tightly you had your arms wrapped around him. One of your hands slowly wandered up and down his back again, while the other one tangled in his soft hair. You let out a soft sigh when he moved over to your other breast, doing the most wicked things with his mouth.

You were so breathless and constantly gasping for air, it left your mouth dry.

And then it got even harder to breathe.

He slowly kissed his path down your stomach, making you shiver and writhe in anticipation and agony.

“Oh God, what are you doing?” You whispered breathlessly. You wanted to call out his godforsaken name, but he didn’t have one. So instead you ran your hand through his hair again.

He hummed against your skin as he teasingly licked a slow path down your stomach.

“You’ll see, princess.” He whispered softly.

By the time he reached the edge of your panties, you were no more than a puddle. A helpless mess, desperate over everything he did.

Over him.

He took the material of your panties between his teeth and slowly tugged them down.

“Oh, God!”

You had a feeling like something inside of you was throbbing.

You had been wet before. Felt that nervous twitch, whenever the bad, wicked thoughts entered your mind.

But nothing ever came close to this.

When he slowly freed you of your underwear, you were sure you were about to faint, until-

Fucking hell.

He used his teeth the entire way and when he finally managed to pull them off, he bit down on them and you were sure you saw his tongue dart out. You lay there like a statue, your eyes wide and your cheeks flushed as you witnessed how he tasted the piece of lace that had just covered your soaking wet, most private part.

All you could do was stare, your mouth wide open, as you felt the dampness slowly turn into a pool of arousal.

He slowly pulled them out of his mouth and tossed them aside, his eyes fixed on your own eyes.

He hummed out a soft: “I knew you were delicious.”

You opened and closed your mouth several times, but all that came out was nothing.

He smirked again, but it wasn’t even close to mocking. It was more something like…

Satisfaction.

“Are you ready for me, princess?”

Another weak nod later, you felt him lean closer. The second his hot breath hit your core, you let out a needy, breathless whimper.

You had no idea what that felt like, but judging from the way simply his breath on you felt…

“Keep looking at me.” He whispered. “I want to see your eyes, when I taste you.”

And then you finally felt it. His mouth enveloped you in a way you had only ever seen in videos and you reaction came the same instant.

You tried to keep your eyes open, but they fell shut as if on cue.

And the moment you felt his tongue against you, you were done for.

He began to slowly move it, circle your clit and gently suck on the sensitive skin.

Any semblance of composure left your body and you moaned. And moaned. And moaned.

“Oh…Oh God.” You breathed out, instinctively tightening your hand in his hair.

He let out a soft moan when you did and the sound made you moan in response. The soft vibrations of his humming against your skin nearly made your eyes roll back. You wanted to look at him. But God, it was hard to even breathe.

You didn’t know how he did it. But he did things to you, things that made you feel a tightness in you, like it was all too much and also not even close to enough.

He kept running his tongue over your wet folds, again and again, going from gentle and slow to hard and quick. But the way he sucked on your skin was what made you tremble and ache from the inside.

You were close, you could tell. And you didn’t even need to imagine the most heinous things for it.

“Oh God, please, please, oh God, please!”

He didn’t make any attempts to tease you or stop. He grasped your thighs tightly and propped your legs over his shoulders, pulling you even closer. He hummed again and moved and moved and moved and-

“Oh God!”

You inhaled sharply, tensing up so painfully hard. And then you became still. The pleasure rolled over you in hot waves, as a warm, white light overshadowed everything else in your mind.

You never before came so hard in your entire life.

When you finally, slowly came back down from your high, you carefully lifted your head from the pillow, only to find him already staring up at you. He ever so slowly pulled his head back and looked up at you in awe.

And you stared down at him in fascination.

The devil took over your body, because you suddenly felt unable to wait any longer. You needed to feel him. You impatiently reached for him and pulled him back up, until you felt him pressed against you again.

His hardness achingly straining against his pants, pressed against your warm wetness.

“That was so…God, that was so…”

His lips curved up into a slow smile, but he seemed just as breathless.

Did he get even harder?

You let out a shuddery breath and crashed your lips against his again. He felt so warm on top of you, so safe, that you momentarily forgot that you were so scared of him at times.

You forgot that he kidnapped you and you forgot that he slowly broke your soul.

He also made you Hotteok and he made you cum, didn’t he?

Effortlessly.

You needed him. And you were going to die if you didn’t feel him soon.

“Are you still sure?” He breathed and leaned down to nip at your earlobe.

You nodded breathlessly and bit back another moan.

“I am.” You whispered softly.

And the next moment, you felt his hand slowly reach down. Heard his belt unbuckle and fall to the ground. The sound made something inside of you ache with even more impatience.

You used the small moment to look up at his face. His hair was a mess and his eyes were focused on your body, while he reached down and slowly pushed his pants down. When he felt you staring at him, he met your gaze and raised his brows.

“What?” He murmured.

You suddenly realized you had never seen him so…vulnerable before.

He was still confident, still in control. But something about the way he looked and spoke had softened to an extreme degree. It was like sex was something important to him.

Maybe he wouldn’t just fuck you once and then instantly get rid of your body.

Maybe he would actually keep you around.

And you couldn’t tell if that was good or bad.

You stared at him for a long moment, then you shook your head.

“Nothing.” You whispered. “I’m just…”

“Nervous?”

You nodded.

He hummed softly. Before you could look down to catch a glimpse of him in his bare form, he gently tipped up your chin and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

“We can still stop.”

“I don’t want to stop.” Your voice sounded more confident now. More like someone you didn’t know, but slowly grew to like.

He looked at you for a long moment, before he eventually released your chin. You slowly tilted your face down, your gaze following the sharp contour of his hard body.

He didn’t seem bothered at all by your staring. If anything, he seemed curious. Like he hadn’t been admired like that in long.

Your gaze stopped on his hardened length, thick and long enough to ravage you and throbbing. He was obviously more than eager, but he held himself back without flinching. You were almost disbelieving of such calmness.

You licked your lips as your gaze slowly glided back up to meet his eyes. The look in them hadn’t changed. Determined and ready. But still soft.

You knew at some point he would snap back into that other persona, into the cruel and scary man that he so often was.

But all you saw now was this softness.

And that was all you cared about.

It looked like he was about to ask again, to make sure again, but the look in your eyes stopped him.

You were nervous. And trembling. And even a tad bit scared.

But you were no less determined than he was.

He slowly pressed himself closer, slowly rubbing himself against you. A soft whimper came over your lips and he seemed to have to hold himself back from making any sounds.

He reached up his free hand and gently cupped your cheek. And then he slowly pressed forward.

Carefully. Gently. Inch by inch.

His eyes stayed focused on yours the entire time, checking your reaction.

The moment you felt him press against you, press inside you, you exhaled a small breath.

It was…

Painful. Mostly painful.

You bit your lip to suppress the hiss of pain which still found its way past your mouth. He hesitated to move forward, but eventually continued.

“Does it hurt a lot?” He whispered.

It was more of a pressure, feeling as tight as a coiled spring, ready to snap.

“Yes.” You whispered. “But I don’t want you to stop.”

He clenched his jaw and slowly pushed forward. It was like he was two people at once. One wanted to be careful and gentle and not hurt you, while the other one seemed all too eager to thrust forward and ravage you like a beast in heat.

But he held himself back.

You were sure it was just for tonight.

But he did it. For you.

And you needed him even more, because of that.

A sharp pain shot through your body and you released a soft sound, a mixture of a moan and a sob. But a few seconds later the pain finally dissolved. And then you felt something else.

“God, you’re so tight.”

He slowly began to move again, going slow and careful at first. You felt more and more of him, until you finally felt all of him.

Your nails dug into the skin of his back and you inhaled sharply when he thrust into you harder than before.

Something was off, you could tell. He clenched his jaw tightly and stared down at you with furrowed brows.

And suddenly it hit you.

He was holding himself back for your sake, you knew that.

But you had no idea how hard it was for him to hold himself back.

He had promised you a sweet, gentle, loving first time and that was what he wanted to give you. But what you saw behind his eyes was something akin to pain. He wanted to go harder. He was desperate to.

He was obviously desperate to do many things.

“You can go harder.” You whispered, almost reassuringly.

He shook his head.

“It’s alright.” You whispered again. “The pain passed.”

“That’s not the problem.” He whispered as he rolled his hips against you deliciously, forcing a moan over your lips.

“Then what is?” You breathed out.

“If I go harder now, then I can’t stop. I won’t.” He whispered and gently cupped your cheek in his hand again.

Almost involuntarily, you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, before you met his gaze again. Now you were filled with even more determination.

“Yes, you can.” You whispered, sounding almost firm. “Go harder. Just a little.”

He seemed unsure, but eventually he did. He moved harder against you, more urgently, but not quite rough yet. Still, his eyes fell shut and a moan fell from his lips.

A particular hard thrust as well as his reaction caused you to moan in return and close your eyes as well.

His head fell forward and he buried his face in his your neck. His harsh breaths made you shiver and sigh.

“I made a promise to you. And I’ll keep it.”

That made you gently tangle your hand in his hair again and pull back, just enough to look at him.

There was something in your eyes that made him pause.

“What?” He murmured breathlessly.

You looked up at him with wide eyes and whispered: “I want you to fuck me.”

His brows furrowed. “I am-“

“No.” You breathed out. “I want you to fuck me the way you want.”

He stared down at you for a long moment.

“But I might hurt you.”

You bit your lip and shook your head, gently cupping his face in your palms.

“I said, fuck me.”

And immediately something in his expression changed. A part of the lunatic who had murdered a man came back. It was scary, really.

But you weren’t scared.

You were fascinated.

And oh, you were aroused.

He started moving harder against you, thrusting deeper into you and then he released a low growl.

“Are you giving me orders”, he breathed, “or are you begging me?”

You gasped for air when he thrust into you even harder. The ache between your legs got worse, the need deeper. And his pace more and more punishing.

“Begging.” You gasped out. “I’m begging you.”

“Then beg me.” He hissed. As if to emphasize his point, he began to move even faster against you.

“Please.” You moaned out.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.” You whispered breathlessly. You felt your face flush so hard, it was almost painful, but for the first time in your life you didn’t care. You said the word, because you wanted to say it. And you let him fuck you, because you damn well wanted to.

And suddenly the spell was broken.

“Fuck. Oh God. Please. Fuck me.”

The harder he moved, the more intense that feeling inside of you became.

You never came before from the feeling inside of you, only ever by stimulating your clit.

This was new, it was intense, it was insane, it was-

“Who are you?” He hissed out in a voice that was near furious.

“Your girl.” You gasped out without hesitation. “I’m your girl.”

“Good girl.” He leaned his head down and gave you a long kiss, his tongue pressing into your mouth aggressively while he began to pound even harder into you.

Before you could protest (as if you would have) he pinned your wrists down against the mattress. You were completely at his mercy, you belonged to him and you were in love with him.

You were fucked.

“Who are you?” He bit down on your lip hard enough to draw blood.

You let out a pained moan and pressed your hips up against his.

He moaned into your mouth. “Good girl.”

Then he grabbed your thigh and yanked your leg over his waist, pressing himself even deeper into you. His movements were bordering on aggressive and your moans became louder and more and more breathless. Just like his own.

That was what had been missing back when he pressed into you so gently and carefully.

And you realized you never wanted to miss it again.

“Who are you?” He breathed out again.

“Your girl.” You gasped out.

He hummed and leaned down to bite down on your neck, only to soothe the bite with his tongue a moment later. “That’s right. My cumslut. My good girl. My whore. My princess.”

Each and every word that left his lips made you feel more and more wicked, more desperate to feel him deeper and harder, which you did.

He moved against you with a fervor that bordered on painful and you loved every second of it.

It was painful. But you suddenly realized what you never knew before.

There was a good kind of pain. It existed.

“Are you close, princess?” He breathed before he bit down on your earlobe, causing you to release a soft whine.

You tried to speak, but all that came out was moan, after moan, after moan. So you simply nodded.

He growled in response and pressed your wrists down even harder.

“I’m going to make a mess of you, princess.” He hissed. With a few quick, rough thrusts more, you felt your eyes roll back and your back arch off of the bed and against him.

If what you felt earlier had been an orgasm, you needed a new word for this.

The feeling was so hard and intense, it was almost unpleasant by how fucking good it was.

You wanted to cry and scream out his name, but all you could do instead was dig your nails into his skin, hard enough to scratch down to his blood.

He growled again and started moving so furiously that you felt like you were being torn apart, until you finally felt him twitch and throb inside you. The sounds he made were good enough to almost make you cum again and you watched with half-lidded eyes as he rode out his release, giving a few deep thrusts into you and releasing deep inside you.

Your body was still twitching and writhing underneath him. He kept his eyes closed and rested his forehead against yours. When he tried to pull back, you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Wait.” You whispered breathlessly. “Not yet. Just…Can we just stay like that? Just for a moment?”

He slowly opened his eyes and met your gaze and to your great surprise…They were still soft. Even more so than before.

“Of course.” He whispered and buried his face in your neck. He slowly lowered himself back down on you, just enough so he wouldn’t crush you.

You were both breathing heavily and your hands were warm and damp with sweat.

“Was that alright for a first time?” He suddenly whispered.

And you did something that you hadn’t done in a while and you had been sure you wouldn’t ever again.

You smiled.

“Yes.” You whispered. “It was perfect.”

He pulled his head back and raised a brow. “Not too rough?”

You shook your head.

He hummed as he observed your smile for a moment.

“I held myself back.” He murmured. “I can’t be gentle next time.”

You looked at him with a soft expression and nodded.

“I know. I remember your words.”

He reached out a hand and gently touched your cheek.

“You should know one thing, darling.” He suddenly whispered.

Your eyes widened and you listened intently. Still, a part of you expected a low, painful blow.

But you couldn’t tell if it ever came.

His words left you torn.

“I’ll never let you go."

___________________________________________

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If I forgot anyone, please let me know and I'll fix it!

[reignpage]

how do you think jjk men are with embarrassing moments during sex? like if something embarrassing that happens to either them or their partner, do they play it off, try to inject humor, swear off sex to be a monk?

i read a similar post by an author advocating for well, not just more realistic depictions of sex in fics, but to include some of the awkwardness present in them too?? their post included geto’s hair getting stuck in butt cracks, Toji pulling a muscle, Nanami losing his boner, and Choso full on shitting himself accidentally to help with reader’s embarrassment over queefing 😭😭😭

like yes it’s funny and bonkers but cuz sex isn’t always the passionate sexy fuckfest we see in fics/movies, people don’t always cum at the same time, yes you DO need lube AND prep, foreplay DOES matter, dryness or losing an erection midway no matter how horny you are is common yano?? 😤😤

lowkey wanted to go anon lest you call me perpetually horny 😭 but ignore me if my shit’s getting old

own your shit bae, no pun intended. ur horniness could never get old. I like these questions cause they're like brain teasers. okay okay lemme have a go

Gojo:

says a cringy line

I can totally see him trying something new that he thinks would be super sexy like

"oh yeah? you like that? you're such a dirty whore, aren't you? come on, cum and show me who you're daddy is."

reader will pause and stare at him like, did you hear yourself?

gojo will have a moment of realisation and give himself the ick. even he has limits.

he collapses on top of reader and begs her to forget that, will be a blushing mess.

he'll think about it once in a while and cringe

but in the moment, he'd throw a tantrum if you can't stop laughing and making fun of him.

"it wasn't that bad! you're being mean, seriously. I just got caught up, okay? stop laughinggggg"

gets very pouty, protests, and you have to seduce him back, really compliment the hell out of him

then he'll force you on top and make you take the lead so he doesn't give himself another opportunity to be embarassing

Geto:

trying to switch positions in a tight space and then you accidentally rest your elbow on his long hair and he almost rips outs chunks

probably gets irritated because you've damaged his brilliant hair

takes a breather and then starts back up again

punishes you during sex

will crack a smile if you do

"yeah, alright, laugh it up. but if I develop a bald spot, neither of us will be laughing."

will make sure that never happens again

might even pull your hair during sex to show you how it feels (not too hard obvi)

Choso:

might get too subby lol

like "am I a good boy mommy? am I doing good? I don't want my mommy to be mad at me" and he's in tears

idk how to write mommy kinks lol

and you both have a moment of clarity where it's like, damnnn you okay? didn't know you had trauma like that

he'll get very shy and embarrassed

might even start crying, trying to run away

you'll have to reassure him it's fine and then just go slowly and gently, having more loveydovey sex

late at night, he'll ask you if you really didn't mind because he doesn't want you to be freaked out or think he's not a man

but I imagine it'd become a kink you indulge him once in a while

just gotta teach him it's okay, just don't spring it on someone mid act lol

Toji:

trying a really acrobatic fucking position, whether in the living room or in the shower, gets his footing wrong and slips, smacks his head against the wall, takes you down with him

he knocks himself out

you have to wrangle his 200 pound or something body in to a safe lying position and wait for him to come to

when he does and he remembers what happens

bro is in denial

no he didn't slip

no he didn't overestimate himself

no it didn't hurt

no he's not embarrassed stop asking him

gets very grumpy and will storm off, grumbling under his breath

comes back calmer

neither of you mention it but it hangs in the air as you both prepare dinner together

once sat across each other, you make an eye contact and you burst out laughing

he rolls his eyes but he's got a smile on his lips

"yeah yeah, what fucking ever. you try lifting your heavy ass up whilst you're balls deep"

next time tho, he gets you back by forcing you to endure vanilla sex, going very slow and shallow and overly sweet

makes you beg for him to fuck you normally

he'll consider it

Nanami:

drunk sex, becomes wayyyy too emotional

"sweetheart, you're the most beautiful thing in the entire world, I love you so much do you know that? I honestly -hiccup!- c-can't live without you, oh goodness, please don't make me live without you!"

he's still inside, he's not even thrusting anymore, he's just crying into your neck like a baby

you're brushing his hair, shushing him, orgasms forgotten

might vomit on you a little

wakes up with a killer hangover and a night full of memories he wishes he could erase

"oh god, honey. I'm so terribly sorry. I can't believe I did something so ridiculous. no I know loving you openly isn't ridiculous, but I wouldn't be wrong to say crying, leaving you unsatisfied, forcing you to care for a man child, and cherry on top, vomitting on you is just a little ridiculous."

has to go make it up to himself for being a terrible husband

will spoil you for the rest of the week

or anytime he remembers

might actually drink less because of it lol

Sukuna:

he'd kill you if he did something embarrassing

pray he never does

[milla-frenchy]

Close-up

8k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist Summary: Joel receives a script that takes him back to the memories of your love story. He realizes that out of protective instinct after the break up, he has not been honest neither with his own feelings nor with you Warnings: 18+ mdni. ex lovers reunited, angst, mostly Joel pov, Joel can act cold out of defence mechanism, he has trouble accepting his own feelings, pining, slow burn, pet names (sweetheart, baby), semi public sex, just the tip, soft!joel, oral (f), piv, creampie. Pic for mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions. 

a/n:  this is written for @jolapeno 's dear-uary challenge (prompt here) thank you for this challenge Jo, and it was such a cool prompt 😍😍😍 Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing and for reading this one soooo many times 🥹😘💕 @/saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

I sent you a script, tell me what you think tell me more just read it, trust me

The informal messages between Joel and his agent, Will, were usual. They had known each other for a long time, they were friends, and Will had always found him perfect roles. 

