#it's so overwhelming. the amount of realities you'll never live..

[natjennie]

do NOT message me. I'm busy mourning all of the languages I'll never learn and countries I'll never visit and books I'll never read and foods I'll never eat and art I'll never see and history I'll never know and skills I'll never have and events I'll never be able to go to and people I'll never meet and hobbies I'll never try. btw.

[lains-reality]

hello! i rlly love your blog and the way you explain things

how do i just apply? whenever i do i stress that i’m doing it wrong because i feel overwhelmed by the amount of info and things i have to make sure i’m doing right then i spiral and over consume again. i don’t want to rely on tumblr anymore.

what’s the simplest way to apply all of this and just “manifest” (i don’t rlly like this word bc it implies there’s a process or that i’m trying to get) my dream life? thank you

hi! ty!

it takes some courage! i also read a lot as a way to feel secure, but eventually i just got tired and just decided 'i have no more fears from this day on! done with this!' and i made it a practise to stop avoiding myself whenever something comes up

its all very natural, i can't say how you'll just finally decide that your over this lol

"whenever i do i stress that i’m doing it wrong because i feel overwhelmed by the amount of info"

well, learn how to stop yourself in the moment. you're putting too much pressure on your character! it only know what it knows now, it will not accept anything outside of what it already knows! thats why you leave it alone. read all you want to read, but stop when you feel like you have to. like you must. let yourself relax.

"i don’t want to rely on tumblr anymore."

good! keep going!

"what’s the simplest way to apply all of this"

just do it. try it and see. something that is a recurent theme in all the posts and book i read, is to try it. experiment. just for this one moment, let all the worries go. promise to never make problems for yourself again. you've given up troubles now, no more. just test it and see. surrender. let the mind cry and scream, for this moment, you won't allow it to deter you from freedom.

i'll give a list of stuff that helped me

theres only now -> stop bringing the past to now, learn to sit in the present moment

stop avoiding emotions, sit with the fear, discomfort etc

you already are Self! nothing can undo that!

be patient

non attachment (or detachment)

experiment - take something you already know and test it

question everything

find out what are the stories you want, what the desire will supposedly give you

it is not necessary to get rid of thoughts or images just stop deriving identity from them

"am i arguing for my limitations?"

soon more lovely thoughts and images will appear in your awareness and you can choose what you want

can you outgrow it? not you. observe it? not you. in the absense of it, you don't dissapear? not you.

be okay with not having it. get to a place where no one and no thing can disturb you (and your happiness and peace)

just see how absurd all this shit is. like i was born? what was it like before i was born? why is it normal to hear your voice in your head? no one knows what tomorrow is but we all worry abt it, where tf does the voice in your head come from? how can we actually identify feelings, what if the feeling pride isn't actually pride and you've been lied to? do you know how crazy this is for an infant?! we say we are an [x] person and that changes and so we say we are an [y] person, so who are we?? if we can change like that? being a human is confusing, seek the truth out and question all

just start to disidentify as the body-mind. when you disidentify as the body-mind you'll start to feel better as all the pressure you put on your character falls away. this will intice you to keep going as you feel freer!

have fun!! go and live life!! appriciate what you have now - this is all expressing the character, omnipr3sence, perfectly! you'll start to see "i barely thought abt x 2 days ago and now i see it here lol" "i was worrying about y and now i see it here too" "oh so this comes along with being the character too, maybe i should change that story"

you're in your own dream, see it as your dream and you'll start seeing the connections.

no need to convince the character, just move on. let yourself doubt this 'reality'

disclaimer: i'm still learning too! so please keep practising and have your own epiphanies!

reading

habit

no need to convince

behaviour

[ddlcbrainrot]

Okay, thing about ["Can they be happy if they're all not real"] you HAVE to assume that they will be if there wasn't a proper ending, if you didn't have to directly interface as a god to their world, they would eventually learn to deal with the nature of their reality because there is no other option, and while you could see that as something to be terrified of, I don't think it should be. Life as a whole, artificial or not is meant to have meaning, but something that frustrates alot of people is the fact the purpose of life is inherently undefined, there's NO meaning on it's own, and if there isn't any meaning to start out with, how could there EVER be meaning? However, that's not how things really are, right? because you live for a reason, a personal reason tied to who you are I'm not just talking about ["Oh you were born!"] ["You have some divine reason to be here!"] NO! the idea that someone else should get to determine your life purpose, that life itself should determine your purpose is fucking STUPID to me because if you know it consciously or not, you have a reason to live, as a core moral principle, or a simple motivation, you have a reason to live and THAT is life's meaning life DOESN'T have a perfect story, no inherent theme to weave through it's different timelines life has NO meaning but the kicker here is that your life, your human experience is driven by motivation motivation IS life's meaning, nothing else So the idea that anyone, trapped for eternity would succumb to despair, forever? is STUPID because eternity is a WHILE and the idea that only one emotion can be even conceptualized to stay the same amount of potent over that eternity is also, really, really dumb if life, experience, doesn't have variables, risks, lows, than what is the POINT?! an afterlife, a fate where you are eternally happy, it seems good! yeah! but it is PURPOSELESS you don't have any drive to GET better, because you're already perfect! there's no need to work to achieve anything, because you'll be in a CONSTANT high eternal bliss is a hell of lost humanity, lost purpose and personally, the idea of overwhelming trial and suffering for eternity in hope of getting better, is SO so much more beautiful to me in this thought, the Doki's are in a type of hell, I recognize that an eternity of somewhat solitude, trapped from what is real but they never experienced that, they aren't trapped, they've been born in hell and I don't think that fate will stay as bad because torment dulls over time, you begin to be able to deal with it better and if they are all trapped together and able to experience life to some degree of normalcy, everything might be okay you might disagree with me but my main reason for thinking this is that even with an eternity in hell, you must believe that eventually, you can be happy sure, it may be short lived but it's better to have hope in hell, than to be purposeless so yeah I think that they'll be able to handle being trapped outside of humanity's world they have an eternity to get used to it, one can assume

you said it yourself, people in real life are kind of obsessed with finding meaning, or just have some sort of comfort in the idea that they should their lives have a greater purpose or worth if that makes sense. so, having that being taken away for you, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that your whole life is fake, that there is no greater purpose to strive for, would be a hell of a realisation. and i think it would take a toll on all of the girls.