So as always, Joel trusted him- even though the first page of the script, delivered to him by a courier, was not completely filled, making him wonder why. 

In the evening he put his cup on the coffee table, and lay down on the sofa, a soft light lamp behind his head. With his back leaning against the cushions, shirt, jeans, bare feet. Always the same ritual, always the same setup, when he was about to read a new script.

He started reading it, taking a sip of coffee from time to time, until his heart leapt in his chest as he got to a particular scene. 

He closed it and took a moment before rereading the first page, with the name left blank. 

It could only be you. 

That was the only explanation for getting a script without the name of the author on it. And there was no way the scene he had just read, so familiar, so intimate, could be coincidental. Or could be written by anyone else. He grabbed his phone and sent a message to his agent, unable to contain his annoyance.

that’s fucked up, Will

*Will calling*

“Yeah,” he grumbled as he picked up, without even trying to hide his feelings, then he got up to pace the room.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking, Joel. But she’s a great writer and actress, you know it. We’ve been looking for a good drama movie for a long time. This one’s perfect.”

“It’s… damn, Will, it’s our story, ok? Or a part of it, I don't know. Anyway I can’t play this. Can’t play me.”

“Joel, listen to me and think about it. No one would know. And it can be therapeutic.”

“Thera… jesus, you gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Joel sighed as he hung up and threw his phone on the couch. 

Why the fuck would Will do something so stupid and inconsiderate, giving him a script from you? 

At the beginning of his career, his agent sent him one project for a movie in which you were expected to play too. Joel confessed that you two had been together, and added “you don’t bring her up. Ever,” to end the conversation. So Will never did. 

Until today.

He sat back down on the sofa, resting his forehead on his fist, resisting the urge to throw the cup of coffee across the room. He was surprised by his own reaction, his nervousness. His anger. Barely able to control his emotions, he felt so weak, like his heart was about to tear in two again, swallowing him whole. He was affected, years later, as if it happened yesterday.

So, sure, a long time ago he asked Will not to talk about you anymore. But they might have been  friends, his agent might have known about you, but he didn’t know the details. Didn’t know how profoundly the break up had hurt Joel, how much you had gotten under his skin, back then.

And in Will's defense, it wasn't like you never saw each other again, at parties or ceremonies, under Will’s gaze who thought that it wasn't that bad, after all. It was years after your separation, now having the job that both of you dreamed about, talked about, sweaty young adults in a messy bed where he had just made you come.

Will wasn't aware that it was actually that bad. 

Because he didn’t know the way Joel looked at you, when you were together. He didn't know how sweet and caring Joel was with you. He didn’t know how much he loved wrapping his arms around you, and having you curl up against him. 

He didn’t know how Joel used to hold you firmly against the mattress, hands on your hips, lapping at your cunt to make you come again. Because he always wanted more, always wanted to give you more.

He didn’t know that pushing his cock in you was the sweetest, most intense sensation he’d ever felt. Even now, years later, he never felt something like that again.

Will didn't know any of that, had no idea how intense it had been. Because the only thing Joel told him was “you don’t bring her up. Ever.”

The first time you saw each other again, was in a place full of actors, agents, writers and directors.

You couldn't believe he was here, a few steps away from you. Of course, you knew you'd cross paths one day, but suddenly he was closer to you than he had been in years and you felt your heart racing. He was even more handsome than he was back then, if it was even possible. You knew what he looked like, you watched all his movies. In need of his voice, his smile, his gestures, his laugh. In need of him. 

But seeing him for real- not through a screen but in the same room, not some character but Joel, the man you loved more than anyone else, the man you would still call “the love of your life” in your thoughts -, was breathtaking, almost surreal. 

So you approached him, without overthinking it, but as soon as he saw you he gave you a subtle but firm shake of his head. The message was crystal clear - he didn’t want to talk to you, didn’t even want you around. 

It stopped your hesitant steps in their tracks, and the shy smile you had the courage to build instantly disappeared, and your gaze fell to the floor. Trying to control your breathing, to fight back the tears you felt welling up. 

If you had looked up right away, you would have seen guilt sweep through his eyes. But when you finally raised your head, seconds later, he was on the other side of the room. The only thing you could see was his back, which he undoubtedly presented to you deliberately, as if his glare hadn’t been enough to make a point.

All evening, you struggled to keep conversations going, to concentrate, to think of anything other than his dark stare, furrowed brows, and the way he shook his head at you without any hesitation. For years, you had been wondering what he had thought of you, after those years. You just got the most brutal answer to that question. 

The second time, a journalist had done some research and discovered that you attended the same university, graduated the same year. He took the opportunity to bring the subject as Joel was walking by. He probably hadn't seen you amongst all those people, because you were sure he would have gone the other way, otherwise. You didn’t have much choice than to kiss, feigning a friendly closeness that had never existed between you. You had been lovers, then strangers. No in-between. 

His scent, so familiar, invaded your nostrils. He always wore the same perfume, the one you had given him for a birthday. It surprised you but you didn't have much time to think about it, as he ended the hug quickly.

Joel's eyes were shifty when you looked at him, a fake smile plastered on his lips. Which could probably seem real for people who didn't know him, but not for you. Not even years later. You answered the journalist's questions as best as you could, until Joel leaned towards to give you a hug that was as neutral as his eyes on you, cutting off the questions. Then he walked away, leaving you facing the journalist who was delighted with the exclusive material and oblivious to the unspoken scene that had happened in front of him.

Joel thought back to those two evenings, after he’d hung up on Will and before he’d put the script away in a drawer. He needed to regain control of his emotions, and to do that he couldn't continue reading your words, at least for now.

He went to the kitchen for a fresh cup of coffee, and despite him trying, his mind wandered to lazy mornings where he would get up to make two coffees and then come back to the bedroom. He’d put them on the nightstand, before cuddling up to your warm body under the sheets, hearing you moan gently. Sometimes you would fall asleep in one of his shirts, and he loved smelling his scent on you, as if you were marked by him, somehow. It always made him feral, possessive. He didn’t know he had that side in him, until you.

You'd always grab his hand to kiss the tip of his fingers, before sliding them along your folds, feeling his cock harden against your ass and your pussy starting to drool. He would make you come with his digits, his lips against your ear, caged in his arms, then he'd slide his cock between your thighs and your soaked folds, just in time for your last spasms to squeeze his tip. Sometimes he would keep fucking you like that, lying behind you, and sometimes he would roll you on your back, taking his place between your thighs. Until he’d come, grunting, growling, his hair disheveled, and you often fall back asleep, his cock softening inside you, the cups of coffee cold on the nightstand.

He shook his head to think about something else and to resist the urge to take the script out of the drawer. Instead, he took a sleeping pill and went to bed.

The next morning he woke up groggy. He put on a t-shirt and sweatpants, poured himself a cup of coffee, and put aside his good resolutions. He didn’t need the script to think about you, anyway. Time never healed his wounds, he never forgot you or the pain he had felt when you’d left. His thoughts were always hurtful, possessive and raw.

Even years after the break up he couldn’t help but think about you when his wrist fucked his shaft. Even sometimes when he was in a relationship. He hated himself for that but couldn’t help it. He missed your cunt, your hands, everything. But he couldn’t accept the idea that he was simply missing you. 

He always thought that your bodies were made for each other, and you always breathed the same words. He knew you meant it, his cock buried in you, his eyes fixed on yours rolling to the back of your head and his ears filled with your moans, barely able to tell his name.  

Until it was over. 

He knew it could happen, you always told him that you'd have to leave for California one day in hope to live your dream, that you couldn’t do it in Texas. But he brushed it off, not wanting to believe it, not wanting to think about it. He hid it in a corner of his mind, until he had no other choice but to face reality. Until it hit him. That day, he realized that he wouldn’t get to wrap his arms around you for the rest of his life.

He lay down on the couch and started to read. And the more he read the script, the more he realized that you wrote only the moments that had really happened. 

The story, background, was slightly different, probably so that no one could ever make a connection to the two of you. But the moments were real, and it made him dizzy.

You wrote that dance in your small apartment, first for the both of you, that you rented after graduation. You worked as a waitress and Joel was a barista, and you two went to as many castings in Austin as you could, dreaming every day about being actors.

That night you put on some music and danced. He kissed your hand and looked at you. He felt warm. He loved you so much that his heart was aching. He made you spin and you laughed, and it was like a spring breeze in the apartment, filling his lungs with fresh air. When you stopped twirling you brushed his hair and then kissed him. 

The writing was pure and vivid and as he was reading your point of view he felt like his ribcage was suddenly too small to contain his heartbeats.

Over the next two days, he took the script out of the drawer regularly. Slowly touching the paper that already bore the marks of repeated handling, him  lying on his couch, taking his time before opening it. 

He read it all, and the sweetness, the sensitivity with which you described your moments moved him profoundly. The person he had loved, cherished, cradled in his arms, wrote that. 

All the intimacy, the love and care you both felt for each other were there. For several years he made everything to forget the good moments, to focus only on the ending to feed his bitterness, but the fact was that there had been so many beautiful moments. And he could read them, feel them again. Couldn’t deny them anymore.

Your words were so familiar, so true to your love story, that his anger slowly gave some place to something else: nostalgia. Finally allowing himself to miss you and what you two had. He was still wondering why you had written the script and sent it to him, but now he was ready to learn the answer. And he wanted to look you in the eye when he’d ask you this question. But he wasn't sure how he’d behave, when you met. Didn't know if bitterness or nostalgia would fill his heart.

So after two days of silence, Joel picked up his phone and sent Will a message.

Ok, set up a meeting

Because of your busy schedules you could meet only in two weeks. The delay was driving him crazy. 

He made a copy of the script, his copy, which he filled with annotations, dates. Underlining moments or words erased from his mind, out of grief, anger or self-protection.

He got hard several times, while reading some scenes. And sometimes anger would come back to creep into his thoughts, whispering to him that you never should have sent it to him, when your separation had been so painful for him. 

And Will was not the only one Joel said “you don’t…. ever.”

To you, it’d been “If you leave… you don't call me. Ever.”

That morning, as he got used to doing several times a day, he grabbed his copy of the script. He had handled it so much that the sheets were already damaged, some pages peppered with annotations. 

As he was reading, he remembered how you had loved to run your fingers over his jeans when you were watching a movie on your little couch. Playing with him, your hand going higher and higher, just to hear his breathing slow down, just to hear him murmur a needy and low “sweetheart, what are you doing?”, making you smile widely. Knowing that he would manhandle you two seconds later to be under him, pulling your panties to the side and pushing his thick length into you. He remembered the feeling of your breasts against his chest, how you whimpered in his neck while he was fucking you hard and deep. 

He was nervous the morning of the meeting. He took a shower, hoping to get rid of the fatigue and headache from the lack of sleep the night before. He put on a shirt and jeans and grabbed his car keys, put on some music when he started to drive, trying to change his mind, but it didn’t work, he was still anxious. He parked near the building. Once inside he found the meeting room and knocked on the door. He heard you say “come in” and took a deep breath before twisting the handle.

You were alone, sitting in a chair, and he quickly pushed aside the thought of how pretty you were. Joel immediately noticed your hands, pressed together nervously, before you stood up to greet him. He stopped when you walked towards him and your smile faded like that time.

“Wait,” he said, his hand raised in front of him, as he was trying to control his emotions. “I just… Why did you send it to me?” he added without any preamble, his tone harsher than he intended. 

“Oh… ok. Straight to the point, huh?” you said, sitting back down, and removing an imaginary crease on your sleeve, eyes lowered to the desk.

“I never…” you started to say, before stopping and taking a breath. “I think I needed to write our story down.” 

Joel’s sigh stopped you. You tried to keep a low and calm tone, not to show your anxiety. You knew that facing him wouldn't be easy. He had given you a glimpse of his coldness after the situation with that journalist.

“Joel, please, listen to me.” 

You looked at him, and yet you had no idea how his name, escaping your lips, tore his heart apart. He never thought he’d hear it again, and the familiar intonation made him shiver.

“I honestly think it would make a great movie,” you said. “And you must think so too, since you’re here.”

“I don’t know why I’m here, honestly. Except that I want to know why.”

“Would you have preferred to discover it once the movie was out, your role played by someone else?”

His gaze on you, dark and possessive, made you freeze.

“No, I really wouldn’t have appreciated our story, my life, played by someone else, Jesus,” he growled.

He put his hands on his hips, a stance you’d seen him do dozens of times before, searching for words, and then he sat in a chair, pinching the place just above his nose with two fingers. Trying to stop the headache that was threatening to come again. It had started off badly, and he knew it was his fault. He was too stubborn, too cold.

“Who do you have in mind for the female lead?” he asked finally.

“Well… me,” you answered, without lowering your gaze that time.

“You?” 

A part of him, that he thought was gone the day you had left, woke up with a groan. He couldn't imagine the movie being made, you playing... well, you, and him being played by another man. It was unthinkable and made his jealousy and possessiveness stir painfully in his chest.

Unlike you, he hadn't watched your movies. He tried though, when he saw your face on a movie poster for the first time. He went to the cinema, but he walked out of the theater the moment that actor leaned toward you to kiss you. He couldn't stand to see someone kiss you, when he couldn't do it anymore.

“I’m the best person to play this character, aren’t I?” you said softly, interrupting his thoughts. “Just like you’re the best one to play the male lead. Look, I know you’ve been rumored for a role like this for years. I know you’re not opposed to it. So why not?”

“Because it’s not about playing a role here,” he sighed. “It’s playing in front of a camera, things we said, did, years ago. Intimate things that belong to us.”

“I changed some things, no one has to know it’s autobiographical,” you started to say, before he quickly cut you off. 

“I know it is. And so do you.” He walked over to the window to stare at the buildings in front of him. “When you leave someone, you don’t do that. It’s unhealthy,” he said, almost softly. Resigned. He turned to you before adding, “Why stir up something that died years ago?”

He didn't expect to face the sadness that clouded your face, and once again guilt seized him. You were sad, upset, and despite the bitterness he’d been feeling for years, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Joel… I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you anymore,” you answered, standing up and walking towards him. You stopped a few steps away to respect his boundaries, before you'd see his body stiff. “I left because I had to follow my dream, and it wasn’t working in Texas. And you wanted to stay in Austin, to take care of Tommy. We ended it because a long-distance relationship would have been too painful, because I didn’t want us to be unhappy, barely seeing each other, not being able to feel each other often enough. So I left. And I told you all that. You knew it, you knew why.”

You took a breath, after formulating what was oppressing your heart, waiting for him to answer.

“Playing with feelings is dangerous,” he said in a low voice.

“This isn’t a game, Joel. I'm not playing. I’m sure it would make a great movie. And maybe we need to express all that, even years later.”

“Do you remember what I told you that day? The last day?”

“Of course, I do. You told me not to call you. You told me that if we had to meet again… then it would happen. Well, it's happening, Joel.”

He looked at you, confused, and headed towards the door, brushing past you lightly as he passed. 

Just before leaving, without looking at you, he said in a low voice, “my agent will give you my answer in a few days.” 

Once the door closed behind Joel, you remembered the day you left. 

In tears in your car, your boxes in the back, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror where Joel’s silhouette was getting smaller and smaller. Until you could no longer discern his clenched fists, his stone face. Until he was only a small dot, until he wasn't in your life anymore.

At that moment you were wondering if you had made a mistake. You kept wondering for years. To be honest, you still weren’t sure you made the right choice that day. You followed your dream and succeeded, but it cost you the love of your life.

You didn't know what to think about the meeting. It could have been worse, he could have left after two minutes of being there, you knew it. You could have said more, too, but you didn't want Joel to withdraw more into himself. And for sure, you couldn't have told him that you always thought of him when you were in someone’s else’s arms. That you tried not to let jealousy invade you when you thought of his personal life, knowing that you had no right to be. You gave up on that when you had left.

You knew what he thought, how he reacted. Now he needed time to process everything, and you just had to wait for his agent to contact you. You couldn't do more.

Joel got to his car in a blur. He realized where he was only sitting behind the wheel, too many emotions swirling in his head. Years without seeing you and it had gone by at the speed of light. He blamed himself for being cold, blamed himself for not being cold enough, and he was even more lost than before he saw you. He started to drive, the feeling of having mishandled things weighing more and more on his shoulders.

He took another shower when he got home, as if it could wash off his remorse and regrets, the words exchanged playing over and over in his mind.

“Joel… I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you anymore.”

“I had to follow my dream. You wanted to stay in Austin. To take care of Tommy.”

“You knew it, you knew why.”

Did he really start to believe that the events had happened differently, after you left? Had he really done it, to the point of omitting certain things, because he needed someone to blame, to keep moving forward? 

Had he really been that guy? Blaming you when there was no one to blame, just life and the choices that go with it, that we all have to do?

Had he really denied for years that you had left with a broken heart, too? That he had told you to never call him, after those wonderful years together? He felt like he was waking up with a monstrous hangover, and guilt gripped him. Truth is he let you down, and reality was hitting him hard.

Because you were right, you didn’t leave just like that. He didn’t want to acknowledge it for years, kept sweeping it under the rug, but deep down he didn’t forget it. 