but i do agree that eventually they would learn to be content with what they have. the road towards that acceptance is gonna be a long one, and as u said urself they do have all of eternity to figure it out

[colorisbyshe]

I do think a lot of the self-obsessed "I can use any label to describe myself I want, identify with any culture I want, without actually living its material reality" (ie "I can be punk and not listen to punk or engage with any punk culture," culture as aesthetic-only, identifying as an activist and not doing shit, wanting to belong to a marginalized group despite... not being part of it) stems from an actual lack of community irl. (Not lack of available community, to be clear, but lack of engagement with potential community.)

Like, a huge part of it is a narcissistic need to define everything by your own terms but the reason why a lot of people feel like identity is solely personal is because... they haven't been part of the community where you experience people about the inner and outer boundaries of what their identity is. Communities where people work to come to a consensus on what they really are.

Like most communities spend... an abundant amount of time judging what does/doesn't count, what does/doesn't fit. They talk about values--if it's more an activist space, it's about values and expected actions. Music based subcultures constantly discuss what is and isn't part of the genre, what's authentic or not. People clash, form sub-sub cultures.

There's lots of lines drawn in the sand and nuance and headbutting and tentative agreements.

But if you're just on your own, not engaging with people or these spaces, you just have Your Lone Opinion. You have the "signals" of belonging to a community, where maybe other people outside-the-communities might approach you and bond with you, in a twisted way forming your OWN lesser-form community based on simulacra, so you'll feel less lonely, but you still haven't actually taken part of the truly communal experience.

And then when you actually try to engage... you probably get overwhelmed by the diverse-yet-still-strictly-defined experiences. And disengage. Going back to the self.

Like wear what you want (I wear shirts for bands/shows I've never engaged with but think look cool), do what you want, but maybe join a book club or art class or whatever in town and find a sense of community in that form instead of tearing at subcultures and marginalized groups you don't actually belong to and have no interested in meaningfully engaging with. Community is out there, you don't have to force your triangle peg into the circle hole.

You don't have to settle for just FEELING like you belong, you can find spaces where you actually belong.

[cant-you-be-m1ne-forever]

I'm so out of energy.

Sorry for venting so regularly but like i am just-- tired.

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Why am I hating this-

Feeling like it's so complicated, having simple problems but you can share it with no ones.

Feeling like you're too focus on small thing.

But nothing changes if you do say it out because it's just "simple thing" which you shouldn't paid an eye on it.

But you paid an eye on it so now you're suffering.

Feeling like they don't care, you're sitting waiting for them but you never dared to ask them out because you know how they will react and it'll hurt you even.

Feeling like you're trying your best not to be left behind but what you're having is just the dark swallowed your shadow.

Feeling like everything you're doing is not enough, it's a waste of time.

Feeling like you're just feeling like this all over again right when you hoped for the best, like-- when you're really changed and then suddenly you're downed.

Stopped hoping, stopped searching.

And now you're on your knees, reminiscing about the day of middle February.

Feeling like you're just doing nonsense to someone and they keep treating everyone nicely when treating you like a spare tire.

And every relationship you're having is not safe for you to share since they don't listen, they just giving their opinions which you knew but couldn't follow because everything was too overwhelming.

The worst part is, it's overwhelming when there's nothing to be overwhelmed.

Is this called mental disorders?

When you tried your best, risking your secure feelings, risking your own fucking safe zone to see the traumatizing past and fight it time over time to heal. It needed so much courage, like the dangerous trip you could have with your own self alone, but now it's back and probably nothing changed at all.

Feel like you're exaggerating it yourself but you can't help sitting alone in somewhere and literally zoned out running away from reality.

Like in your darkest time, you chose to end yourself but it was all criticality and no ones helped, no ones said sorry, they just wanted to keep you living without caring how much they hurted just to keep themselves from the feeling of guilt.

So what about you?

If you keep living, what will happen to you?

Trying to live with their expectations, because nothing will change otherwise after your suicidal attempts, they'll think that they were right keeping you alive like that and now they have all rights to keep the bad things which made you desperate.

Because you're just young and childish, you're selfish and stupid in their eyes, so they'll keep thinking that they're right and forcing you to live like them.

Or they'll fake it to change but what else when you realize it's just something they can never be and who they are will be keep like who they are forever, and that's even worse because you'll set a hope but then nothing will make that hope real.

You wish they could see what you're seeing in your life everytime but at the same time you know they won't ever be stable enough to keep trying it after one day of experience.

The one you see and treating like a priority is not seeing you as their priority. So you're just considering to keep them as one. Even though they're the only one you're setting hope for, they're the only one you're looking forward to, they're the only one, only one but maybe giving up makes everything better.

Just more painful a little bit.

You thought thing could change after it's brought to a higher places but no, that's nothing different because you're not someone they prioritize, they just don't dare to loose you because you're just someone who keeps them from the loneliness, who gives them affection and attention. They ask from you a lot but you receive a small amount, not only on physical but on mental, you can see it also. Clearly and obviously, you're just not as precious to a person as you hoped.

Even you already knew you don't have the rights to hope like that.

Just, you realized everyone look happier without you.

That's a fact since you don't know how to joke, don't know how to make a pun, don't know how to make people smile. And with the thing living in your head, who will stand it through the night?