And you were right, he hadn’t been able to prioritize your relationship. Couldn’t prioritize himself either. He had always been protective of his brother, but it reached another level when he came back to Texas after being dismissed. Tommy wasn't the same, and Joel knew that he would have constantly wondered if his brother was okay if he had left for California with you. Worried that he could be in jail after a fight, with no one to bail him out. Or that he could be drunk in an alley, alone, spending the night there. Or worse.

“I can’t leave Tommy here alone, with all his drinking and partying,” he told you, expression determined.

“But you need to think about your future, our future too, Joel,” you replied desperately.

Joel had probably hoped that you wouldn’t have left, that you’d have chosen him, until the end. And you probably hoped the same thing, too. 

Right person, wrong time. Fucking sad, but so banal.

So to forget that he was as responsible for the breakup as much as you were, he let his pain turn into anger, and he never let nostalgia set in, or his feelings show up. 

And everything blew up when you sent him that script and he started reading it. It was impossible to continue to deny the obvious, to keep thinking that his feelings were stronger than yours and that’s why you had left. It was impossible to forget that he had told you, “If you leave… you don't call me. Ever.” That he was the one who had cut everything off, once and for all. To protect himself, of course. But still.

So once you were gone, he did what he had to do, he took care of Tommy. Except that he started going to bars with him, at night. Drinking less than him, but still way too much. He took sleeping pills when he was obsessed with your absence, tired of squeezing your pillow way too tight in his fist, his jaw clenched with anger. He moved to a new neighborhood because he couldn't stand living in that apartment anymore where everything reminded him of you. 

When they were children and then teenagers, Joel and Tommy’s father taught them to work with their hands, and it helped them to find jobs on construction sites. And that he finally pulled himself together and helped Tommy the way he had to. It took him months, but he did it, and his parents would be proud of him, of them, if they saw their sons.

He worked hard, kept doing castings when his work allowed it, and eventually it paid off, even if it took time.

He thought about it all, and realized he needed to see you again before deciding on the movie. Needed to behave normally, to let go of his mask. So he asked his agent your number, then texted you:

it’s Joel. Are you still in LA?  I have some questions about the script can we meet again?  I am. When do you wanna meet? tomorrow night, my place? I’ll cook Sure!

He took a deep breath as he sent you his address. He let his emotions take over on purpose, to dispel the bitter taste in his mouth since you saw each other. Now he had to trust them.

The next day he started to cook during the afternoon, the dish that he hoped was still one of your favorite. He knowingly chose to invite you over to his place, to keep his mind occupied at least while he was busy in the kitchen. 

Once the dish was in the oven, he did a running session on his treadmill and showered. 

Anything to keep his mind busy.

You arrived right on time, a bottle of wine in hand.

“You still like the white?” you asked.

He did. Some things never changed.

As you approached the kitchen it smelled so good that you stopped there.

“Still one of your favorite meals?” he asked.

It was. 

You tried not to show that you were moved. Acts of service had always been his way of showing that he cared, and you weren’t expecting that when you showed up.

You sat down on a high stool in the kitchen and he opened the bottle of wine. You had a few sips, silently. Neither of you really knew what to say, at first. Then everything set into place, naturally, instinctively. A little shyly at first, bringing up things from your respective pasts, or present. You asked him how Tommy was doing, and he told you he was fine, that he was engaged to a woman named Maria and that they were going to be parents soon. You were happy for Tommy, sincerely. You had always liked him.

Joel was trying to act normally, to not pay too much attention to the ease with which you were chatting. How easily he opened up to you, telling you about his years in Austin, then his first ones in LA. His first roles, his doubts.

He was glancing at your hands when you weren’t looking at him. At your hair. 

He loved to see your eyes shine when you were talking about something that was important to you.

But above all, he loved to see them sparkle the first time he made you smile, that evening. It hit him, how much he missed it. Making you smile. 

His emotions were so familiar that his heart was beating a little too fast, like a horse freed from its reins.

And suddenly he wondered how he had been able to spend so many years without you by his side, when you had always been his sunshine, liberating his grumpy, reserved nature. 

A part of his brain told him that he was smiling a little too much, but he felt more alive during those moments with you than he hadn’t been in so long. 

Whether in a relationship or not.

And then he felt the atmosphere change, felt that you got nervous, an impression confirmed when you began to scratch your thumb. A habit that dated back years ago, and he'd always take you in his arms, kiss your thumb and tell you that he was there and that everything would be okay. Today, for the first time he couldn’t do all that.

“Are you ok?” he nevertheless allowed himself to ask.

“Yeah, it’s just… listen, I know you wanted to ask me about the script, but ehm... there’s something you need to know.” You took a deep breath before adding “there won’t be any movie if you don’t want to do it. If you’re not comfortable with it. I’m not saying this to put pressure on you, it's just… I just want you to know that your choice is completely free. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it, for whatever bad reason.”

“I appreciate that you’re telling me this, thank you,” he said, in a tone you couldn’t quite define, half defeated, half tender. “Listen, I wanted to apologize.”

“For what, Joel?” you asked questioningly.

“Yesterday. I didn’t really know how to handle all of it. Honestly, I’ve been overwhelmed by a lot of emotions since I read the script. Including anger.” He didn't expect to tell you that, but the need was too much to bear. He needed to make things right.

“I know. I expected it to be complicated, after our two previous meetings,” you said, without animosity or bitterness. Just being factual.

He raised his eyebrows, as if to apologize, before continuing. “I wanted to apologize for that too. My attitude.”

“That’s your way of handling things, it always has been, I should have known. But I appreciate it too, thanks Joel.”

He nodded, then added “do you think we’ll be able to do it?”

“To do what?”

“Work together. To be coworkers on a movie?”

He saw your eyebrows furrow slightly, as you took the time to think before answering.

“Well… the evening’s going pretty well, right? You haven't shook your head at me yet, to show me the door.”

“Ouch!” he replied exaggeratedly.

“Too soon?” you asked, lips curled into a smile.

“A little,” he laughed.

He enjoyed it, that little moment. You’d had so many of them before. 

“Aren’t you afraid of what might happen?” he wanted to ask. 

“Aren’t you afraid of reliving things, that I’ll fall madly in love with you again and that the scenes we’ll shoot, my acting, will just express the reality of my feelings?” 

But he couldn’t ask you that.

He wanted to ask you if you had sent him the script because you still had feelings for him, but he couldn’t say that either.

“It’ll be a low budget movie. I mean, if we do it,” you said. There’ll be some outdoor scenes but not that many. Not many other actors either. It won’t be a long shoot.”

He nodded and said, “can I give you my answer in a couple of days?”

“Of course,” you smiled. “Thanks for the meal, it was delicious,” you said as you stood up. “You can text me if you have any questions.”

He thanked you and you complimented him on his house as you put your coat back on. His taste hadn’t changed. The rooms were simply decorated. As you walked toward the front door you glanced inside one of the rooms, and saw a table with a wooden sculpture on it.

“Oh my god, Joel? You still do the carving?”

“Oh… well… yeah. I never stopped.”

“Can I?” you asked.

“Sure,” he opened the door and you slipped through the gap, brushing past him lightly as you passed and you had goosebumps at the familiar scent. Still the perfume you had gifted him once. Reassuring. After all these years, instantly, it was there. Enveloping you. 

You approached the table and leaned over a piece he was working on, admiring the figurine that was being carved. A rodeo cowboy on a bucking horse.

“Wow, Joel… you were already very good at this back then, but now it’s incredible. The level of detail is mind-blowing.”

You looked at the shelves, covered with other sculptures. You approached them: bears, deer, wolves, rabbits.

“This is really amazing, you’re so talented. And… Do you still play guitar?”

“Sure,” he answered, nodding at a guitar case. “I usually play in the dining room. My guitars are over there. This one needed a little TLC. I just got it back. It’s… well it’s the one you gave me.”

You looked at him, unable to hide the surprise on your face.

“You kept it?” you asked, trying to hold back your emotions.

“ ‘ course I did.”

You nodded, your throat tight.

“I should go, it’s getting late,” you said. “Tell me about the movie, ok?” You looked at him hesitantly, but when he leaned towards you and wrapped his arms around your torso, your eyes closed at the feeling, so familiar, before you pulled away, told him good night and left.

Driving your car, you replayed the images of the evening in your mind. Of course, you had felt his gaze on you several times during the evening. And sometimes you could see Joel again. Your Joel.

Did he think about you as much as you thought about him? Did he suspect that you had sent him this script in the hope of getting back in touch with him? Did he know how much you missed him, all those years?

You had wondered so many times if he had been thinking about you. You thought about the hug, as comforting as before. You missed him so much.

Two days later, he texted you

“I’m in”

He kept looking at his phone after sending the message. The read indicator appeared quickly, then the writing bubble.

“Great, I'm so glad! I’m sure it’s gonna be amazing!!”

He hoped it would be. Hoped it wasn’t a mistake. 

He had to leave LA for several weeks for a shooting, and the organization of the film was put in place.

You sent each other a few messages in the next few days. Then the messages became more and more regular, while remaining purely friendly.

Several months later, the day before the shooting started, he knocked on your trailer to say hello.

You had rehearsed some scenes with the crew, and everything was ready.

The less emotional scenes were shot in the first few days. He didn’t ask for it, but he was glad. Every night he came back to his trailer, played the guitar, and thought about you. 

Seeing you every day was a very strange thing that he had trouble to define. He was happy to see you every day, to see the person you had become. And sad that you were no longer his. Filming these moments with you was like constantly reopening a wound that had never really healed.

That night, he took out the script, and reread the scene planned the next day.

EXT. THEIR APARTMENT -- EVENING He parks downstairs at their apartment, it’s dark. He knows she’s back from a week at her parents’. He’s eager to get home and see her again, he’s missed her. He quickly climbs the outside stairs and unlocks the door. INT. THEIR APARTMENT -- EVENING He puts his keys on the hall cabinet, takes off his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack. We follow him as he walks in the apartment, until he sees her in the doorway of the dining room. He smiles, we see love in their eyes as look at other. HER Hey baby He goes to her, they kiss, he takes her in his arms. She closes her eyes. HIM I missed you, baby. He brushes her cheek with his thumb. HER I missed you too. She takes his hand and leads him to their bedroom.

He stopped reading there, before the next scene, that was the most intimate, the one that made him anxious just to think about.

“I missed you, baby,” he said the line. He brushed your cheek with his thumb, like he had done so many times before. His eyes were fixed in yours. He wondered if he was imagining what he was reading in them.

“I missed you too.”

You took his hand and you headed out of the frame.

“Cut, it was perfect, guys! Go get ready for the next scene.”

He picked up his water bottle and took a sip. He felt dizzy.

You were both wearing underwear and bathrobes. Waiting to shoot the scene.

“Ok guys, you’re ready? Great, let’s go.”

The scene was a close-up of both of your faces during a sex scene, at night. You lay down on the bed first, after taking off your robe. He took off his too and lay down between your thighs.

“Is this ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s ok,” you smiled.

“Action!”

You started to kiss, tongues quickly brushing against each other. His hands cupped your cheeks as he rolled his hips towards you slowly, careful that your crotches wouldn’t touch. 

It was overwhelming to feel you against him, your breasts against his chest, with only your bra between the two of you. It was a whirling moment, to kiss you in such an intimate scene, playing something that you had lived for real before. He groaned and slid his hand to the back of your neck to hold you as close as possible against him.

He felt you shift slightly, turning your hips to face his. He wanted to ask you what you were doing but he couldn’t. He was half hard from the moment he laid against you but now his cock was hard as steel. You pushed your pelvis forward and the tip of his cock nestled at your entrance, pointing against his boxers.

He could feel your wet panties through the fabrics.

“Don’t stop, baby,” you recited your line, and he growled.

He couldn’t believe you would act like that while shooting a scene, couldn't believe you were using him.

He pulled away to look at you and you murmured an unscripted “please.” Eyebrows furrowed, he nodded slightly. His fat head found its way, and his tip pushed your panties in.

It was hot, filthy, forbidden. So unprofessional, but he couldn’t stop. He recognized your moans, and the small team around you probably thought it was perfectly faked, when it was music in his ears. The music he thought he would never hear again. 

Your hands tightened on his biceps as you came. So quickly. He felt your walls squeezing his tip and he almost forgot to move, forgot the script, forgot you were shooting a scene. He pulled out, afraid he would come too, and faked his orgasm, neck tense and veins bulging, your hands caressing his hair at the back of his neck.

You said the next line “I love you, baby. I missed you so much.”

“I love you too,” was his.

“Cut!! That was amazing, great job!!”

There was a pounding on your trailer door as you got out of the shower. You quickly threw on a bathrobe and went to open it.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he growled.

“Keep your voice low Joel, damn… Come in.”

You closed the door behind him, searching for the right words, pressing your hands together. 

“I, huh…” you stammered.

“No! No, talk to me. Tell me. You can’t… you can’t do that and stay silent.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” he chuckled.

“Having you so close to me, against me… I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry. It was overwhelming.”

“Everyone could have seen, what were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking, that’s the point, Joel! And they didn’t see, anyway.”

“Jesus christ you can't do that. You can’t just use me like that.”

“I know, Joel. I know, I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“What?”

You sighed, and that time he didn't try to rush you. You felt him soften, giving you time to find your words.

“I miss you, Joel.”

“No, don't…  Please, don’t say that.”

“I missed you the second I left and it never stopped.”

Hearing the tone of your voice and reading your eyes, this time he had no doubt that you really meant it. And he felt all the tensions in his body relax, as if he were freed from everything that had been oppressing him for years. You approached him slowly, eyes raised to his, and you slid your hand into his, and his large palm gently closed over it. You caressed his cheek with the other, and for a moment he shut his eyes, pressing his face against your hand.

“I miss you,” you said again and he rested his forehead against yours. He gently rubbed his nose against yours, before kissing your lips softly. He heard your breathing hitch for a moment, then you moaned slightly as you pulled away, just to look at him, Joel, not the actor, for the first time in years. He pulled you closer to him and brushed his tongue over your lips, as if asking for permission to push inside. Greedily, you slid yours to his, licking his tongue and lips, until he crashed his mouth against yours. His hands rested on your waist while yours moved up his back, pressing your bodies together. You whined when you felt his hard cock pressed to you.

You pulled away from him again, just to look at his face, and he wanted to pinch himself, just to be sure you were not some dream that would leave him disillusioned and alone when he woke up.

You took his hand and led him to your room.

“Undress me,” you said.

He pulled on the knot of your bathrobe slowly, making the two sides of the garment part, revealing the curve of your breasts that he caressed with his fingertips.

Your chest rose quickly as your eyes were plunged into each other, until he lowered them to your pussy. His heart was beating so fast that for a moment he was afraid it would explode.

He raised his gaze to yours, silently asking if you were okay.

“Yes,” you said. As if you knew he would want to hear it, that a nod wouldn't be enough.

He slipped his hands under the fabric of the robe and slid it down your shoulders. It fell to the floor, leaving you naked. So vulnerable, and yet you were the strongest woman he ever knew, following your dream by leaving for a city where you didn't know anyone. And made your dream come true.

But now you were here, in front of him. So pretty, so sure of yourself, of your desires.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said in a low voice.

He pulled you back, guiding you with his hands on your hips as he kissed you, until the back of your knees touched the bed.

“Lie down, sweetheart,” he said. The nickname was so familiar in his mouth, so normal. You did as he asked, moving back until your head rested on the pillow as he watched you, still standing at the end of the bed. Then he took off his t-shirt, unbuttoned his jeans and got rid of them and his boxers.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. “Haven't felt better in a long time, actually.”

“Me too,” he added, laying on the bed, his hand caressing your inner thighs that he kissed, then he spread them with his hands.

He ran his thumb over your folds, covering it in your wetness until he reached your clit and gently rolled it under his finger. You moaned, spreading your thighs wider. 

He leaned down, his shoulders taking possession of the space between your thighs, the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils. He licked a long stripe from your drooling hole to your clit, then placed his hands on the inside of your thighs, pressing your knees against the sheets, and you willingly let him do it, your hands sliding into his hair. He pushed his tongue into your cunt, growling against your folds. He never thought he would taste you again and an overwhelming feeling was running through his whole body. You were leaking into his mouth, down his throat and he pressed you against him, greedy for what you were giving him as your hips rolled towards him. His nose brushed perfectly against your clit, like it always did before. You clung to his hair as your moans were getting louder and louder.

"I'm so close, Joel," you murmured, hands lost in his curls. "Please, baby, please." 

“Take what you need, use me, sweetheart.”

“Oh my god, Joel… I’m gonna… I’m coming, fuck!”

He didn't let go of you, leaving his tongue buried in your pussy and his nose against your clit, gripping  your waist with his hands, as if they were in their natural place, your flesh welcoming them.

“Joel…” you whimpered.

“Another one, please, baby. Let me give you another one, ok?”

“I’m not sure if I can… I don’t know if I can,” you panted.

“Lemme try, ok?”

“Ok,” you whispered.

His tongue left your pussy, licking your puffy folds before teasing your swollen clit. His middle finger slid along your folds before he pushed it in you gently, immediately adding a second digit. His fingers pumped into you, making your wetness flow down to the sheets. He kept you pressed against the mattress, as he had done so many times, drunk on your taste and smell. His cock ached but he resisted the urge to grind himself against the bed, afraid of not being able to hold back and come on them.

“I can feel you clench on my fingers, you’re gonna be a good girl and come again for me?” he asked, before swirling his tongue over your clit again. “Thought about it so often,” he added, still pumping your drooling cunt with his thick fingers, then licking and sucking your clit.

“Yes, fuck yes,” you whined, just before you came on his diggits, clit pulsing against his tongue.

He crawled over to you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and smashed his lips against yours, your wimpers now disappearing between them.

“I wanna suck your cock, Joel,” you breathed against his lips, but he shook his head. 

“Sweetheart… I'd love it too but I’m gonna come the second you’ll take me in your mouth,” he said. “And I really need to feel you around my cock. All the way this time, not just the tip. You’re ok with that, baby?”

“Of course, need to feel you too.”

“Damn you’re so pretty,” he said, and kissed you.

He grabbed his cock in his hand, the tip leaking, swollen and red, and nestled it at your entrance, pausing there for a moment before thrusting in. 

“Oh fuck…” you whined, making him stop.

“No, no no, don’t stop, I’m ok. Need all of you, please,” you whimpered.

Like years ago, he would give you everything you needed from him. So he didn't stop until he bottomed out. 

“Shit,” he groaned, feeling his balls tightening, ready to explode. He was struggling so hard not to come, but his breath was hitching with every thrust since he felt your pussy around him. 

You kissed, hips rolling towards each other softly and slowly. He loved to feel you around him again, and again he thought that your bodies were made for each other. He was sure of it more than ever. He slid his arms under your shoulders and you licked his neck, right at his pulsating point, then kissed the thin and delicate skin crossed by its veins.

“I won’t last, baby, I’m sorry…” he panted.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, taking him deeper.

“It doesn’t matter, fill me, Joel, please, just like before,” you begged, making him grawl, and he placed his thumb against your clit. It was enough to give you soon another climax and you pulsed around his shaft, digging your fingers into his skin as you came once again. He thrusted in a few times before burying himself, balls deep in your cunt, and shot his cum into your core, filling it to the last drop, his forehead against yours.

“Fuck, sweetheart….”

“I know,” you breathed. “Just like before.” 

For a few minutes both of you were panting loudly, waiting to catch your breath.

Then you caressed his cheek and he kissed you until he pulled away and lay down facing you.

“Come here, baby,” he said, welcoming you against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, the way he always liked it so much. You stayed like that for a few minutes without talking. He just wanted to feel you against him, to hear you breathe slowly, to feel your skin against his. 

“I should have left with you,” he said suddenly.

You straightened up to look at him then said softly, “hey, no, don’t… Don’t hurt yourself by thinking that. You did what you had to do, and so did I. And we met again, like you said back then,” you added, and kissed him, then curled up in his arms again.

“We did,” he agreed, brushing your hair delicately. “So, that script?” he asked. “Was it to… like… get me back?”

“Of course it was,” you smiled against his torso, and he kissed the top of your head. 

“I’m happy you sent it to me, sweetheart.”

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[poetic-vulgarity]

ʍoN ǝW ɹɐǝH - Karina x Reader

Word count: 5K

Prompt: Ever since they were trainees, Y/N knew just what buttons to push to frustrate Jimin.

Maybe she took things a bit too far when she decided to cheat on her.

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Cheating,

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

Y/N always had a way of getting on Yu Jimin's last nerve.

It happened from the moment they first met. Jimin was on her way to class at SM, suffocating as she ran up the stairs at an almost inhuman pace.

She was late. She was late for Mrs. Lóu's class. She was practically a dead girl walking.

She would've been on time if she'd been allowed to use the elevator. But she wasn't an idol or staff member, so up the stairs she went. Equality and equity, everyone.

As she turned a corner and continued her race, she felt herself collide with someone, falling forward.

It didn't hurt, mostly because her impact was softened by the body she fell on top of. The groan that rang close to her ear told her the person she'd collided with hadn't been as lucky.

Y/N let out an exaggerated groan as Jimin scrambled to her feet, flustered. Propping herself up on her elbows, Y/N raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Maybe next time you could scream 'incoming' or something? I'll consider wearing armor to the stairwell just in case."

Jimin's eyes widened as she recognized the trainee in front of her. Y/N was well-known around the company as one of the strongest runner-ups for SM's next girl group.

She had the talent and the personality. Every teacher adored her. She had several friend groups and the face of someone who had been blessed by the gods themselves. Jimin had a few classes with her, but they'd never interacted. Still, something about the bright glint in Y/N's eyes told Jimin the famous trainee knew who she was.

"Sorry," Jimin gulped and moved to step around her—she was incredibly late—when a hand reached out and held her own.

"Won't even help me up, Jimin-ah?"

So she did know her. 

Jimin hesitated for a moment before bending and offering Y/N a hand up. Just as she was about to step around her again, that same hand found her arm and stopped her.

"Are you okay?" Y/N asked.

She had the same class as Jimin right now. Why was she so calm—

Jimin stopped herself.

She knew why Y/N wasn't rushing.

"Yeah," Jimin replied quickly after a few seconds. "Just late." She gave her a tight-lipped smile, trying not to appear irritated.

Y/N's hand was still on her arm. Soft, smooth. Very pretty hands, but Jimin wished she'd let go.

"Oh!" A smile grew on Y/N's face as realization took over. "You also have Mrs. Lóu's class right now, don't you? We could walk together!"

Jimin nodded silently as Y/N pulled her along.

She wanted to yank her hand away and tell her to stop holding it. But she didn't want to be rude, especially to a fellow trainee in her company.

And of course, just as expected, when both girls walked inside the dance studio and Mrs. Lóu turned to them, her dark eyes landed on Jimin.

"Miss Yu, you're late."

Jimin's mouth fell open. Y/N was right there beside her!

"You think the world just revolves around you, don't you? That you're free to do as you wish, leaving everyone waiting for you like our time isn't valuable."

Mrs. Lóu went on, and Y/N turned to Jimin with a sheepish smile, muttering a small "Good luck" before joining her friends.

Jimin felt her face burn as Mrs. Lóu continued to lecture her about lateness. About how she was setting a bad example and ruining her team.

She glanced at Y/N once in a while, trying to keep the glare off her face. But she was sure most people in the room could feel the anger and annoyance radiating off her. She didn't know how to feel about the fact that she couldn't blame Y/N for it. All the teachers loved her and found her very respectful. It just made her more irritating.

Jimin had always noticed the favoritism, but it was at that moment that she really felt it. And she despised Y/N a little for it.

That was just the beginning, though.

Because, from that moment, Y/N kept showing up in her life.

Being annoyingly perfect at pushing Jimin's buttons.

Jimin didn't know how it was possible for one person to irritate her so much.

Everywhere she went, she somehow found Y/N there. In the break room, in the dance studio, in the practice room, eating lunch, walking through the hallways, on the bus back home. No matter where it was, orwhat she was doing.

There was always Y/N. And eventually, Jimin lost her patience and started leaving her polite act behind.

"Here." Y/N approached Jimin one day and handed her a cup of hot chocolate.

"What?" Jimin looked at the cup. "What is that?"

"It's hot chocolate."

Jimin scowled. "I know that, I'm not stupid." She looked up at Y/N and blinked. "It's just... why are you giving me this?"

"'Cause it's cold," Y/N shrugged, sitting down on the floor beside Jimin. The two were waiting for their turn to record a demo. Everyone was getting a private session with their teacher, and the two just happened to be the last ones in line.

"It's not that cold," Jimin muttered stubbornly.

Y/N didn't reply, only sat there with a gentle smile. Her arms were wrapped around her knees as she rested her head on top of them.

It was silent for a few minutes before Jimin couldn't take it anymore.

She took a sip of the hot chocolate and immediately spat the beverage out, blowing out a gasp.

"Shit!"

Y/N jumped in surprise, looking at Jimin with wide eyes. "What? What?"

"Why's it so damn hot?" Jimin said, her tongue sticking out. She grabbed a napkin, wiping her tongue off. "You gave me scorching hot chocolate."

Y/N frowned. "Well, it's cold. I figured it would warm you up."

Jimin shot her an incredulous look, waving a hand in front of her mouth as if it could somehow cool the burn. "Warm me up, not melt my face off!" she snapped, glaring at the cup like it had personally betrayed her.

Y/N blinked at her, then burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand. "Okay, okay, my bad," she said between chuckles. "I didn't know you'd chug it like it was iced coffee!"

Jimin glared at her, feeling her irritation spike. "Who just hands someone a boiling drink without a warning?" she muttered, crossing her arms as the sting on her tongue lingered.

Still grinning, Y/N leaned back on her hands. "Guess I'll have to add temperature warnings to my repertoire of good deeds." She tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "But hey, at least you're not cold anymore, right?"

Jimin opened her mouth to retort but stopped, realizing how ridiculous she'd sound. Instead, she just groaned and placed the cup on the ground. "I don't like you."

Y/N's laughter had Jimin's temper rising. She was practically burning with fury. She turned towards Y/N again, ready to retort.

But of course, that damn smile stopped her. It made her hesitate, made her heart slow down in anger and skip in... something she couldn't name.

It was a smile that could charm anyone. But it also drove Jimin a little crazy. She hated it. She hated the way her heart sped up when the smile was directed at her.

"Wait a little and it'll cool down." Y/N smiled, deciding she had annoyed Jimin enough for the day. "You have a good practice, Jimin."

She stood up to leave, but Jimin stopped her. "Don't you have the demo recording as well?"

Y/N shook her head. "I was the first one to do it today."

Jimin frowned. Y/N had been sitting with her for a few hours now. Why the hell would she stay here when she had already recorded?

"Then why did you sit out here with me?" Jimin asked, her frown deepening.

Y/N froze for a moment before grinning and waving off the question. "We were both a little lonely."

"I would've been fine on my own," Jimin grumbled.

Y/N grimaced playfully at her and finally walked away.

It helped that Jimin was quickly called inside the studio that night.

And it helped that, the next time Y/N approached, Jimin was accompanied by a few of her friends.

"Hi." Y/N smiled, nodding at everyone before her eyes fell on Jimin. She felt surprisingly shy about approaching the taller girl. It was one thing to do it when she was alone, but a whole other thing when Jimin was sitting with her group at the cafeteria. "I was wondering if you'd like to come to the movies with me tonight."

Jimin almost choked on her drink.

Movies? Why would she go to the movies with Y/N? Did she want to torture her?

Jimin stared at Y/N. She just stared, for a few long minutes.

And then a little chuckle sounded from beside her.

"Our Jimin is being asked on a date, oh my God!" Chaeyun clapped excitedly.

"Come on, Jimin, maybe her teacher's pet privileges will rub off on you!" another friend joined in.

Jimin rolled her eyes.

Was this Y/N's point all along? To embarrass her in front of her friends?

"Run along, Y/N."

Y/N tried to chuckle. "Are you sure? 'Cause there's this new movie—"

"I said run along, Y/N," Jimin snapped harshly. She didn't mean to sound rude, not really. But the way her friends were teasing her was humiliating.

Why did Y/N choose today of all days to make things even more difficult?

Y/N's smile faltered for a brief moment as she turned and walked away, the rejection stinging more than she expected. She wasn't used to people snapping at her like that, especially not Jimin. But she still couldn't bring herself to regret asking.

For a little while, Jimin didn't see a whole lot of Y/N. They still had classes together, sure, but it was different. The small interactions they'd have from time to time came to a complete halt.

Jimin hated that she noticed this shift, but she did.

She told herself it didn't matter. She told herself she didn't care.

She had enough on her plate as it was.

She had been recruited mostly for her looks, so she always felt behind on everything. The other trainees dripped with talent, and she felt like she was running an endless marathon to keep up with them.

It didn't matter that people complimented her singing or dancing.

But it mattered that people criticized her.

Heavy breaths escaped her mouth, and her chest heaved up and down as she fell to her knees.

Mrs. Lóu had chastised her again. She hadn't even been late to class; her dancing just sucked, apparently. So, Jimin decided to stay behind at the company that night. She had a lot of fixing to do.

"You're going to burn out if you keep going at this rate." The familiar voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She looked up to find Y/N leaning against the door frame, arms crossed in front of her chest.

Jimin wiped off the sweat on her forehead, frowning.

Every time she tried to keep her mind busy, focus on something else, Y/N would find her.

"What are you doing here?" Jimin said quietly. She was exhausted. Tired of the teachers, of other trainees, of practicing until she felt like her legs would give out, of Y/N.

"It was my birthday, you know?" Y/N kicked the ground, staring down at her shoes.

"What?" Jimin frowned, feeling nothing but confusion.

"My birthday... it was on the day that I asked you out to the movies," Y/N clarified.

"What, did you want me to wish you happy birthday or something? Is that why you're here?" Jimin snapped back, her irritation spiking again.

She didn't care about Y/N's birthday. They weren't friends. She had enough going on already.

"No," Y/N let out quietly, her pride somewhat hurt. "I'm not trying to make you feel guilty. Just trying to make you stop for a little while."

"Why would you do that?" Jimin almost yelled, her exhaustion and stress causing her to act irrationally. "I have to work. How do you expect me to debut if I don't train? Not everyone can be the teacher's pet like you."

Y/N nodded, watching as Jimin walked to her phone to restart the song. She knew she should walk away and never talk to Jimin again, but she also knew that if she did, the other girl would probably spend the entire night at the studio.

"It was actually my first birthday without my mother," Y/N said softly, her hands slipping into her pockets.

Jimin sighed, her heart faltering at the confession. She hated how Y/N's big, sad eyes always made her feel so guilty. Jimin knew what it was like to be away from home, away from family on a birthday.

It was a terrible feeling.

But she shook her head, forcing the sympathy away as she turned back toward the practice room.

"She passed away earlier this year."

Jimin stopped in the middle of the hallway, all the anger draining out of her in an instant.

Her heart ached, and her hands trembled as she turned to look back at Y/N.

For once, the younger girl looked completely honest—no teasing or playfulness behind her eyes. "I'm not trying to guilt-trip you or anything," Y/N said after a gulp. "I just... annoying you has been one of the few things that make me happy these days. So, I'd appreciate it if you didn't go vegetative."

Jimin wanted to say something to comfort Y/N, but she didn't know how. It would be awkward. It wouldn't feel right.

She wasn't close with Y/N. They barely knew each other.

So instead, she took a deep breath to compose herself.

"I'll... go home," Jimin managed to say after a few painfully long moments.

Y/N nodded, her familiar, gentle smile finally returning. "I appreciate that."

She turned to leave, trusting Jimin to keep her word. "Take care of yourself, Jimin-ah."

Jimin watched as the younger girl walked away, her heart still pounding in her chest. She couldn't put a finger on what this feeling was, but it was almost painful.

The guilt and frustration for snapping at Y/N, the sympathy for her loss, the sadness, the anxiety, the ache in her chest—everything.

Jimin didn't know how to deal with it all. She really wished Y/N hadn't told her about her mother.

She really wished things could go back to how they were—that she could go back to pretending to hate Y/N.

The truth was, she didn't really.

As the weeks went by, Jimin found herself almost watching over the younger girl.

Y/N was popular around SM. She had several groups of friends and plenty of people practically begging for her attention.

But to Jimin, she still seemed lonely. She didn't know why, but Y/N's smile always looked fake when she was with other people. It wasn't as gentle or soft as the ones she gave her.

"Why do you always take the stairs?"

Y/N jumped at the voice, turning to see Jimin leaning casually against the staircase railing.

"What?"

Jimin shrugged. "Mrs. Lóu gave you the key card to use the elevator so you could grab the books she wanted. Why do you still insist on taking the stairs?"

Y/N blinked at Jimin, her jaw dropping in surprise. She wasn't used to Jimin initiating conversations, much less noticing things about her.

"I... feel claustrophobic in tight spaces. It's a whole thing," Y/N stammered, scratching the back of her head awkwardly.

Jimin nodded in understanding, though she didn't miss the way Y/N's ears turned red.

"Right." She cleared her throat, hating how awkward she sounded. "You haven't been as talkative lately. You used to pester me every day."

"Is it bad that I'm not bothering you anymore?" Y/N teased, smiling warmly.

Jimin rolled her eyes, suppressing the smile tugging at her lips.

Why did Y/N have to be so teasing and charming?

Jimin wasn't used to people like her. Everyone else she knew was so serious about training, always laser-focused on debuting.

But Y/N was different. She was bubbly and kind and annoying, and Jimin couldn't stop her heart from racing when Y/N looked at her with those pretty eyes. Maybe that's why everyone else seemed to like Y/N. 

"Don't push it," Jimin said, rolling her eyes as she started making her way down the stairs. "Let's go out for coffee. Come on."

Y/N raised her eyebrows.

Was Jimin voluntarily spending time with her?

What was this? Some sort of fever dream?

Shaking her head, Y/N quickly followed Jimin down the stairs.

"You're not about to murder me, right?" Y/N joked, nudging Jimin's shoulder.

Jimin snorted. "Not today, at least."

She tried to ignore the way her heart skipped at Y/N's playful joke. Or the way the younger girl casually touched her shoulder, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Jimin had never had many friends at SM. And even the ones she did have were always competitors first and friends second.

Y/N was different.

Jimin was starting to not mind Y/N as much.

Their coffee dates became more frequent, and the two started spending more time together at SM as well. There were late-night practices, countless sleepovers, and they even began getting to know each other's friends.

One of those friends was Minjeong, a rather shy girl with the voice of an angel.

Minjeong was one of Y/N's closest friends—one of the few people she felt she could truly trust at SM. Introducing her to Jimin felt like sharing a precious little secret.

It ultimately paid off.

"Seriously, what did you do to make Miss Lóu like you so much?"

Y/N rolled her eyes softly and buried her head in her pillow—which happened to be Jimin's shoulder at the moment.

Jimin's roommate had left for the night, so the three took the opportunity to have a sleepover. The bunk bed was tiny, but somehow, they'd managed to squeeze themselves in.

Of course, Jimin had to bring Miss Lóu up.

"Come on." Jimin gently tilted her shoulder, nudging Y/N in the process. "Tell us your secrets."

"I didn't do anything," Y/N groaned, hiding her face deeper in Jimin's shoulder.

Jimin rolled her eyes but didn't comment on the way Y/N's breath tickled her neck or how she could feel the younger girl's steady heartbeat.

If her hands were free, she might have even wrapped an arm around Y/N's waist.

Instead, she kept busy playing with Y/N's hair.

"Why does she like you so much, then?"

"Probably because of my stunning personality," Y/N teased back.

Jimin rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. She hated admitting how much she enjoyed spending time with Y/N.

"I thought it was because you ran errands for her," Jimin said playfully, her eyes glinting with mirth.

She wanted to pull Y/N closer, to smell that familiar vanilla scent again. Instead, she pushed the feeling down and focused on keeping her other hand around Minjeong, who was already asleep. Jimin envied how calm and peaceful the smaller girl seemed to be.

"That too, I suppose," Y/N hummed softly as if in deep thought before poking Jimin's stomach.

Jimin swatted Y/N's hand away with a scowl, trying not to let it show how much the younger girl's touch affected her. She tried so hard to act cool and disinterested, but her heart always betrayed her in the end.