You have nothing but yourself but you hate yourself so much to the point you can't stand your own existence.

Is it too much asking for a suitable companion?

Is it too much for not wanting to go through all of these?

Is it too much for asking for forgiveness?

Is it too much looking for love?

Just feel like no ones can accept all of yours, even if they said they do, you feel like it's a lie. The most painful thing is, no one will accept you when you're at your lowest.

You wish you could help, but it's hard when you just hate yourself.

[aurosoulart]

Hey, sorry if this is bad(?), but I was wondering if you had any advice for getting into the xr world/career. I think I've seen you mention the topic (encouraging others to join the field?) at least once, but I don't know how to even get started. Thank you for your time!

(If you could answer this not publicly I would appreciate it, but it's fine if you do, or like, if you don't answer at all)

not a bad thing to ask at all! I've actually been in the middle of writing a guide about this for some time that I will.... hopefully finish sometime soon ghskgh.

I hope you don't mind me posting this publicly - I ended up writing a short novel and figure it might be useful to others who are curious as well! anyways, the advice I give to people with a background in illustration is to start out with a Quest 2 headset. they retail at $300 new, but you can get them used via eBay, Craigslist, FB Marketplace or someplace like that for around $200 or under. the Quest 2 works without needing to be plugged into a PC, though you will probably want to buy a more ergonomic head-strap to make it more comfortable. (the head strap that Meta sells is overpriced, but this third-party one is really good) if you're interested in working with augmented reality (the type of work I do!) and have the ability to save up some extra money, I'd recommend waiting for the release of the Quest 3, which will launch this fall and cost $500. totally not a requirement at all to start learning, though.

other than that, I'd recommend starting out with free art programs like Open Brush and Gravity Sketch to familiarize yourself with creating in-headset. both of these programs have a large amount of tutorial videos up on YouTube - as well as an active community of other artists who are all generally very friendly and eager to help people learn. VR Art Live and The Spatial Canvas's Discord servers are the communities I'm part of. :)

after that, it all just comes down to posting your new artwork online to as many platforms as you can mentally handle (this is the hardest part for me, ghsghs), and also looking at paid XR artist programs/gigs. Mozilla Hubs, Horizon Worlds, and Figmin XR (that's me!) all have some creator opportunities where they pay people to create things on their platform.

you can also find work doing XR concept art, art performances, and I've even seen grant programs for XR artists from art galleries. these things are harder to find, but if you make a LinkedIn page and a modest portfolio of your XR art, chances are high that you'll get some eyes on it.

it's ridiculously easy to be a big fish in a small pond right now if you have any kind of skills with these programs. I will say that there does seem to be a push towards people who can create things that are interactive and can be shared with others (like AR Snapchat/TikTok/Instagram filters, experiences created and published to platforms like Mozilla Hubs, Figmin XR, etc.), so that's something to keep in mind while learning - but not something that should stop you!

going from 2D illustration to creating things in 3D space is a whirlwind of learning new skills that can often feel overwhelming, but the most important thing is that it should feel fun and enjoyable to you. I started out by just listening to music while painting in Tilt Brush (Tilt Brush was the original version of Open Brush, before Google made it open-source) and creating whatever felt the most fun in the moment. everything else just came from natural curiosity and connecting with other artists in the space.

lastly... I have no technical (coding, traditional 3D modeling) skills. I am a 2x college dropout with chronic mental illness, and prior to my current employment I was never able to hold a job for longer than 3 months. and yet....... this new industry has changed my life completely, and at 29 years old I finally feel like I have a purpose. I'm somehow a software developer now, without needing to know anything about software development. that's wild!!!

this is why I'm so excited for the future. if this brand-new technology (still in its infancy! viewed as frightening by so many!!) was able to help me in such a radical way... what will that mean for even more people discovering it as it becomes more accessible?

I don't know the answer to that yet... but I do know how wonderful it is to see people learning about all of this for the first time. helping with that alone is more than enough for me 💖

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Foolish Dreams

TW: Implied past torture & captivity (choking, bruises, scratching), touch-starvation, being guarded due to past trauma, kinda emotional???

Full credit to @shywhumpauthor for this prompt. I hope this is a good read!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♤♤♤~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They thought they were over it. That it was just another fleeting emotion they could ignore. A frivolous want they could quite easily live without. After all, Whumpee had managed to function even with a scarce amount of their basic needs.

Sure, they'd already been with Caretaker for well over six months, but that didn't mean that all the scars from their past had been completely erased. Time isn't magical enough to make everything fade. This time; however, it wasn't thet they were in physical pain, aside from the usual come-and-go tension in their muscles, partially from apprehension and totally from their past torment.

It was a different kind of ache, something that plagued their soul, a monster lurking in the darkest corners of their mind. It made their chest tighten and their breathing go shallow just thanking about it. Like an itch they couldn't scratch.

They longed for a gentle touch. They didn't have anything specific they wished for, just whatever they could get to cater to their insatiable craving. It was something they could never do for themselves. It made them feel weak and desperate. Much like an animal trapped in a cage trying to claw its way out to no avail.

All they had to do was ask Caretaker. They'd gotten better at that. But they'd only ever asked for things they'd needed. Like help with stitches where they couldn't reach because the consequence of attempting that by themselves would be their death or severe blood loss if they were fortunate. Dire needs.

Caretaker had managed to slowly coax some of their wants out of them, but there was a major difference between what they liked on their pancakes and. . .this.

It wasn't just their pride that stood in their way, rather, it was a much deeper concern. The thought of someone else touching them for longer than was needed, for something unnecessary, made their skin crawl. It felt far too reminiscent of their time with Whumper, where they would have given anything to be free of that monster's touch, of the nails that dug into their fresh cuts, the fingers that wrapped around their neck, leaving deep purple bruises in their wake. They'd come to make synonyms of the words 'touch' and 'pain'.

But today, even the memories of their captivity couldn't torture them out of this.

"Whumpee? Is everything alright, love?"

Caretaker's gentle voice snapped them back to reality, and they turned their attention to them instead of the movie they'd pretty much drowned out anyway.

"Yeah. I'm fine," they replied evenly, their voice a million times calmer than the crashing waves of an overwhelming amount of emotions in their head.

Caretaker sighed deeply, the look in their eyes a clear indication of the number of times they'd had to deal with Whumpee's well-feigned stoicism. "Whumpee, you know you can talk to me about anything that troubles you, right?"

"Yes, I know," they snapped, and it came out much harsher than they'd intended. "This is just. . ." they faltered, and finally whatever resistance inside of them was obliterated.

"I-I know you'll probably think I'm just pathetic, but I don't care. I'd do anything for it, but please, please just hold me. Just a touch beyond necessity, anything, please. I'm not picky, jus-just PLEASE DO IT! I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE, CARETAKER, PLEASE!"

Their lip quivered violently, and it had taken them a moment to register that they were crying as fresh, hot tears rolled down their cheeks and wet their shirt.

It had been so long since Caretaker had seen Whumpee's gaze fall downcast or heard them beg for something. It broke their heart, but they couldn't just watch.

Slowly, with just a small amount of trepidation, they reached out for them, pulling them close into their arms, letting them rest their head into the crook of their neck. As expected, Whumpee flinched violently, but they actually made no effort to leave Caretaker's embrace.

After a few solid minutes of crying, Whumpee let go, pulling out some tissue paper from the box near them and wiping their face.

Once they'd calmed down, Caretaker put each of their hands down on their shoulders, exchanging glances with them to silently ask if it was okay.

Whumpee flinched again, though less intense as the first time, but they nodded their affirmative, and Caretaker gently began to knead the corded tension out of their shoulders.

Even Whumpee themselves was shocked at how fast they melted into the touch. They couldn't actually believe what they'd been depriving themselves of, for so long, when it had been at their fingertips this whole time, all they had to do was ask. Okay, to their credit, maybe it wasn't that simple. It had felt like having to move mountains of trauma. But the way the tightness blissfully dissipated from their muscles and how Caretaker was concerned enough to ask what felt too soft to be relieving and what felt rough enough to be slightly too painful, just the fact that they genuinely cared made it seem all the more worthwhile.

Whumpee had relaxed enough to close their eyes, to go completely boneless under their touch. . .the same Whumpee that still slept with one eye open and a penknife near them on their worst days. It sparked a few tears of joy to prick at Caretaker's eyes.

Whumpee turned to them, and a rare smile found its way onto their lips. "Thank you," they breathed out, and they meant it with every fibre of their being.

"Don't mention it, lovely. Anytime you need this, just ask me. I've been meaning to for a while actually, but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. You're never a burden, Whumpee, especially not when it comes to something like this," they replied, voicing out Whumpee's internal fears.

"Besides, you look adorable like this, so why wouldn't I want to?" they added, grinning.

Whumpee laughed softly as Caretaker continued rubbing their shoulders.

Sometimes, it was okay to let down your guard. To break down reinforced concrete walls of indifference built by years of pain. With the right person, you could learn to live freely again, without the shackles of constant anxiety and apprehension. It is true that a simple touch does not possess the power to erase all the scars of the past, but it could tremendously improve the present.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @catsarecool00 @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @shr3ya @crotchgoblin69

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

[divinegrey]

bottom reyna when???

oh honey, bottom reyna is my GOSPEL lets fucking GO

NSFW!!!

TASTY TOPPINGS | BOTTOM!REYNA X GN!READER

words: 1000 warnings: explicit 18+ content, minors dni. domme bottom reyna, mentions of implicit servitude, read at your own discretion.

HEADCANONS

The statement "Reyna is a top" might be one of the most frequent statements you've heard being bandied around in the lounge room when everyone is too drunk to care about politeness. What else is there to talk about except the sex lives of your coworkers?

But you, being one of Reyna's frequent hookups... you know the full truth of it.

In the bedroom, Reyna is the pure definition of topping from the bottom. The woman is obsessed with chasing the feelings of pleasure and pain, both in her work and in the bedroom. Most would assume she's too controlling to allow herself to be touched.

In reality, it's quite the opposite. You're nothing more than a tool for Reyna's pleasure, to be used exactly how she wants it and when she wants it.

You're more than happy to do it. Reyna doesn't fuck just anyone in the Protocol. In fact, she's exceedingly picky about who gets to see her full beauty and greatness with their own two eyes. Lucky you!

Within the Protocol, you're the only person who's set foot into her room and into her bed. Let's just say you get the reward of a lifetime whenever you do your job in taking care of her.

There have been some moments with Reyna that you'll always remember, with a few in particular that never fail to make you hot in the cheeks.

SPICY HEADCANONS

One such instance was the first time you and Reyna hooked up. It was after a mission and the adrenaline surge was running high in your blood. Reyna looked near manic and feral with the amount of souls and energy she had consumed, and it seemed that she wanted something more out of it.

And so you became her willing victim. How are you going to say no to one of the prettiest (and most terrifying) women you've ever met in your life?

The moment you reached Reyna's room, you were being stripped of your armor and clothes, and you were moving to undo the straps of Reyna's protective gear before she shoved you back onto her bed.

"Listen closely, cariño," Reyna's voice was raspy with her whisper, her hand gripping your face. Your heart was pounding, and you knew she could hear it. Reyna's eyes were glowing, almost to an extreme, and you could feel a faint tingling from her hands pressing into your skin. "I gave you the honor of being in this room with me. You will not abuse that honor. You will do as you are told. Understood?"

All you could say in reply was a very soft "Yes, ma'am."