"Stop it," Jimin whispered, half-heartedly pushing Y/N's hand away again. "You always have to bother me!"

"You're very easy to bother," Y/N chuckled, continuing to poke at Jimin.

"Y/N, I can literally throw you off the bed right now." Jimin's glare lacked any real heat.

She tried to stop the smile threatening to break out. She wanted to act mad, but everything Y/N did made her want to laugh and smile.

"You wouldn't."

Well, it wasn't her intention, but when another finger jabbed her side, Jimin let out a loud shriek and instinctively shoved Y/N away.

The younger girl went tumbling off the small bed, landing on the floor with an ungraceful thud.

Jimin couldn't help but snort in laughter as Y/N groaned in pain, sitting up with a scowl.

Minjeong, now awake, didn't look amused at being woken up in the middle of the night. "You guys suck," she muttered, burying her face back into the pillow.

Y/N groaned and flopped onto her back on the floor. "We should go out for ice cream."

"It's almost two in the morning, Y/N," Jimin said, rolling her eyes as she swung her legs off the bed and walked over to help her up. "I don't think they sell ice cream now."

"There's a convenience store down the block," Y/N said brightly, looking up at Jimin with hopeful eyes. "We should go."

"It's cold outside," Jimin protested weakly.

Even she could hear the lack of conviction in her voice. She already knew that, in a few minutes, she'd be outside walking to the convenience store with a hyper Y/N anyway.

And she was almost 100% correct.

The only thing she hadn't accounted for was Minjeong being dragged outside too, bundled up and grumbling as Y/N practically skipped ahead of them. The numbers added up perfectly.

And it didn't matter how grumpy they both wanted to be. Sneaking out was always thrilling, and the fresh night air was welcoming and exciting. By the time the three girls walked inside the small corner store, giggles were escaping their mouths again.

It made them forget all their responsibilities for the night.

For once, they were normal teenagers, going out with their friends to get ice cream in the middle of the night. They were normal girls, with normal, fun lives.

Jimin wished she could stay like this forever.

Though as they walked into the small store, she almost felt tempted to take hold of Y/N's hand as the younger girl dragged them towards the freezer.

It didn't happen that particular night, especially because Jimin felt shy with Minjeong close by. But it happened a few weeks after that night, when it was just Y/N and her.

Instead of being ice cream, they went for soju.

"It's almost your birthday, Jimin-ah. We need to celebrate."

It didn't matter how many times Jimin chastised her for not addressing her in the proper formality tones. It didn't matter how many times she tried to protest the decision.

The two soon found themselves lying on the floor of Jimin's bedroom. Speeches slurred and unshakable smiles on their faces.

"I don't know, honestly. I thought this friend group would be different, you know?" Y/N confessed quietly, eyes drawn to the ceiling. "The others were fine, but I knew everyone was fake. With this friend group, I genuinely thought that there would be no drama. No talking behind someone's back."

Jimin let out a small snort and pushed herself up so she was sitting. "It's always the same thing," she muttered, grabbing the bottle of soju from the nightstand and taking a swig.

She turned her attention back to Y/N, who looked almost angelic with her wide eyes and rosy cheeks. Jimin couldn't have guessed if it was the alcohol going to her head or the moonlight casting a glow to Y/N's face, but the younger girl looked breathtaking tonight.

"No, I know," Y/N sighed, eyebrows drawn to a frown as she turned to Jimin. "But things seemed different this time."

Y/N felt ridiculous in more ways than one. She got along with many people at SM, but she always knew people mostly used her to get higher rankings and to gather more contacts. This time, she genuinely believed her friends weren't like that. Earlier that day, she walked in on them talking about her behind her back.

"I'm such an idiot." She covered her eyes with her arms.

Jimin reached out and gently turned Y/N's face to look at her instead. Jimin's fingers lingered on the younger girl's skin for a moment, feeling the warmth on her cheeks.

The alcohol made Jimin bold. She brushed her thumb against Y/N's cheek just to see what it felt like.

She ignored how her heart pounded against her chest.

"They were the assholes, not you. If anyone should be feeling like that, it's them."

Y/N gulped, eyes fixed on Jimin's. She trusted the older girl with her life, which was honestly scary. Most people in her life found a way of leaving, and it was one thing for her friends around the company to do so, it was another thing if Jimin did it.

"Would you ever do the same?"

Jimin swallowed, her heart thundering in her chest for a very different reason now. She didn't know what to say.

Y/N was so close and warm. It was intoxicating. Jimin couldn't concentrate with her heart pounding like that. With her stomach clenching and unclenching in anticipation.

Her thumb was still brushing against Y/N's cheek, so she focused on that instead. At least until her brain found a way to think of words.

"No," Jimin murmured, almost breathless. "Never. Would you?" She asked back, a small smile growing on her face.

Y/N didn't hesitate to shake her head, eyes full of honesty. She acted as if it was her life mission to never betray Jimin. "I would never. It was hard enough getting you to actually like me."

Jimin's chuckle came out a little forced, almost breathless and shaky. She couldn't focus with the way Y/N's dark eyes seemed to pierce right through her and straight to her heart.

Jimin's tongue suddenly felt dry and her heartbeat echoed in her ears. The soju was definitely going to her head tonight.

"I do... I do like you," she said back, her thumb still moving from side to side. It was almost addictive the way Y/N's skin felt beneath her fingers.

"I like you a lot," Jimin murmured, moving her hand to cup Y/N's cheek properly. She ran her thumb across the other girl's warm skin. Y/N's eyes fluttered a little, and the sight made a pleasant warmth spread across Jimin's body.

She wondered briefly if Y/N felt the same thing. If her heart was also racing. If her stomach was clenched tightly, or her body felt like it was burning with every passing second the two of them spent so close to one another.

All it'd take was a small move and she could taste Y/N's lips.

For just a second, she let herself give in to the intoxicating feeling.

Their noses brushed each other before their lips met.

It must've been only for a moment or two, but for Jimin, time seemed to stand still.

Her stomach dropped. Her heart slammed against her chest, and all she could feel and smell was Y/N. It was intoxicating, and she desperately wanted more.

Then, Jimin pulled back like she was burned, eyes wide in horror as she looked at Y/N.

"I- uh- I-"

She had been prepared for a lot of things. Embarrassment, being yelled at, possibly getting thrown off the building.

She had not been prepared for Y/N to smile so softly. So tenderly. Like Jimin had just made her the happiest person on earth.

Her heart ached in her chest, and Jimin found herself leaning down to capture Y/N's lips with her own again. The kiss was gentle. Hesitant. As if she was afraid of startling the other girl.

And then it grew warmer and quicker, more desperate.

Jimin felt like she was floating. Y/N tasted so sweet, and her body felt so warm and soft. She was intoxicating. Jimin wanted more.

She moved on top of Y/N, her heart jumping to her throat as their stomachs brushed together. Her hands found their way to Y/N's hips, holding onto the other girl for dear life.

The two stayed there for hours on end. Enjoying the night. Enjoying each other.

No responsibilities or fake friends.

Just the two of them.

Only a week after that, after going on more dates than classes, the two were officially dating.

And things went well. They stuck by each other's sides while the world tilted around them. They debuted, along with Minjeong and two other trainees—Yizhou and Aeri. And they faced the rough world of Kpop together.

Jimin, or Karina, as the leader of Aespa.

Y/N as the center.

It didn't matter how much stress or pressure they were under. Things didn't change between the two of them. They were still just Jimin and Y/N. Only much closer than before. Only much more desperate for each other's love and company.

They loved each other. Desperately. There was nothing that could pull them apart. Not fame, not their schedules, not even the rest of the members who teased them about their relationship like they were annoying parents.

"Ugh, look at them," Aeri started, making both Jimin and Y/N turn to see them already looking at them, grins on their faces.

"Agh," Minjeong groaned, wrinkling her nose. "Why are you guys like that?"

Jimin raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly to look at Minjeong with amusement. "Like what? In love?" She asked, her gaze briefly traveling to Y/N before returning to the two girls in front of her.

Ning pretended to gag, and Y/N threw a pillow at her. "Dumbass."

Jimin wrapped an arm around Y/N's waist and pulled her a little closer, laughing softly at the interaction.

It was the end of the year, and to celebrate the end of 2023 and the arrival of 2024, Aespa chose to be a part of a big award show. Well, they were forced, but potatoes, potatoes.

Jimin couldn't help but let out another laugh when Y/N threw a pillow at Aeri next. She held Y/N tight as she watched the two girls bicker among each other. Her gaze shifted to Minjeong, who was giving her the most annoying, knowing grin, but Karina just rolled her eyes playfully.

They ended up winning Best Artist at the end of the night. It left Karina smiling so hard her cheeks hurt, and she had a feeling it wasn't just because of the win.

She was standing on stage with her best friends and her beautiful girlfriend, with adoring fans applauding her.

She was on top of the world.

Though it all got quickly swiped from under her feet.

Y/N excused herself for a moment to go to the restroom and didn't come back.

Karina didn't think much of it. It happened.

Sometimes when things got too much, Y/N needed to be on her own for a little bit.

So, she waited. She smiled and waved as fans snapped pictures and her members chatted around her.

Then she waited some more. Then even more.

Y/N didn't come back.

Jimin's smile grew smaller, her heart dropping into her stomach. She tried not to think about the worst-case scenarios. Maybe the line was just too long for the restroom, and Y/N was waiting for her turn.

Eventually, she got so worried she decided to go look for her girlfriend herself.

The bathroom was practically empty, since most idols were sitting on stage—watching the show. Aespa's waiting room only had a few staff members mingling around. And Jimin had no other idea of where to look, so she ended up just walking around, her eyebrows furrowed in worry as she looked for her girlfriend.

She found her after a good ten minutes of looking, tucked away in a private hallway of the backstage area.

Y/N was leaning against a wall, hands pressed against another idol's abdomen as she kissed him.

She was kissing him.

He had her pressed against the wall.

And they were kissing.

Karina felt like she was going to throw up.

It felt like the air was punched out of her as she stood there in shock, staring at the two.

No. No.

Y/N wouldn't do that.

She wouldn't.

She never...

Karina swallowed hard, her heart sinking into her stomach. She stumbled back from the hallway, trying to get away.

By the time Y/N turned her eyes and saw the familiar figure of her girlfriend running away, it was too late.

"JIMIN!"

[upon-sunflower-trails]

it cries a soft weep like mine

nam-gyu x reader | oneshot | 1965 words

songfic, i guess? based on eric by mitski. if i'm being honest, this fic was really cathartic for me to write.

warnings: nsfw. pretty fucking toxic relationship, nothing physically or sexually abusive, but it's really toxic. fairly graphic depictions of sex. emotional abuse. manipulation. dacryphilia.

You like control, well, I do too

Take off my clothes and watch me move

You can come closer, I'll let you hurt me

How you choose

It had been a little over six months since you decided to pursue a relationship with Nam-gyu. You'd met him through a mutual friend, where the attraction was almost instantaneous.

That's all it seemed to be. Purely physical attraction. You knew you wanted more, to have a relationship that was full of genuine intimacy. You wanted the sort of love that led to late night conversations in bed, with your hands threaded in his hair as you both looked up at the ceiling, gentle smiles on your faces.

Nam-gyu was not that kind of lover. It was all about how far he could take things without you pushing back. He used you for sex and not much else— it's not like he was ever home. You couldn't tell if you preferred the crippling solitude that settled in your gut when he was out doing god-knows-what during the day, or if you wanted to cling to him despite the ways he made it clear you were of no importance to him.

In the beginning, you pushed back. You two would constantly argue over the smallest of things. He wanted to be his own person, even if it meant disrespecting his relationship with you. You still had enough strength to stand your ground, to yell back as he slammed his fist against the counter. 

You still remembered the first time you had come home to him in bed with someone else, as they scurried out of the door as Nam-gyu laid still in bed with a smirk on his face, disregarding the angry tears streaming down your face as you shouted at him like a rabid dog barking at its owner. 

You wanted to leave then, but he convinced you to stay the same way he always did. Pleading with you, pretending he cared in that moment— promising he would change, that he had a moment of weakness. Things had been so difficult for him, he wasn't in the right state of mind. And then he'd have you bare in front of him, knowing he would be able to reel you back in any time.

Help me with the zipper on my skirt, it's stuck

As you kneel, I'll be watching you fix me

This view of you, of the top of your head

Makes me forgive you

After a few months, even your mutual friends could tell things weren't right between you and your boyfriend. You had become more withdrawn and careful with your words. You refused to drink, knowing it would lead to you breaking down and spilling your guts to anyone in proximity to you. 

Nam-gyu paraded you around as if you were an exotic pet on a leash. He would shut you up if you even dared to speak in front of the people who were no longer your friends, but his. He convinced you that their worried glances were instead glares of disgust, that everyone knew how mean you were to him behind closed doors. You believed him; how could you yell at him when he had been trying so hard to get better?

At one get-together, the same person you had caught him sleeping with was there. Even in your wounded state, it festered— festered until you could feel every rational part of you become infected with blind rage. You snapped as he placed an arm on theirs after ignoring you all night, even though to anyone who was watching it was obvious he was simply helping to steady them after they had fallen.

You were made to be the fool. Onlookers saw you as insecure, jealous, crazy. Nam-gyu played the part of the hurt boyfriend who couldn't believe the accusations you were throwing at him. Everyone believed him, because why would they trust you? You had been acting strange and distant for months now.

That night, Nam-gyu hadn't berated you. He simply helped you undress, murmuring that he would make it up to you.

"Don't know why you always make me out to be the bad guy, baby." "I was just tryin' to help them. Didn't you see them fall?" "We already talked about this, why do you keep bringing it up?" "Am I not allowed to have friends now? I'll just stop talking to them, if that's what you want. In fact, I'll stop going out entirely."

He said it all as he helped you out of the shoes that were blistering your feet, unzipping the skirt you had been fiddling with all night. He looked up at you through his lashes, eyes glistening as he did his best to seem hurt by your accusations. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he jutted out his bottom lip, wailing that the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

So you let him back in again. You turned a blind eye yet again to all the trouble he had caused you, because at least he was a good fuck for the night.

But how long, how long can we play this way?

I'm tired, I'm tired of not loving you

My heart, my heart wants to hold you

But I know, I know, I know the rules

Six months in, you knew you held nothing but an odd mix of sorrow and contempt for Nam-gyu. You tried to rationalize it, that this was what love was really supposed to feel like. 

The only physical intimacy he engaged in with you was sex. It was never gentle, or soft, or tender; it was bordering on violent and possessive, despite you not truly belonging to him. And as soon as he had spilt himself into you, he would turn away and not allow you to hold or touch him. He claimed he never saw the point of cuddling or any sort of aftercare.

You knew he heard the sobs that racked your body every night. As you clutched the comforter close to your bare chest, pillow wet as the thick seed between your legs served as a constant reminder of what you were putting yourself through.

Some nights, you would reach out as he was sleeping, desperate to brush the stray hairs from his face. He truly looked peaceful like this, his resting state making you forget how cruel he could be. Every time you outstretched your limbs, craving any sort of loving embrace, you retracted at the last minute. You knew to roll back over and force your eyes shut, praying that perhaps this was all just a bad dream you were going to wake up from. That you were in such a happy relationship in real life, you were forced to have constant nightmares of what a terrible relationship would look like.

And every morning, as harsh sunlight beat in through the blinds on your face, you were reminded that this was your reality. That you would turn over, and Nam-gyu would be gone— not in the way that he had never existed, as the divet in the mattress suggested, but that he left without bidding you farewell as any good lover should.

You knew you weren't in love with him. How could you be? You despised him, deep down, even if you never admitted it to yourself. But you had promised yourself to him at some point down the line, and he hadn't dumped you on the side of the road yet.

So, for now, you stayed.

Blue light, dark room, the white of your teeth

As you smile at my trembling shoulders

But your skin, did you notice your skin?

It cries a soft weep like mine

You always tended to cry during sex with Nam-gyu. Perhaps he had just gotten used to it, or he had twisted in his mind that they were tears of pleasure. Either way, it didn't matter.

You enjoyed the release, yes, you only stayed with him for the pleasure. Well, that was what you told yourself. 

You wept as he thrust into you, because it was the only time the relationship felt real. His presence was overpowering, as the stench of his cologne settled into your nostrils while the cold sensation of his rings against your sides were the only thing keeping your mind tethered to reality.

He would growl into your shoulder as he bit and nipped at you, leaving marks that you never hesitated to cover (since they were a reminder that you were with him). His teeth shone in the low light of your "shared" bedroom, amusement coming out as a hiss as you cried out his name, a mix of pleasure and despair at your current situation.

Insults and degradation would be hurled your way under the guise of him "getting too into the moment." You always tried to ignore when he would moan out someone else's name. It only made you cry harder, and that only made him rougher. You guessed that your sobs spurred him on, that in some twisted sort of way seeing you in such a broken state aided his arousal. You never wanted to think too much into it, lest you begin to bawl even more.

Every once in a while, on extremely rare occasion, he would let a tear slip as well. Maybe it was a sign he was still human, too. That deep down, he felt sorry for what he had put you through. He was always quick to hide it as soon as it happened, and just like that he would go back to the same Nam-gyu he always was.

Those nights, you would always hear sniffling and muffled sobs beside you as you wiped your silent tears away.

I'll sell, I'll sell my whole to you

What's my, what's my, what's my price?

How about, how about just a part of you?

You were too deep in to leave when Nam-gyu finally began investing your money in things as well. He had lost everything already, and now needed your financial aid to pick him up off the ground. You wanted to be the perfect partner to him, to support him in his time of need. You tried to find any positive you could about him as you got deeper and deeper into the relationship, making decisions that would only solidify your inability to leave him.

You had lost everything alongside him, drowning in debt as he made even more irresponsible decisions with your money. You couldn't even stick up for yourself, let alone get out of the situation entirely. You were stuck, practically entrapped with a barbed-wire engagement ring digging into your finger. You laughed at the idea, but realized the metaphor didn't seem so far-fetched.

You weren't sure what it was that you did that finally pushed Nam-gyu over the edge. He abandoned you without a word, one day muttering something about making up his debts and the next day vanishing into thin air. You weren't sure if he'd ever return. Deep down, you knew you didn't want him to. But as it stood, you were crushed. Lost and hopeless without him, simply going through the motions everyday with no solace in pretending he loved you at night while being shoved against the headboard.