Lucky for you, Reyna was delighted by your obedience, and went on to make a show of removing her clothes. You didn't dare move an inch from your spot on your bed, and while Reyna moved, showing more and more of her skin, you felt your brain slipping somewhere else. Somewhere more... light.

You felt fuzzy all over. Whether this was an effect of Reyna or not, you didn't care. There was an overwhelming need to serve her, filling your bones with blistering hot arousal.

Finally, finally, Reyna took her seat on your face, her hand gripping your hair with her nails in your scalp, and the truth became realized.

You're nothing but a toy for Reyna's pleasure. Reyna takes, and she takes, and she takes until she is limp and shaking with pleasure. Your face is covered with her slick and though you can hardly breathe, you continue devouring her with the intent of a starving man on his knees at the altar of a god.

Reyna is a goddess, you find yourself thinking. I want to serve her. I want to be hers.

Reyna rode your face until she orgasmed, hot and heavy on your face with a full-body shudder that was followed by a profound release of energy.

It was only until after Reyna was fully satiated that you discovered the first night was your indoctrination.

Afterward, Reyna would summon you to her room at the dark hours of the night, and every single time, you would go. Pleasing Reyna became an addiction, one that you never wanted to let go of because seeing Reyna in the throes of pleasure was far too beautiful a sight to rid yourself of.

Some nights she would mount your face. Others, she would have you kneel at the foot of the bed with your hands behind your back, like a true supplicant, and make you beg to pleasure her.

You always would.

Why wouldn't you, after all?

She's the Empress, and you're her mere subject.

But nobody knows.

Nobody will know the things that you do in the dark for Reyna. The things you have done for her. The things you will continue to do.

BONUS

Friday nights in the lounge room are always a fun time. Jett, Phoenix, and a few others are playing a nasty game of monopoly that seems to have been running on for weeks, with you as the appointed referee to keep things calm.

In the corner of your eye, you notice the door to the lounge room crack open. A whisper of something that only reaches your ears, followed by a crackling sensation that races up your spine.

Pink eyes stare at you from the dark for a mere moment in time, before disappearing.

Letting out a yawn, you stretch on the couch before standing up. "I'm going to bed, losers. Don't kill each other."

Nobody gives pause to your exit. Phoenix bids you goodnight with a wave of his hands, and Jett steals some paper money from Neon while the latter isn't looking.

You move through the halls until you arrive to the door of Reyna's room. You knock. You enter. You close the door, twist the lock, then fall to your knees.

Footsteps follow, and a warm hand cups your jaw, tilting it upward.

"I've trained you so well, pet." Reyna murmurs. She cocks her head to the side. "Mommy wants to come on your face. Get on the bed."

Without question, you move to the bed.