In some strange way, you missed him. It wasn't as though he completed you, but you had become so wrapped up in a life not with him, but of him, that you weren't sure how to exist outside of being Nam-gyu's. 

You weren't sure how to survive without the assurance of him being in your life.

'Cause I want, I want, I want, I want

I want, I want, I want, I want, I want.

[kneazle]

More of the tsunami fic! Probably the weakest part (in my opinion) but I believe we're coming to a close with this soon maybe one more part? 😊 again thank you to everyone whose shown this love, I appreciate it more than you can imagine 💕

Tags are under the cut but let me know if you want to be removed! (hopefully I didn't miss any of you that wanted to be added!)

part 1 • part 2

Tommy breathed heavily, cold seeping into his bones while his skin broke out in a sweat. It was an odd feeling, and one that didn't bode well for him. 

He didn't know how long passed since he lifted them onto the platform. His leg throbbed when there wasn't pain shooting up it, but he could do no more than he already had at the moment, having used his plaid button-up to stop himself from bleeding out like he was. There's no telling if it would hold, but it was something until he could get Jee to safety.

Tommy glanced down at where she was curled into his side and his heart clenched.

He looked up to the sky and closed his eyes for a brief moment. 

Please just let her be okay, please

The air was tense in the engine on the way to the pier. Worried glances were thrown his and Chimney's way but Buck avoided meeting those gazes.

They were on their way back from a quick call when it came in about the tsunami, everyone holding their breaths at the thought of another one. Buck felt their eyes on him and had grinned sadly, a weak joke about at least he wasn't there this time but not fully meaning it as another tsunami meant people hurt, lives lost. 

Until Chimney made a strangled noise from his seat. Choking out that Jee was at the pier with Tommy. That Tommy volunteered to watch her when Maddie got called in for a shift and their normal babysitter couldn't, and was planning on taking her there.

Buck's chest felt empty and constricting at the same time as Chimney spoke on the phone with Maddie for a few seconds. His worry burrowing inside, steadily growing at the sound of their voices. He didn't say a word but shared a look with Chim– yet what right did he have when this was their child? Bile rose in his throat that he pushed down, hands clenching. Jee and Tommy were god knows where and in what state, but Buck would do anything to trade places with them at this moment.

"Uncle Tommy Uncle Tommy!"

Tommy's eyes shot open, blinking rapidly at Jee's shouting and shoves. Fuck. He internally cursed at himself for not staying focused, having felt drowsy– no doubt an infection but there was no time to think more on it.

"Look!" 

He sucked in a breath. A boy of about seven or eight was coming their way yelling and crying for help, holding onto a board that was barely keeping him afloat. Tommy saw this little boy with soaked curls, wet black glasses that slid down his nose– and Tommy turned to Jee, "Stay right there Jee don't move!" He told her quickly.

Tommy jumped back into the water and grunted against the pain as he swam out enough, grabbing for the boy as soon as he was in reach. 

He didn't hesitate to cling to Tommy who held the young boy to him. "I got you buddy, I got you, hang on alright?"

Relief slammed into him so hard when they were all on the platform and Jee didn't move an inch, that Tommy let a tear escape mixing with the wetness of the water. Fear clawed its way in his chest.

"Thank you!" The boy coughed out, body giving a big shiver as his lower lip trembled.

"What's your name kid?" Tommy asked softly. "I'm Tommy and this is my best buddy Jee."

He rubbed at his nose, wiping water from his eyes. "D-Danny."

"Alright Danny, can I know who you came here with?" 

"My b-big brother, he- he got pulled away." Danny whimpered, and Tommy could have cried the way Jee scooted closer, her little hand coming to hold Danny's slightly bigger one.

Tommy wrapped two terrified children in his hold, trying to stay awake and focused on them and not the feeling of his body fighting for sleep with the piercing throbbing pain spreading through him.

Fear wasn't new to him– but this was an entirely new kind of fear he realized.

@not-as-straight-as-i-appear @todd-harper @klutzygirl @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @bidisasterevankinard @comfortingevanbuckley @laundryandtaxesworld @tommykinard @sherlockismarvelous9-1-1 @mmso-notlikethat @iphyslitterator @racerchix21 @a-mel0n @station18908 @beckym2001 @bi-bi-buckleys @loulou-land @tommykinard6 @beanarie @fuselsstuff @chococara25 @owlgirl495 @thestrangestthlng @buckleyskinards @nznaturalkiwi @daughterofscotland @livelaughlou @hyperfocusthusly @teabroomsandbooks @thecarrott @tistai

[peachsayshi]

PEACH YOUR BABY DADDY!SUKUNA.....

He distanced himself bc he's not a good guy, he's got a shit job, can barely pay child support but he does what he can. And he always looks after your daughter when you're busy, takes every moment to be with her that he can, even tho he knows that you're the more capable parent. You were always too good for him, and he was your bad boy fling, your mistake.

"I think you love momma more." His daughter told him, bless her unfiltered thoughts. She was probably right. Somehow, after all this time, he still found you completely stunning. He felt guilty for the way he treated you, seeing you persevere and thrive as you've gotten older. If anything, you got more beautiful with each passing day, and he couldn't be happier that his child was being raised by you, even if that meant he had to be out of the picture.

"maybe I do." He chuckled, a tinge of regret to his words. He remembered the ways he hurt you, the look on your face when he made you cry. His selfishness. It was always his selfishness that got in the way. "But I'm not good at it."

// brutally soft // III. 

baby daddy!sukuna x reader 

tags: non curse au; tension; reader and sukuna are co-parents; girl dad sukuna; mentions troubled past with sukuna; alludes to significant size different; mentions drug use and drinking; mentions cheating; sukuna being soft; unrequited love; angsty | | read this for more context & this & this

note: (I am so sorry this took me so long to respond to) but!! you don't get to leave something like this and not expect me to sweetly return the favor by meddling with your feelings the way you did mine. because holy shit, nyx, just hearing sukuna say "I'm not good at it" in a hushed, sad voice made me want to take my own ribs out.

dni if your blog is blank / ageless / or are a minor

"mama! guess what!" your daughter says. "I have a secret!"

you smile to yourself because she always has a secret to share these days. little, innocent things that capture her attention which seem worthy of keeping confidential.

"you know," you say as you help her into her dress. "you're not supposed to tell secrets when you have them..."

"but I tell you everything, mama!"

you lift her up in your arms, the weight of her body getting heavier by the day and reminding you of how fast she's growing.

sukuna is taking her to visit her uncle yuji, and she has been over the moon about it. you place her on the seat of her vanity, and proceed to fix her hair since sukuna will be arriving in twenty minutes, and you want to make sure that she's all set once her dad gets here. you giggle at her response, "okay, okay, what's the secret?"

she looks at you from the mirror's reflection and covers her mouth as she chuckles.

"hey, what's with the sly face?" you prod, holding a chunk of her hair gently between your palm.

"do you know ms. kiko?" she asks, referring to her pre-school teacher.

"mhmm, what about her?"

she giggles again. "well, she told told mrs. chiyo that she thinks daddy is cute!!"

your heart thumps. oddly.

you're not immune to the way that the women look at the father of your child. it's the same alluring, seductive energy that drew you to sukuna in the first place.

but it's been years since you've both been intimate together in any capacity, you're sure that he's probably got someone on call if and when necessary. considering he has more spare time than you do without a child running around, you're pretty sure that sukuna is satisfied with whatever situationship he's in. you've learned to swallow the discomfort of the idea of sukuna with other women. just like how you had to bury the hurt of the very one who tore your relationship apart.

you hum at her observation, your fingers idly braiding her hair.

it's not like you were single anymore either. you've been casually dating a lawyer on and off. it wasn't serious per se, but it wasn't a fleeting relationship where it made you feel like you were entirely free of the attachment.

he's even met sukuna at this point.

granted those dates are few and far between, but you were a single mother who worked full time.

trying to commit to a relationship is hard.

even though, you would love to share all this with...someone.

"anyway, I had to warn daddy to be careful..." your daughter interjects.

"warn him?" you repeat with a smile, her choice of words adorable.

"yeah! so, I told daddy that ms. kiko was in love with him, and asked him if I should tell her to stop..."

"stop?"

"being in love with him!" she responds with a grimace.

that makes you laugh. "and why would you do that, hmm?" you question gently for fun.

"because I know that daddy loves you more, mama!"

your heart thumps again, harder this time. so hard you feel it nearly knock the wind out of you. you clear your throat to ease the apprehension while your daughter kicks her legs with anticipation.

"and how would you know that?" "because," she insists, "daddy told me that he loves you more than anyone else in this world"

her words spill out of her, a glass of water that's been carelessly knocked over. you scrunch your brows as each word registers into your brain, soaking over your to do lists and mental checks.

"what?" you whisper as you stare at this little girl who has already carried on the conversation.

"after me, obviously," she presses - because no one can take her place when it comes to the love that you and sukuna both give her.

"wait-wait..." you say a little breathless, your hands suddenly trembling as you do your best to finish the job you started. "what did your daddy tell you? I didn't quite-"

"he said he loves you more than anyone else in the world..." she repeats, her focus on the rogue hair brush that sits at her small vanity. "so, yeah, that's why I asked daddy if I should tell ms. kiko to stop saying he's cute..."

"your...your daddy is just being silly..." you murmur, trying to underplay the statement. you slip the hairband around her second braid to secure the style in place.

impossible, you think. that's impossible.

so much time has passed between you both.

you buried that part of your past long ago.

left it and refused to look back-

"nu-uh. he said that I don't have to say anything to ms. kiko. that it's okay because he loves momma more, anyway. but daddy also told me once that he's not that good at it," she adds on, her fingers picking at the bristles of her bright purple brush, "whatever that means..."

"when did you and your daddy have this conversation..."

the realization hits her then, and she stares up at you before covering her mouth. "oops," she states, glancing from side to side, "I pinky promised daddy I wouldn't tell you that..."

before you can fish out anything else from her, she hops off her seat, her feet pattering away as she moves across the room towards her pile of plushies.

"who should I take with me?" she says loudly, brushing aside the fact that she said far more than she should. she stands with her hip jutted out and her finger pressed against her lips, her back facing you.

you have to lean against her closet to steady yourself. you do your best to rationalize sukuna's words, trying to decipher the pieces in this game of whispers.

your mind flashes to the horrid break up five and a half years ago. a memory that exists hazily in the back of your mind, to the moment of you standing in sukuna's dingy old apartment holding a lacy white bra between your fingers.

it was not yours.

"what is this?" you gasped, your breath straining as your chest rose and fell with unease. "what the fuck is this..."

it's the only time you've ever seen sukuna panicked.

your memory only captures his words in blurs.

of him drinking too much.

way too much.

of him not waking up alone but swearing that he thought he was was you.

of him not recollecting his own thoughts because he blacked out that night.

of him being just as shocked when he realized the warm body next to him was not his girlfriend.

he begged you to forgive him.

"Baby, I swear. I fucking swear I will clean up my act. I-I'll never fucking drink again. Fuck, I went too far last night. One of the guys was passing around these pills I shouldn't have fucked around with them..."

you couldn't.

you couldn't accept any of it.

you already tolerated so much with him.

the drinking, the recreational drug use, his inability to keep a job, and him nearly ending up in jail for causing fights.

but you saw so much more in that man - and yet, he proved you wrong.

this betrayal spoke volumes.

this betrayal proved to you that you were expendable to him too.

that you just weren't that important.

that shadow of that man doesn't exist anymore. not with this new version of sukuna in your life.

he almost makes you forget the past. this man; your daughter's sunlight. her knight in shining armor. the source of her joy.

he may not have been good at loving you, but that little girl has him in the palm of her hand.

and he loves her with all his might, it feels like his absolution.

"mama?" your daughter calls out, snapping you out of your thoughts.

she's standing right in front of you now, holding a rabbit plushie in one hand and a penguin in the other.

"can I take both?" she asks innocently, her wide eyes glittering brightly as she remains oblivious to your own personal drowning.

"n-no," you stammer out, and affectionately poke the small dimple in her cheek. "just one, my love. we all know your uncle yuji will have more for you when you see him..."

her eyes widen, "that's right!" she exclaims, "he always finds the best and softest ones!"

the bell rings, and you abruptly stand on your feet.

your throat tight, your stomach fluttering.

"daddy's here!" your daughter cheers, and instantly runs out of the room.

you pick up her weekend bag and sling it over your shoulder. you pause and exhale softly, telling yourself to relax before following in her footsteps.

sukuna's deep voice greets you first.

"look at these braids on you..."

you find them both at the foyer, your daughter already scooped up in her father's big, muscular arms. his hand is tugging at one of her braids and she's smiling wildly in his direction.

he's wearing an oversized leather jacket, the fit only bulking up his stature. your daughter is gripping his black tee between her hands, and she yanks it gently before asking: "can we go now?"

sukuna smiles and your spine shivers.

age has done wonders for him too.

"easy, princess, let me say hi to your mom first..."

your fingers grip onto the strap of her weekender bag nervously. you don't know why you suddenly feel very aware of how you look.

of the fact that you're completely barefaced and running on five hours of sleep. that your choice in clothes is a pair of unflattering sweats and hoodie which has some coffee stains on it. you desperately need to wash your hair, and are due for a manicure appointment.

sukuna turns to face you, "hey you, I didn't notice you standing there..."

you clear your throat again, "hi! sorry...I uh-I didn't want to interrupt..."

sukuna adjusts the hold on your daughter, allowing you to approach him as he couldn't take off his boots.

"she all ready for me?" he asks.

"mhmm" you answer quietly, at a complete loss for words because all you can hear is "daddy said he loves you more than anyone else in the world."

you hand off the bag to him, which he takes with ease.

"it's not too late to join us," he offers, but you give him a small smile and shrug of your shoulders.

"trapped with work unfortunately,"

sukuna glances in your daughters direction, "I tried..."

she pouts your way. "you sure, mama?"

"yeah, my love, I am sure."

you slide into sukuna's frame, doing your best to carefully not touch any part of his broad canvas. you stand up on your tip toes and place multiple kisses on your daughter's cheek.

"I love you and I am going to miss you like crazy these next two days," you state sweetly, feeling her wrap her arms around your neck to give you a hug and a kiss in return. "promise me you'll be on your best behavior..."

"I promise!!" she answers.

you find the courage to meet sukuna's soft eyes, the ease on his face doing nothing to help your shattering state.

"I guess you're both set then," you say with a sigh.

he furrows his brow at your tone, and leans forward to make direct eye contact toward you. your lips part slightly at the close proximity of his face with yours, and he tilts his head like a curious cat before asking: "you okay?"

your heat burns so naturally. your heart ready to climb it's way up your throat. you blink back in surprise at his question, and stutter out a "I-I'm fine..."

"you sure?" he presses as he casually stands upright again, like he didn't just pop the bubble of your personal space. "you seem a little off..."

"I am okay," you reassure with a firm nod, before dropping your gaze down at your feet as you shift your balance. "I-I just have a lot on my mind today is all..."

there is a gentle tap just underneath your chin, your attention lifts up to look back at sukuna. his expression is stoic, but you can see the concern in his tense jaw. he taps the space just beneath your bottom lip, your insides turning at the gesture he used to do to you countless times before.

"anything I need to be worried about?" he asks calmly, his choice of words a veil over his obvious unsettlement.

you feel like you really can't breathe then.

your mind spins to when you carelessly kissed him. to when he returned the gesture at your daughter's play.

what seemed so innocent now feels like a serious overstep.

your hand circles around his wrist and you pull him away from you. "I'm fine, Ryomen," you acknowledge politely, trying to keep your words detached but kind.

after you see them both off and shut the front door, you find yourself pressed against the wooden frame. your back weakly glides down the surface until you're sitting on the floor. you bring your knees close to your chest, shaking at the prospect not because you don't want it to be true, but because you are terrified of allowing yourself to even open your heart to sukuna again.

he broke you. he hurt you. and yet, he somehow was the only thing that healed those wounds.

he is the reason why you were able to bring your daughter into this world. he treated her with immense love and supported you in every capacity to build this imperfect little family with you.

ryomen sukuna - your dark angel. the source of your deepest pain, and the reason for your happiest joy.

the wall that you've kept between you and sukuna exists as a safety barrier. you can peek over whenever necessary, but it doesn't mean you ever have to cross that boundary.

and yet, you've caught yourself with the consideration of sitting on the ledge, or maybe even stepping onto the other side.

all it takes for you is to then see the cracks and damages of the past as a reminder of what keeps stopping you.

"get a grip of yourself" you mutter out loud.

you let go of that love. you remind yourself, and you both are better for it.

sukuna is a completely different individual now, and you are in a much happier place than you were before.

the whirlwind romance, the intense passion and addictive excitement fizzled. the sparkle having faded the moment his betrayal was revealed.

maybe your love for each other is just too destructive when intertwined so closely. but existing loosely as small strings, and tethered to the singular entity that lives and breathes because of it...

maybe that should be more than enough for you both.

and you don't know why the thought breaks your heart a little.

[phyrestartr]

Sacrosanct | Adrian Tepes x M!Reader | (PT.1)

W/C: 3.8k C/W: mentions of emotional abuse, blood and gore, canon-typical violence, religion, religious abuse, religious themes, death, mentions of death, depression, alcohol abuse Tags: PLOT!, SFW, eventual NSFW/sexual themes, drama, repressed romantic feelings, slow-ish burn, childhood friends, starts s4 (eventually moving into nocturne), mutual pining, angst and drama, hurt/comfort, reader is kind of an ass lol

Note: soz if there are any spelling/grammar errors---I have been tweaking this so much and I'm so tired of it so I'm just posting the first part to get over it lol o(--( hope it's fun to read!!

1. A Man Amongst the Ghosts

Isolation was an unkind thing. Whispered secrets, foul howls and the like plagued the afflicted's everyday, wrenching away all hope of peace. The dolls, ones made in fits of lonely mania, kept Alucard some sort of company until those humans wandered through, filling in the emptiness that Trevor and Sypha once filled themselves; Taka and Sumi never could replace a Speaker and a Belmont, but the attempt was appreciated. 

Until their humanity showed. Their hatred of vampires, their distrust of anyone beyond themselves, their desperation—all reflected in dark, stone eyes as they loomed above him like the grim reaper, ready to take their pound of flesh from the bloodline that'd evaded Hell for so long. Yet what the two did not know, and what Death had always known, was that Alucard decided to live. 

But what's the point? That disease of a question never was to be answered. His mother would no doubt remind him of how precious and sacred life was, how he simply needed to seek out a spark of inspiration to once again find meaning, but how was one supposed to see meaning in the meaningless? Alucard didn't have an answer. Adrian didn't, either. 

Maybe I just need to wait for a surprise, he lamented. Another world-ending threat, or something. Maybe I could start one myself. I've nothing better to do, anyway. 

The dhampir sighed as he walked up the steps. Then, in the mouth of the great building, he paused; before him stood a figure, cloaked and still, facing the castle stairs. 

“Oh, God,” he breathed, rubbing his eyes, “not another one.” Surely, there was a way to cleanse the castle. Surely, there was a way to remove the spirits of his past, the ones who came and went as they pleased while Alucard watched on and suffocated. Surely, everyday life didn't need to be so—

His trance snapped at a sound. The castle made noises, but it didn’t scuff leather soles against stone, nor did it kick rubble out of its way to make room for hollow, echoing footsteps. Any noise the place made was slow and languid, like it was straining with each and every attempt to haunt its inhabitant; however, those footfalls were brisk and quick and so much like his mother's when she was in a rush. 

But that wasn't Lisa Tepes. It was an intruder—a real one. A man amongst ghosts.

A distant door closed, and Alucard exploded into movement.

Magic fuelled his steps, hurtling him forth in smears of vibrant crimson as he pursued the whisper of a heart beating. Whoever had tried their luck sounded calm, unbothered. Alucard was eager to change that.

The dhampir burst into the lab. A sharp yelp harmonized with the slamming of the door. Another shout was cut short the moment Alucard grabbed the stranger by the throat and pinned them to the wall with a resounding thud.

“Do you have a death wish?” He growled over whatever the stranger tried to say. 

A pause. Then, the threat was answered with a laugh, something sardonic and bitter. 

“A death wish?” They—he—scoffed, clawing at the gloved hand keeping him pinned. “Is that meant to intimidate me, you stupid, blood-sucking beast?” 

Alucard squeezed harder, earning a sharp whimper from the intruder. “It should scare you very much, yes.” 

“Wait,” he squawked. 

“Why should I?” Alucard snapped. “If I don't, you'll take from this place, won't you?” 

The stranger’s pawing turned into thrashing. 

Alucard continued, “If I don't, you’ll return and attempt to kill me. Worse, you could kill me the second I—”

“Adrian.” 

His grip weakened. 

The stranger gasped in lungfuls of air before hastily pulling back his hood. His face—your face—illuminated in the gentle morning light. 

Your gazes held for a long, long moment, one that might have gone on forever, one that might have only been a delusional second, but it was…familiar. Secretive and special, like when you lifted sweets from town and shared them underneath a table in the library.

“Don’t tell Miss Lisa,” you whispered, eyes glimmering with mirth despite your serious disposition. 

Adrian huffed and took a sweet roll from the basket. “I wouldn’t dream of it. She’ll be completely cross if she finds out.”

You nodded, and the pact was formed. “We must make sure we wash our hands afterwards,” you added as you ripped a roll in half and nibbled on the frayed edge. “I, too, will be cross if we get sugar on the books.” 

“Ugh, you’re so annoying.”

You turned your nose away like a pompous brat, and Adrian laughed.

His grip loosened more, and your pulse started to slow against his gloved fingertips. 

“You,” Alucard said slowly, sluggishly. “Why?”

“I’ve come to do the work your worthless self has refused to do, you brute,” you sneered.

Alucard released you and watched you collapse. You rubbed your throat, hand shaking.

“I forgot how much of an asshole you were, alchemist.”

You glared up at him through tear-coated lashes. 

“I've never forgotten how much of a spoiled brat you were, Adrian.” 

“Alucard,” the dhampir corrected. 

“What?”

The blonde turned away and wandered to where he'd seen you puttering. “They call me ‘Alucard,’ now.”

You scoffed. “The opposite of Dracula, yes, of course, how very dramatic of you.” He heard you drag yourself back up to your feet. “It's a stupid name.”

“So is ‘(Name)’.” 

“Oh, fuck off. If you're going to insult me, at least make it worthwhile.” 

You stepped up beside him, straightening out your clothes and fixing your disheveled hair. Alucard glimpsed flashes of light-coloured markings against your skin before they vanished beneath your clothes. He had no mind to wonder what they meant, but he did find them pretty.

“What are you doing here?” He sighed, suddenly so, so defeated. “This isn't your home.”

You sucked your teeth. “It was, once.”

“Not anymore.”

“Your mother said I'd always be welcome.” You picked books off the floor and set them on the cracked desk. “‘Always’ hasn't ended just because she's passed.” 

Alucard's face twisted. “Don't speak of her. You have no right.”

“She was my mentor,” you said offhandedly. You threw a few more books onto the table. “I mourn her, too.”

“Yet you weren’t there when—”

“Neither were you.” 

The cold left Alucard's veins, exposing his raw nerves to the needling truths he had shunned in favour of shutting down, disappearing into the numbness of winter. What right did you have to remind him? What right did you have to reappear and give him grief? 

Thorns punctured the backs of his eyes. Alucard held his head and staggered back. He needed wine, and badly. 

“Just—don't touch anything,” he grumbled as he turned away, ignoring whatever it was you hissed back at him. The man didn't have the energy to start a losing war with you.

—

Time passed. Alucard ignored you. He even forgot you resided under the same roof as him unless he stumbled upon you in the kitchen or engine room. You kept to yourself for the most part, and he kept to himself. It wasn't horrible. 

You were horrible, however. You were nothing short of an entitled menace to society and, more personally, to Alucard himself. Still, somehow, Lisa had liked you enough to give you a room, and Dracula had found you promising enough to let you stay in that room, much to their only child's chagrin.

“‘He has nowhere else to go,’” Alucard muttered aloud, echoing the words his mother spoke back then. “‘He's alone.’” He stared up at the cellar's ceiling before taking a long drink of wine. “‘I'm sure he'll be your friend.’”

He thought of Sumi and Taka. He thought of Trevor and Sypha. He thought of empty shadows. And when he couldn't stand the thoughts any longer, he drank, and decided the castle was too small for all those ghosts and two living men, that it wasn’t allowed to be anything but cold and painful and lonely. Bonds, people, just made life agony. 

Alucard rubbed his eyes. His shoulders trembled from a heavy inhale. 

He needs to leave.

Resolve sobered him. Alucard stormed out of the cellar like he was about to face his father again, like his life was on the line along with humanity’s fate. In a way, it was; if he didn't deal with the nightmarish imp sullying his home, he'd be no use to humanity, he'd be in no position to be sober enough to ever do anything besides mourn and cry, and that couldn't last forever. 

The lab doors came into view with the quiet shuffling of odds and ends before he threw the doors open, and stepped inside with purpose. 

“You,” Alucard commanded. “You're to get out of my castle immediately lest I—”

He slowed to a halt and took the space in; the lab was warmly lit, and it no longer reeked of blood, sweat and magic, but instead of herbs and wood; a majority of the room was cleaned, or at least straightened out, and many of the books and equipment had been returned to their rightful places; what was left of the floors, walls and furniture were free of most filth, too. It almost seemed to masquerade as a home again.

You were even on the second floor, staring out the largest window with a cup of tea in your hand—a calming sight Alucard had taken in plenty of times in the past.

“You're cleaning,” Alucard said as he approached you. 

“Astute observation, vampire.” You sipped your tea as you stared out at the vast sea of green cedar. “I'm surprised you live.” 

“Tch. Not even Dracula could kill me,” Alucard huffed. “Wine doesn't stand a chance.” 

“I'm not so sure. That horrible stench coming off of you suggests you're already a walking corpse.” 

“So you came back to play the part of maid?” Alucard asked instead of biting back. 

Your nose twitched with the threat of a snarl. “Someone has to clean up this fucking mess and it's surely not going to be you.” 

“Well, I—”

“No, shut up.” You collapsed into a nearby armchair with a sigh. “You don't get to defend yourself.”

Alucard scoffed and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “I was going to sort things out.” 

“Before or after you drank yourself to near-death?” 

“You're still as miserable as I remember.”

“Oh, on the contrary, I think I'm much more miserable now.” Your gaze dropped. “This house is a mess.” 

Alucard scoffed, hackles rising. “Of course, it's the house you worry about.” 

You frowned. “Someone has to.” 

“Are you ever going to learn how to be pleasant?”

“I wasn't made to be pleasant; I was made to be exceptional.”

The dhampir laughed, earning a hot glare. “You mean by those mad heretics that attempted to open the gates of Hell over and over? Is that meant to be ‘exceptional’?” 

The muscles of your jaw tensed, and Alucard thought he heard the grind of teeth. Your family, whoever they were, were a weak spot for you. He knew that well.

“Fuck you,” you uttered like a pagan curse. “You've no idea what I've endured, what my makers were like.”

“My father is Dracula,” Alucard said, “he tried to kill me, killed thousands of humans, tried to end the world—”

“Yet you still live, and the world is still in-fucking-tact, isn't it? Maybe not your world, but the one that matters most.” You glowered out the window as you stood. “As far as I see it, you're rather lucky.” 

“Lucky?” He repeated, an edge of hysteria lifting his voice. “Really, you'd call this lucky?”

“It could have been a lot fucking worse.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“You wish.” 

You turned sharply and abandoned him. Alucard listened to your brisk footfalls disappear behind a collage of distant bookcases, some broken, some intact. The rifling and shuffling of wood and paper took over not too long after he lost sight of you. You'd so easily gone back to work. 

He's always been that way, Alucard remembered. Would rather putter about instead of dealing with people. His mother had never been anti-social. His father was, however. Maybe your shared distaste and skepticism about humans was what bonded you. Maybe humans made you so jaded, too. Maybe, in another world, they'd have made Alucard the same. 

He wandered after you, following phantom footsteps until the dull clapping of book covers became clear. You were mumbling under your breath, exasperated and annoyed as always with the one-sided argument you engaged in. It was another common sight; Alucard recalled finding you bickering with the air far too often in your shared younger days. Lisa never had an explanation for her son, but she had words of comfort to explain your quirk. 

I thought you didn’t remember your parents, Alucard wanted to say, but that look on your face, the one that stirred something in his chest and ate everything in his veins, snuffed out whatever flame of confidence he thought to face you with. 

–

Alucard let you be for a long while. He didn't know how long, per se, but at least…a while. Some time. Maybe a week or two. A month? Hard to tell.

When did I kill those two? He wondered dryly as he wandered back from yet another trip to the river. Feels like centuries ago…maybe longer. Is this what Father felt in that long, miserable life of his, until he met Mother? He didn't want to dwell on it long.

Instead, he dwelled on the man standing before the skewered warnings at the castle's front door. 

He could see your foot tapping and shifting to and fro—toe, heel, toe, heel—the same way you had as a younger teen. Alucard hated it, especially when your hard leather soles clacked against the hardwood like a woodpecker knocking on a tree. 

Alucard snorted. Woodpecker. That summed you up nicely.

“What are you smiling about, vampire?” You snapped. Alucard thought venom might shoot from your eyes or flame might spew from your mouth.

“Why are you staring at…those?” He asked instead. 

Your expression weakened into something a bit more innoxious. “I'm wondering why you needed them,” you said, turning to the gruesome display. “And if I should summon them again to kill them myself for whatever they've done.” 

Alucard couldn't look away from you. “‘For what they’ve done,’” he echoed, voice weak. “What makes you think they’ve done anything at all?”

“Adrian Tepes would not skewer someone if they weren't as damnable as the fucking night beasts staked in their company,” you decided, pointed words acrid with something intense.

A weak warmth spread across Alucard’s skin. The feeling tried to go deeper, back to somewhere long forgotten, but he didn’t allow it. How could he, after so many had taken that sacred place for granted?

“Oh.” The dhampir cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “I see.”

Your eyes flicked to him and pinned him in place. Yet, a moment later, your brows lost their creased tension while your stare abandoned its edge in favour of something kinder—or perhaps less lethal—as you gave him a quick once-over before your stare ultimately landed on the bare skin peeking out from beneath his jacket. 

Your eyebrows raised a little, smoothing out your chronic resting bitch face, and your eyes lidded so slightly. Alucard fought the urge to pull his jacket closed while at the same time resisting the impulse to throw his jacket off. You still did strange things to him.

“Where is your shirt?” You asked. 

Alucard cleared his throat. “I, ah. It's…complicated.” 

One of your brows quirked as you turned to face him, arms crossed. “I highly doubt that.”

Alucard could not find it in himself to admit his melancholy stopped him from doing anything—merely speaking such a thing into the world would be too much to bear.

“Fine,” you scoffed. “Then what's that scar?” 

“My father,” he said. “He—well. We had a disagreement, you could say.” 

You winced. “Dracula must have been far gone to hurt you.”

Alucard flickered a smile. “He was.”

Your lips parted, then sealed again, but you didn't look away. Alucard saw sparks of the you he used to find comfort in with the way you beheld him; you wore that thoughtful, gentle look whenever Adrian found himself in trouble or in pain. It warmed him to know you might not have changed much in that way.

Before your old friend could admire you much more, you turned and straightened out your cuffs with a neat, crisp flourish. “Well, that’s a shame. I quite liked your father.”

“I know.” 

Alucard couldn't find anything more to say. Yet you still stayed put as though you held out hope for him to say something more. But he couldn’t. He simply couldn’t, and you were not known for having the patience of a saint.

Helpless, Alucard watched you disappear into the gaping mouth of the castle doorway. It was strange, he thought, how your silhouette seemed to meld with the shadows as soon as you stepped out of the sun. Then again, he was slightly out of his mind. 

Instead of following after you, he braved a glance at the rotting faces of Taka and Sumi. “He’s been here much longer than you two,” he murmured, eyes casting back to the ground. “And he hasn’t tried to trick me, kill me, or fuck me. Maybe this is how bonds are meant to forge.” A long, heavy sigh left him. “I don’t know.” 

Eventually, he found himself wandering the halls, his sad, half-filled pail sloshing beside him and occasionally spilling onto the hardwood. You'd yell at him for it, probably spew something about ruining the already battle-ruined floors, but the punishment didn’t seem too harrowing; at least he'd have company.

Then, he heard a noise, and followed it like a fool following a premonition. However, his quest actually had a prize at the end: you, messing about with pipes in the boiler room set beside the engine room. Your hands were speckled and smeared with grease and other shiny residue, yet your clothes were as clean as they could be with your shirt tucked properly and sleeves rolled up to reveal a stretch of skin marked with faint, blue sigils.

He stepped forward when you tried to twist a piece of pipe free with just your fingertips. Gently, he brushed your hand aside before gripping the measure of pipe and yanking it free with a single, easy motion. 

“You could have asked,” Alucard said, holding the pipe out for you. “Instead of ominously vanishing into the castle, I mean.”

Your nose scrunched as you took the piece with a dirtied rag and set it aside. “You seemed too busy wandering around, looking like a dejected donkey holding a bucket, and, last I checked, mules don't make for great conversation.”

Alucard set the bucket to the side. “Well, I'd rather champion the removal of pipes so you may keep your delicate, frail hands clean. Seems better than being a sad donkey, at the very least.” 

“Hm. You already need a dozen baths, I suppose, so this can't be too uncouth for you,” you said, leaning away from him and looking over some schematics. 

“Oh, well perhaps I should go bathe rather than help you, then.” 

“Ah-ah,” you scolded. “Your fate is sealed. Remove the next two pieces, vampire.” 

Alucard rolled his eyes but did as he was told, much to his chagrin; he'd rather have running, hot water again than constantly wandering to the river day by day, of course, but he'd have to survive a short stint of servitude under your cruel, critical rule for that to happen. It wouldn't have been worth it if he hadn’t been hoping for petty banter and a chance to ask questions. 

“Those markings,” he said, “I've been wondering about them.” 

“Hm.” 

“Care to explain?”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Will you?”

You turned away, and Alucard stifled a sigh. Wonderful first attempt at an actual conversation. Almost as tactful as Belmont. He grimaced. God, please make me into anything but Belmont.

“Alchemical sigils,” you said, striking through Alucard’s thoughts. 

The dhampir's mind whirled for a snap. “Really,” he said. “I suppose I should have recognized them.” 

You hummed in maybe annoyance or agreement before turning back to the machine. “They're lesser-known. Most present-day alchemists are forgemasters, besides. They've little need for incantations when they've their chosen tools.”

Alucard leaned down to peer over your shoulder at whatever you were scrutinizing in the boiler. “Hm. Then your markings are a tool of sorts?” He wondered.

You frowned. “A curse may be more accurate.” 

Alucard glanced at you again, then to the back of your neck when another symbol—a familiar thing, one that looked like a star of sorts—caught his attention, and sparked a machination of curiosity and alarms in his mind. “A curse.”

Your hand clapped over the mark, and you turned to him, sharp and quick like you were expecting to parry.

Alucard raised a hand to surrender. “I didn't mean to—”

“Quiet,” you snapped. The word twisted strangely, like a distortion rippling in water before calming again. “Do not expect more from me than that which I give you. Do you understand?” Alucard nodded, and you seemed to calm. “Good. Now, just shut up and do as I say, yes? No more questions.” 

No more questions. Your demand only piqued his curiosity.

After helping you with what would become a lengthy, gruelling project, Alucard found his way to the rickety Belmont vault and wandered through aisles upon aisles of books. A worried sickness curled in his stomach and chest; last time he'd been down there, he'd brought two others with him.

He shook his head. Focus. You need a book about alchemy. Old alchemy, no less. 

There were plenty of books to choose from, but Alucard was quick to realize alchemy was not the core of your mystery, but the root; it was something related to it, something that used alchemical symbols and other sigils born from similar knowledge. 

And finding a hexagram etched into the crumbling spine of an old, leather book gave him a solid start. 

“Hm. Ars Goetia,” Alucard said aloud, tongue thoughtful with every syllable.