Reyna flashes you a sharp grin, and you fall prey to her once again.

~~~~~ A/N: can you tell that im a little obsessed with bottom!reyna

[kyovtani]

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 – 𝐤𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮 (𝟐)

— pairing: Kyoutani Kentarou x female Reader

— genre: smut, angst, little bit of fluff to keep the balance; tattoo artist!kyoutani, inexperienced!reader, strangers to lovers!AU, SLOW BURN

— word count: 9.6k

— warnings: swearing, mentions of infidelity and violence, as well as the consumption of drugs and alcohol; smut: corruption kink, degradation and dumbification, dacryphilia, praising, spitting, (soft) dom!kyou, oral (m. receiving), fingering, dry humping, unprotected sex (dont do that kids), impreg kink, iwaoi say hi-

— (A/N: and here’s part two! thank you SO much for all the love you sent my way after i published the first part. ngl i was a little nervous bc i thought it was boring and not interesting at all but you guys easily pushed me out of that hole so thank you for everything. i love and appreciate you with my whole heart. all the love, zade xx)

[ part one ]

— summary: after fucking up, you make it your mission to get him back..(im so bad at this pls just- okay.)

"He's not picking up, Hana", you say, another soft cry falling from your lips before you bury your face in your pillow.

“Once in my fucking life a guy treats me good and the way I've always wanted to be treated and I had to fuck it up. Why the fuck am I like this, Hana? Why can I not enjoy one fucking good thing in my fucking mediocre life", the profanities keep coming just like the tears and the amount of frustration and anger rushing through your veins is nowhere near normal anymore.

"Calm down, love", Hana sighs and makes you sit up so she can look into your tear stained face as she tries her best to make sure her words actually find their way to your pain clouded mind, "at this point you shouldn't worry too much because you do know Kyoutani, don't you? He does lose his temper a lot, so give him the time he needs and then you'll show up at his doorstep, suck his cock and make up with him, yeah?", she explains calmly.

"If this hurts you so much, why the fuck did you even say he's just a friend, Y/N? I really don't understand", Hana mumbles and lets out another sigh, her hands caressing yours softly, managing to calm you down a little bit.

“You're right, I should just– give him some time and things will eventually fall into place", you reply after crying a little more and with an encouraging smile your best friend nods at you before she suggests a movie marathon to which you happily agree.

At least something to distract you from all the demons inside your head.

After changing into your pj's and doing your night time routine, you plop down onto the couch next to your bestie again, her eyes focused on the phone in her hand and knowing she's probably either sexting or inviting her new boyfriend has you shrugging at her lack of attention as you start looking for a good movie to begin the night with.

However, just when you're about to read the description of some kind of french rom-com, Hana puts her phone back into her lap and starts staring at you with her pretty eyes widened in shock.

"What's wrong?", you ask and turn to look at her, reaching for her hands but before you even get the chance to touch her, Hana unlocks her phone and holds it up for you to watch someone's instagram story.

The video begins with loud music, a crowd full of young college students whose faces definitely are familiar.

Everyone in the video is dancing, making out, smoking and just chatting in a random living room and every now and then there's someone yelling in the back – a typical college party.

However, just as the video is about to end, the camera shifts to a tall male leaning against the wall, obviously standing really close to the person who's filming and it takes you a full blown thirty seconds to realize who said male is.

Kyoutani Kentarou.

You stare at the phone for another minute, your throat dry and your head empty as a thick veil of tears slowly starts blurring your sight before you finally decide to pay attention to the username.

"He can't be fucking serious", you hiss, fisting the blanket beneath you, the urge to punch something or someone becoming unbearable, "what the fuck is he doing at a random college party with – Sora?"

"Y/N, don't–", "Whose party is that?", you interrupt your best friend, not giving a single fuck about her attempts to calm you down; not anymore. Hana gulps harshly and strictly avoids your gaze as she mumbles a name and you roll your eyes, asking her to speak up with an annoyed sigh.

"It's one of Yuuji’s frat parties", and as soon as your best friend says the name of your ex-boyfriend, a cold shiver of disgust runs down your spine and you can feel yourself getting lightheaded from all the emotions rushing through your overwhelmed body.

"Don't follow me if you're going to stop me from leaving, Hana", you say and stand up before quickly disappearing inside your room.

You have no idea how you manage to get dressed, your outfit consisting of a pair of jeans and a hoodie you can't even remember buying and you don't even wanna think about what your hair and face look like when you end up leaving the house with your keys and your phone.

After driving this route for over two years on an almost daily basis, it takes you less than ten minutes to arrive in front of the huge house your ex-boyfriend lives in.

The memories start finding their way back into your head way too fast, taking away your breath and numbing your whole body because even if you didn’t love Yuuji anymore, the bitter feeling of betrayal still manages to hit you in just the right way.

It takes you a lot of willpower to actually approach the house and eventually get in. And after being in between the crowds of drunk, stinky college students, you remember why you hate college parties so much.

"I – Wow”, a familiar voice manages to break through the loud music, your instant reaction just an annoyed eye roll, “you were the last person I expected to see at one of our frat parties", Yuuji says and comes to stand in front of you.

His blonde hair messily falling into his handsome face and from the way his whole face seems to be covered in the deepest shade of red – including his eyes – you know that he's probably higher than the stars and you can't help but sigh.

"I'm not here to party, Yuuji", you hiss, feeling the anger crawl up your spine again the longer you look at your ex, "my boyfriend is here and I have to talk to him."

"So you and that tattooed guy are actually a thing? Didn't think so since he, you know – showed up with another girl", Terushima mumbles and pulls out a cigarette from his pocket, a mischievous smile on his lips.

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Yuuji", you spit back and roll your eyes, taking in the way the pretty boy arches his brows up in pure shock at your rather new attitude, "go and get high or whatever you do to feel proud of yourself", are the last words you say to him before you walk away, your heart thrumming inside your throat.

Your eyes roam the huge crowd, desperately searching for the only face you wanna look at right now and you try to remember where they were standing in the video Sora had posted only to realize that you can't remember.

After all you only watched the video once, your whole attention laying on Kyoutani. And after almost fifteen minutes, you find yourself slowly giving up.

Maybe this was just not meant to happen or maybe Kyoutani has left already.

He probably left with Sora- something you can’t and won’t ever blame him for.

After all she's literally one of the prettiest and hottest girls you have ever seen – anyone who rejects her would be out of their mind (or not attracted to girls which isn't the case when it comes to Kyoutani).

You give it another ten minutes of desperately looking around before you let out a deep sigh which gets lost in the loudness and thick air of the party before you finally start making your way back to the front door.

You quickly walk back to your car, trying your best to ignore everyone around you, especially all the drunk guys who are currently about to get into a verbal fight over something totally random and the last thing you want to experience those threats becoming reality.

At some point you're scared they might even include you which is probably why you end up literally sprinting and even though you always park so far away from frat houses just because you've heard way too many stories of people getting their cars stolen during parties, but right now you just wished you would have listened to your gut feeling and parked in front of the fraternity like every normal person.

However, to your life long luck, you spot a tall figure standing a little too close to your vehicle just as you’re about to unlock it. You slow down your movements almost instantly upon seeing the stranger, yet your eyes still try to figure out if it's someone you know despite the darkness surrounding the two of you.

He has probably spotted you by now, after all you're still panting like crazy from speed walking down to where your car is and it takes you a full minute to realize how loud you're actually being.

"Y/N", the male suddenly says, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine and even though it could have been everyone, it sounds a tad bit too familiar to your ears which is probably why you end up approaching him slowly.

"It's me, Kyoutani", he adds and at the same moment the words leave his lips, you finally recognize his pretty features which seem extra beautiful underneath the bright moonlight.

And then realization hits you.

"How did you know–", "Hana called me and asked if I could make sure you got home even if I didn't want to talk to you. So, here I am. Get in the car so I can tell her I did my part of the job", he interrupts you quickly, obviously not having the intention to interact with you and the way his usually so tender-filled eyes and calming voice are nothing but ice-cold has a thick veil of tears blurring your sight.

Never ever did you think about the moment, where Kyoutani puts the cold mask on he loved to hide behind when he had first looked at you all those weeks ago.

And the longer he avoids your gaze, the heavier the burden on your chest becomes.

"I'm sorry, Tani", you whisper, your voice breaking at the end, easily giving away how much his cold demeanor has gotten to you.

“Of course you're not just a friend to me and I d-don't know why I introduced you like that, everything happened so quickly and I – panicked. It's not an excuse and does not justify my behavior but I just wanted you to know that you've always been more than just a friend to me", you continue, managing to keep talking upon realizing that Kyoutani won't interrupt you and the way he even listens to you with his eyes looking everywhere but yours is absolutely enough for you.

"What am I to you then, Y/N? Am I the guy you're casually fucking? Your booty call? Am I your second choice? Like what the fuck do you expect me to say? I know we never put a label to – this", he starts pointing at you and then himself, "but you knew I was serious about it, about you. So, I just don't understand why you would even think about considering me a friend. I told you that I am not one for that friends with benefits kinda shit and you agreed yet you did this and now I can't help but be convinced you just used me to get that Yuuji fucker.”

Kyoutani is angry and he doesn't even try to hide it as he spits out those words, the ones he’s probably been dying to say out loud for the past few days and you know he has every right to actually be mad at you, his words still hit you in a way you didn't expect them to.

"I'd never do that to you, Kentarou; I'd never use you like that, please believe me", you say quickly, a little surprised you're even able to form proper sentences.

“You m-mean so much to me and I just don't know how to put it into words. My heart hurt so much when I watched you type your number into Sora's phone but the demons in my head, they just kept talking over my heart and – I'm just really sorry, Kyou, I really am", you sigh and after realizing that he's not going to look at you, you finally manage to shift your gaze away from his pretty face.

"Go home, Y/N. It's been a long day for both of us and I think some more distance will help me get my mind straight", Kyoutani replies after a long, torturous beat of silence lingering in the cold air and even if it wasn’t the reply you had hoped to hear, you're glad he's at least not completely ending it.

"Okay b-but at least let me drive you home?", you ask softly, wiping away the few tears which had managed to escape and when you look up at the beautiful faced male in front of you, his eyes meet you for the first time since what feels like forever and you feel yourself melting away.

"I don't think that's a good idea, pretty girl", Kyoutani sighs, the soft pet name sending your mind into the sweetest haze of comfort just like that, "it's only been a few days but I am craving your touch and I just know I'm going to lose it and fuck you against the next best surface if we get into that car together, so I have to decline this offer", he adds and takes another step back, his lips stretching into a tiny smile and you can’t deny how much his words have you gotten you worked up, but you have no choice but to nod.

"Have a good night, baby", Kyoutani sighs and deep down you're hoping for a kiss, after all it's been way too long since you got to feel close to him but instead, he just lifts his hand up and starts waving at you and just as he is about to turn around, you find yourself reaching for his wrist. The fear and despair inside of you making you a little too brave for your personal liking but you know you can't just let him walk away like that.

"Please, Tani- Kyoutani", you whisper and let out a soft sigh of relief when he turns around to face you again, "I won't try anything, I just want to spend a little bit more time with you."

Kyoutani takes a deep breath, his dark eyes roaming your face and wandering down your body and even though it feels like he's literally devouring you alive, you enjoy his burning gazes regardless, a hidden part inside of you even craving them.

A solid minute passes by before he lets out a sigh and gives you a nod, his plump lips pressed into a thin line.

It takes you another deep breath and a couple of seconds to actually calm yourself down from the rollercoaster of emotions you've been through within the time span of an hour and as you sit there in your car, inhaling the cold air of the night, your mind starts replaying everything that went down, starting from the day you met Kyoutani, to your first and most recent kiss, as well as the encounter with Sora and your deep anger towards Yuuji.

The drive to Kyoutani's apartment passes by in a blur, way too fast for your liking and you can't help but pout when you pull up in front of the huge building, knowing very well that this will be the last interaction with the handsome tattoo artist for the upcoming few days and you can already feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

He's been awfully quiet, not like you actually said anything but Kyoutani's silence was intense, boring into your soul and actually suffocating you to a point where the urge to just jump out of the car became overwhelming.

You know he's probably going through everything just like you, yet the feeling that his thoughts are more on the negative side just won't leave you alone and you hate the way your assumptions are being confirmed as soon as Kyoutani turns to look at you.

"I – love you, Y/N", he suddenly says, his voice soft and calm, yet still deep and the way it's filled with tenderness and the sweetest bit of longing makes the effect of those magical words even heavier.

Your lips part in shock, your head having a difficult time actually processing his confession and you can feel your whole body going into a standby mode.

"But you're not good for me."

You remember the way your heart broke into thousands of pieces when you found out the alleged love of your life was cheating on you without even batting an eye.

The pain was so intense and heavy, you didn't know how to deal with it and at some point you were convinced that your heart had stopped beating for a solid minute. It was bad, left you speechless and threw you into a hole of darkness you barely managed to escape from, yet still leaving you grateful for the experience.

You thought your first heartbreak would be able to prepare you for what's to come in the future, but what you went through as soon as those words had fallen past Kyoutani’s lips, can't be compared to anything you've ever felt before.

Your heart starts clenching as his words keep replaying inside of your head and your throat so is going absolutely dry from your desperate attempts to gasp for air as the feeling of being suffocated comes back.

Everything around you seems to disappear, your eyes still focused on Kyoutani's intense gaze as the feeling of emptiness starts filling up your whole body.