As though something answered him, the air hummed. It buzzed with life, reverberating with something kinetic and physical, like the bone-rattling depth of a choir. Books shuddered, earth shifted, debris fluttered from the roof—then, it all receded, drifting away like a midnight yawn and leaving nothing but a dissonant, distant ring in its wake. 

“Well,” Alucard exhaled, “that was interesting.” He sat himself in a mostly-intact chair, and opened the book. “I wonder if that was meant to ward me away. I suppose time will tell.”

---

Thank you for reading! Feel free to comment your thoughts or if you'd like to be tagged for the next part :'D

[nthspecialll]

Blind Man Cassidy and his fortunes

If you play red dead two, which I assume you do if you come across this post, you will without a doubt have come across Blind Man Cassidy, the blind fortune teller standing on the side of the road in the middle of shit-fuck nowhere (srs how does he get all the way out to Tumbleweed?) all acorss the map, willing to tell you a fortune for a mere dollar.

At first glance these fortunes seem pretty useless, even the protagonists brushes them off without thinking more about them, however when you know the full story they actually make quite a good amount of sense, so here are my enterpretions of them

Arthur's fortunes

"Make your final moments your best moments, sir. Know glory and forget about shame."

Living life how you wish to live. Arthur stands with a choice, on one hand he wants to rip loose from Dutch and help the Marstons but on the other hand he is scared of what Dutch thinks because that is still his father. I feel this is "know the glory of helping and forget the same your father will cast on you."

"You must decide between your past and others' future, friend. Decide, for soon it will be too late."

Arthur's past is that of crime and of loyalty, one he would likely have continued if it wasn't for the events of rdr2, however following that life of crime would have gone in the way of something else, helping John. He has to decide if he wants to continue to live the life he has always lived by Dutch's side but leaving John to his own or if he wishes to stand by John and leave Dutch.

"That which is killing you will help you, finally, to see. And see clearly, friend. See and hear."

Tuberculousis. The TB is quite literally killing him but it is also helping him realise everything that is wrong around him.

"Your father is seduced by the one with the forked tongue... it's no use hoping."

The one with the forked tongue means the snake, which in this fortune is a reference to Micah who is the liar and manipulator seducting Dutch... And it seems Cassidy knew that Dutch was lost even before Arthur did.

"Your whole life, sir, you have followed the wrong star."

Dutch has quite literally been Arthur's guiding star his entire life, he has followed his footsteps, done everything he asked, stood by his side, so on and so forth, but in the end it wasn't Dutch that Arthur should be following, he gave him nothing but hurt.

"Your whole life is one of regret... but it can end better than it began."

Arthur has regretted a lot in life, we can read that in his journal. Wishing he stood by Mary, wishing he was a better rather to Isaac, wishing he saw Dutch for who he was earlier, but as Charles said, he is lucky to know he is dying because now he can change what kind of man he is.

"You are not who you think you are, sir... which is lucky."

Arthur often says he is a bad man, that he is no good and a mere killer, but he isn't. A terrible man would never do the things he did, would never help like he did, which is good because a lot of the gang relied on Arthur to be good.

"Bad news awaits you, sir. Sadly, sooner than you think. But beyond the news, paradise awaits. Paradise..."

Bad news would in this fortune be TB, it is coming for him and there is nothing he can do, but beyond those news of terror comes something else, truth, clarity, the knowledge of what he must do and what really happened. Another interpreation of "paradise" could be death, while it would seem like bad news Arthur does mention that he has longed for death for a long time which isn't surprising considering he has been working his ass of his entire life and might just need a break, even an eternal one.

"Run from the seeker, sir. Run and keep running, or help others to run."

Dutch always sees himself as a seeker, he even says so, a seeker of truth, the seeker Arthur must run from, so either he must run (likely to Mary) or he must stay and help others, help the gang when the time comes.

"You didn’t run when last we spoke, sir. You didn’t run far enough."

- He didn't leave, he didn't go with Mary so now the choice is made for him, he must help the others.

"Keep moving, sir. Keep moving... but don’t move too fast."

I think this is a fortune everyone needs to hear, outlaw or not, 1899 or not. We all we need move forwards, we all need to keep moving, but often times while we keep moving with a certian goal in mind we forget to live. We keep running and running and at some point we forget to live in the moment, we disappear from the present, shut down until we reach a future we will disappear from when we reach. For Arthur it is even more important that he doesn't disappear from the present because he doesn't have a future.

"You keep hidden all that matters, sir. Maybe even from yourself..."

Arthur is a fairly private person, he doesn't share that much, however what matter is him, is his emotions, yet he doesn't tell them to anyone, he doesn't show himself or his feelings to anyone, particuarlly in the end he is closed off, also to himself.

"I sense great confusion in you, sir. Great confusion. Not... because you... do not know, but because you are afraid of what you know."

The great confusion comes from the fact that he knows Dutch is gone far before he is actually ready to accept it. Him and Hosea discuss it as early as chapter one, he knows Dutch is gone, but he doesn't quite accept it.

"I see the morrows and see them clearly, sir. Even when all reason is lost, and all truth has become lie, you will stand firm. For loyalty is both your saving and your curse."

Throughout the game everything Arthur believes in will be turned upside down, Marston will be good, Dutch will be bad, Hosea is gone and Micah is still there, but he doesn't waver. Arthur will stand tall, loyality has always been his thing and it will help him save others and help him keep his head clear in the end, but it will physically kill him.

"Be warned, sir, be warned. Surrounded by fields of burning fire and flesh, the devil will make his sacrifice."

I hear many say this is about Eagle Flies, however I would like to think that this is more about Dutch leaving Arthur in the middle of the chaos they have created. Everything is strange, things are off, no one trusts one another and then Dutch leaves Arthur, both emotionally and physically.

"Be warned, sir, do not slumber too deeply... for the man with no nose is coming for you."

The man with no nose is death and if Arthur relaxes too much he will die, his body will give out on him.

"Just as evil begat evil your whole life long, so good may beget good."

Arthur has done a lot of evil throughout his life and that evil came back to him, evil causes evil. However in the end when he did good, he will also get good back, it will set off a chain of good.

Marston's fortunes

"You have learned the most important lesson of all. That only one thing matters and all else is lies."

Family is the most important thing. John has gone through hell and back but the one thing it taught him was that his family was worth it.

"Embrace those who love you, not the memory of those who pretended to."

Once again this is family related, John should stop chasing and obsessing over Dutch who did nothing for him, but rather focus on those who do love him, his family.

"You remember the past at the expense of the future."

While I do think that even if he hadn't gone for Micah that he would have been found at some point, John going after Micah, remembering the future, did speed up the process that ended up killing his family.

"You’re a fool, fiend. But not so much a fool as you think, nor such a fiend. The past is done, the future is yet to come."

The past is done, 1899 is done, the future has yet to come, 1911.

"They will come for you, friend. When they do, you will not have a choice. But you have lived better than most."

When the Pinkertons come to take John's life he will have no choice, he will be trapped and he will die, but he can comfort himself on the fact that he had a loving family, a good home and people who liked him.

"Two strangers seek thee. One from this world... perhaps one from another... One brings hatred... I'm not so sure what the other brings"

One from this world, one who is human, Edgar Ross, and one who is not, The Strange Man. They know what Edgar wants, but they don't quite know what The Strange Man wants.

[letmeoutofthebasementt]

SKZ getting cheated on (Hyung Line + Han)

(How long it’ll take them to find out on their own, how they’d react, if they’d break up or not)

Chan

Honestly, it'd probably take him a while to realize. Because, for one, he'd probably feel very stable in his relationship and his place in his partner's life. He has that "They'd never because they NEED me" kinda mentality. The longer they've been together the less likely he is to find out organically unless he full-on catches them in the act. He also feels like his relationships are very solid at their core. Another big issue is to be entirely sure his partner is cheating, he needs to break free of delusions. It would also just be far too much for him if he did suspect it because he'd be afraid he'd lose his partner for even daring to think something like that. I think he'd also...Take things for granted? Like, "I have you there's no way you'd ever leave or want anything more/else" type of thing. Everything's familiar. And he doesn't take into account that anything could possibly happen.

If he finds out he got cheated on, he'd immediately tell his friends and seek comfort in them. I'm also getting he's the type who'd cheat on his partner to get his lick back or something. Cheating is something Chan can't get past, so he'd definitely leave them. He'd feel hopeless, and his entire life would probably momentarily crash and burn. I think he'd also be really frustrated and it'd ruin his trust in everyone in his life. He'd also push down and suppress a lot of things. Because of that, the feelings of hurt and anger and resentment can easily fester because he didn't allow himself to acknowledge them or hash them out.

Lee Know

Idk why I immediately thought of ice spice

Specifically that like "You think you the shit, bitch? You not even the fart." I don't even like her or that song

BUT ANYWAYS

He'd know quickly. You can't HIDE that from this man. Trust he'll find out ASAP. Because, one, his intuition is on a whole other level. Two, he'd immediately know if something's off. Whether that be your location being off or somewhere it's not supposed to, etc. Even if you think you're slick he'll FIND a tell one way or another. I'm also a firm believer he goes through phones. I'm talking every nook and cranny of that phone including your EMAILS. He's finding that shit one way or another and you're lucky if there's a 24 hour window of time where he doesn't know about it. He'll find a way to figure it out.

In terms of how he'd react...He'd definitely find out on his own, so there'd be this 'Aha!' moment. Because he knew he wasn't going crazy. He's going to figure out every nitty gritty detail of the cheating with PRINTED OUT laminated receipts with copies just incase. He's definitely gonna confront his partner. And trust he's going to have a boost of confidence figuring it out. Definitely not the type who blames himself. He's also probably telling everyone and their mother. And YOUR mother. He sees it as a battle won and everyone needs to hear about the victory.

He has a 50/50 chance of leaving, though. On ONE hand, while trust is very important to him he'd also feel a sense of...I don't want to say ownership but that's the only word I can think of over his partners. So, he simply wouldn't want to let them go. I feel like the love would also linger a lot because he feels very deeply. So, he may just stay with his partner and fall into some toxic habits of keeping them on lockdown, being all hovery...The type who's calling his partner every 5 minutes, showing up to their job to make sure they're there, getting their Apple login so they can receive every single message and notif they do...He's keeping them on LOCK. But on the other hand, he could very well just...Fall out of love in an instant. It's very contradictory. Love and hate are two sides of the same coin and he has a very large capacity for hate, especially when betrayed. Probably just moved onto the next. So yeah, he's either dumping you rather cruelly then moving on like you never existed, or keeping you uner lock and key.

Changbin

He'd probably FIND OUT fairly quickly, because he'd kind of have this gut feeling. But he'd suppress those feelings and convince himself he was insane until he finally catches his partner red handed and realizes he's right on the money. Because he's very passionate about his relatinship and doesn't want to be imposing on his partner or doubting them for no reason. That's not his intention nor something he's comfortable with doing. He also wants to trust in his partner. He'll probably lose faith in himself and just be very on edge until he realizes he's right.

His entire life would fall apart when he finds out. He falls into destructive tendencies. Probably self-sabotages a lot. He feels like a failure, and he's so afraid of being made fun of or looked down on because he got cheated on. He'd probably fall into a depression and just be very negative. He'd feel like he wasn't enough, and couldn't be good enough. And feel he just couldn't be all his partner needed so they found it in someone else. But he'd also regain some of his trust in himself. Because he realized his intuition was right and he wasn't just losing his mind. Would definitely need a lot of kindness and comfort from friends and family, and a lot of self-expolration. May fall into delusions to help himself cope.

He'd also definitely break up with his partner if they cheated. Because they're obviously not his person, and he'll find his person.

Hyunjin

I haven't even pulled yet and I already know this'll affect my mental wellbeing

But also...MY MAN MY MAN MY MANNNNN I haven't read on him in a while (I'm saying this because he's my bias not because i'm delusional enough to think he'd want me don't @ me)

FIRST OF ALL, he'd believe he's being cheated on long before he actually is. Like, I wouldn't be surprised if he's already been in a situation where he dreamed of being cheated on and then a few weeks later got cheated on and was convinced he was a prophet or something. Not literally but you catch my drift. But I also feel like the amount of time it'd take to figure it out is considerably lengthened by the fact that he looks at everything through rose-tinted glasses of hopeless romance. He has a love for life and is more focused on that than anything else. Plus, he's near perpetually convinced he's about to be cheated on or is being cheated on so once he genuinely DOES see the red flags it's less...Impactful? To him? Because he sees them in everything. He's sensitive, though, so i feel like he'd sense it if something was off. Like, if his partner was cheating because of lost feelings he'd realize the lost feelings. And then, his imagination would take the wheel and suddenly it's a joyride off a cliff and into a mental spiral. I feel like deep down he'd also know like "Oh shit, this is different. They may actually be cheating for real." I feel like he has the emotional maturity to know that other times he was overreacting and being delusional. But this is more than that. I feel like the moment he open his eyes, he'll immediately know.

And he's getting the hell up out of there.

He'd be CRUSHED if he found out he got cheated on. He'd probably throw his money away doing stupid shit with it, fall into certain bad habits. He'd feel hopeless, and feel like everything he worked so hard for during the relationship was a waste. Like he's failed. But he'd also 100% publicly expose his partner. I also think he'd drown his sorrows in another relationship or fling or whatever. I'm talking within the hour of finding out he's under someone else for the sole purpose of distraction. He'd also 100% use this to fuel his general anger/crashoutery for the next few months. Like he'll be another level of volatile and emotionally unstable. He'd probably reflect a lot on the relationship. He'd withdraw from a lot of things and just want to be by himself and recover from the pain. Definitely would avoid anything that could potentially stress him out.

He'd also break up with his partner. Surprisingly. I was honestly expecting him to stay. But I feel like his energy has changed? He has more trust in himself and his value and he's not just content sticking around through mistreatment anymore. Good for him.

Han

Shawty bae

I don’t think he’d notice? He’d just very much be blinded by everything. He idealizes his relationships, and he’d be so happy he just genuinely wouldn’t notice if something was amiss. He’s also just generally an overthinker and has a very scattered mind, so I think if he did pick up on something he wouldn’t notice AT ALL he’s not being delusional.

I think he’d still love them if they cheated. But I also think he’d be the type to…Cheat back? If his partner were to ever cheat on him. He’d definitely also get closer with friends and family for emotional support and find happiness there. Mask the sadness with more happiness and drown himself in pleasure. I think once he finds out everything will suddenly connect. All the puzzle pieces will fall into place and everything will suddenly make sense.

I think he would want to but I don’t think he would. It’d be a big inner conflict and he’d really have to force himself to. He’d need to think on it and his friends and family would have to push for it. Because he’s like “Well I’ve put so much effort into this why throw it away?” And just values the stability relationships and having his ‘other half’ brings to him.

[flowers-of-buffoonery]

chuuya:

chuuya, a couple minutes later:

[lesenbyan]

Scientists: want so badly for adult children who are friends with and/or still dependant on parents for money or a roof to be Bad that they are intentionally looking for detriment in the study results

Study results: so overwhelmingly positive they can't actually find the data needed to twist the narrative

Scientists: >:|

[malachitezmeyka]

I know it's useless to get mad at the dog, she's just a hyperactive little thing who doesn't know how to behave yet. She's left home alone for at least 6 hours every day and she's bored, I can't blame her for tearing apart her training pads or shitting all over the place. Even if I did, she must have done it hours ago, dogs don't get that actions that happened so long ago have consequences and all me yelling at her will result in is her being scared of me. I know all that, I do

So WHY am I still so angry at her?? Why does it feel satisfying to lash out and see her scurry away??? She doesn't deserve to be treated like that, she doesn't know any better. And I don't know how to teach her to know better, I don't have the patience for it. She deserves better than me

[time-travel-trio]

(Dawn just looks around rapidly, struggling to remain calm. She's worried about her sister. Pissed at Juliana. Struggling to comprehend everything she can hear around her, the city noise and chaos, struggling to choose what to focus on first.)

"Shit, shit, shit-"

(She eventually whirls to look at Juliana, furious. Big Sister Mode: Activated)

"THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?! SHE WAS JUST TRYING TO HELP! SHE SAW THE BATTLE AGAINST RENDING REEF WASN'T GOING AS PLANNED, AND DECIDED TO TRY A DIFFERENT TACTIC! ISN'T THAT A BIG PART OF BATTLES?! ADAPTING ON THE FLY?!"

"AND SHE WOULD HAVE BEEN FINE WITHOUT YOUR INTERFERENCE! LIKE YOU JUST SAW, HER GALLADE WOULD HAVE TELEPORTED HER AWAY AT THE EXACT MOMENT SHE WAS IN DANGER!"

"BUT NOOOO, YOU JUST HAD TO PLAY THE HERO AND GET YOURSELF HURT! DO YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, WHILE YOU WERE IN THE HOSPITAL, THE HOSPITAL I FUCKING CARRIED YOU INTO?! TWILIGHT HAD A FUCKING PANIC ATTACK! BECAUSE SHE THOUGHT IT WAS ALL HER FAULT! AND WHAT DID YOU DO, AS SOON AS YOU SAW HER?!"

"MADE IT WORSE BY MAKING HER BATTLE WITH HER SHITTY HEADSPACE, AND THEN FUCKING BELITTLED HER AFTER SHE STARTED TO CRACK! SHE'S FOURTEEN, YOU DUMB FUCK! ANYONE WOULD CRACK UNDER THAT MUCH PRESSURE, BUT ESPECIALLY A KID!!!"

(Dawn pants for breath, staring at Juliana as a ball of pure sisterly rage.)

"Is this the new standard for champions? Putting down someone who just wanted to help in the best way she knew how, and who started to crack under the pressure?"

@alolaveralabs

(NEW THREAD BETWEEN ME, @time-travel-trio and @askthedistortedfandomcrew)

(Just as Penny was about to react, a door opened. Specifically the hospital door. Out comes Juliana, aided in movement by her Oinkologne, and now wearing a prosthetic hand.)

.....

(The Crater trio go to hug Juliana, but she gives them a look to say not now.)

Hey.

@askthedistortedfandomcrew

[puppmeo]

Have you ever been assumed to be romantically attracted to someone and even just the thought of that makes you want to throw up . Anybody