You easily lose track of time, your heart beat so slow and heavy and when the wave of reality crashes you yet again, an almost inaudible sob falls past your lips.

"B-But...", you can't get yourself to speak, the words getting stuck in your throat and soft cries the only thing filling the inside of your car.

And yet, there are so many things you want to tell him, so many things rushing through your mind at the highest speed, almost impossible to grasp them and actually put them into proper sentences.

"You have too much control over me. I lost myself trying to fit into the picture of a lover you need and deserve. But – I am not who I used to be anymore”, Kyoutani explains, nervously rubbing the sides of his pierced node with his thumb as he avoids looking in your direction at all costs.

“I am scared of losing what's obviously not mine. You make me feel weak and vulnerable and I just can't deal with it. You've become the center of my world, and I can't control how much it affects me. How much you affect me and – I hate it", he continued, his voice is still incredibly calm, yet a bittersweet tone of fear coating every single one of his words.

"B-But...", yet again, the whole of your vocabulary seems vanished, not one word to say as the knot in your throat tightens even further.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I thought I could do it but – I am not meant to love and you deserve to be loved in the most special way possible”, he takes another quick break, letting out a sigh of exhaustion, “and that's why I'm letting you go. Please, don't hate me. Take care and – goodbye, my love.”

Those are his last words before he presses his lips against your forehead, making your head spin like crazy because of the contrast of his heartbreaking words and his soft kiss.

Kyoutani leaves without saying another word. He doesn't even look back once as he walks away and enters the apartment building, while you can't stop staring at the door with hot tears streaming down your cheeks and loud sobs filling the suffocating air surrounding you.

There you are, yet again.

Your eyes staring into the dark night as your body tries to cope with the intensity of pain you've thought you had overcome.

The constant breaking of your heart starts numbing every part of your body and you slowly start losing yourself in this certain kind of darkness.

Seconds turn into minutes and without even realizing, a whole hour has gone by with you staring into nothing.

Your mind plays games with you as it keeps replaying his words, his behavior, his kiss and the feeling of slowly but certainly going insane as you get out of the car a little too fast.

You tumble back, the sudden coldness hitting you right in the face and the mental as well as physical exhaustion has your body trembling.

And then it hits you.

The wave of anger, wrath, frustration and hatred literally wakes you up, pulls you back into reality and ends up taking over you completely.

Your eyes find the huge apartment building Kyoutani lives in, staring at it as if you could set it on fire and you know what you're about to do is a bad idea but your body acts before your mind can even get the chance to intervene.

And that's how you find yourself almost brutality slamming your fist against Kyoutani's door, your heart hammering against your rib cage way too fast for it to be still physically healthy and ten thousand different thoughts rushing through your chaotic mind.

"What the fuck is going – Y/N", Kyoutani looks at you with his pretty eyes slightly widened in shock, his lips parting as he struggles to keep his eyes on you and a disgusting feeling of shame and embarrassment starts filling you up.

You know this is pathetic, you are aware of how stupid you look standing in front of him like this but you just can't get yourself to actually care about it.

"Y/N, please don't-", "No, I listened to what you had to say and now I'm going to talk and you're going to listen to me. Before that I am not going anywhere because I deserve this", you cut him off, hands balled into fists as you try to stay calm but the more you think about his words in the car, the angrier you get.

"I–", Kyoutani sighs, his eyes nervously roaming your face and upon noticing the way you seem to shiver from the cold and your lack of clothing, he lets his conscience get the best of him, "alright, come in then.”

You follow him inside, the familiar scent of vanilla and Kyoutani's favorite febreeze scent filling your nose and you hate the way how comfortable you are.

After all you've been spending quite some time in this apartment; visiting him after your classes so he could bury his face between your legs and then offer you some homemade food, followed by a good old ghibli movie and lots of cuddles has become some kind of routine.

Oh, how you hate him for ruining all of those memories.

"Do you want something to drink? You're probably freezing", he offers, his voice filled with concern and you know he is right and you'd definitely give everything for a cup of tea and maybe some water, you still shove all of your body’s basic needs into the very back of your head and try to regain your composure.

"I – you – we", you take a deep breath, your mind struggling to put all of those racing thoughts into some kind of order, yet failing miserably.

But there's so much you want to say to him; so many things you want him to hear and now that you are actually standing in front of him, your body betrays you.

"You're a fucking coward, Kyoutani Kentarou", is the first thing you finally manage to let out, "and I hate you for leaving me like this. I fucking hate you.”

Deep down, you hate yourself for saying those words; the choice of words and the incredible heaviness they come with are usually not your way of expressing yourself yet you're not regretting them.

You don't know how this night is going to end, maybe this will be the last time you get to see Kyoutani or he'll eventually fuck you into oblivion and you finally end up together; but nevertheless you want your words to hurt him; you want them to wake him up just like his did to you.

"How dare you confess your love to me and tell me I basically ruined your life in the same breath when you're the one who's fucking all of this – us up. Yes, I’ve made a mistake and I've been regretting my choice of words for the past four days, even came to the point where I accepted your distance and decided to let go because I know how much my words hurt you. But us ending like this? Definitely not going to happen", Kyoutani stares at you with his pretty eyes focusing you attentively, barely blinking, not moving at all; he’s just listening to you.

"I just – don't understand how you can be this oblivious."

"Oblivious? Oblivious to what?", he asks, his voice a little deeper and raspier, sending goosebumps straight dow your spine as if your body needed to remind you the effect he has on you.

"Oblivious to everything. This is what love does to people, Kentarou. Of course you're going to feel weak and vulnerable because of me - because of the one you love. After all the point of being loved and loving someone else is showing those vulnerabilities and weakness to the person you trust the most because you know, or at least you hope, they won't take advantage of it.”

You take a deep breath, your mind slowing down as you ease yourself into his calming embrace and subconsciously losing yourself in the comfort it comes with.

“I'm yours. I've been yours since the very first day and we both know this, that's why you are so scared of losing me. And that's why my words hurt you so much”, you can tell that he’s already processing your words as much as he can; his habit of scratching the back of his head giving him away easily.

"You said you've lost yourself trying to fit into this picture of someone who I deserve but – you are the one who created that picture in the first place. Just because my first boyfriend was an alleged goody two shoes doesn't mean that you have to be like that too. Fuck that", you hiss, the thought of Kyoutani changing even the slightest bit about himself sending jolts of anger through your veins, "I don't care if you dropped out of college or that you have tattoos and piercings and bleach blonde hair. None of that matters to me because it's you, your kind heart and your pure soul I fell in love with.”

And suddenly - you can feel the burden on your shoulders disappear when those certain words leave your lips and the second Kyoutani raises his eyebrows in slight surprise before he locks eyes with you again has another breath of fresh air run through your suffocated lungs.

"Yes, I'm in love with you, Kyoutani Kentarou. Believe it or not, but for me, you're perfect just like this, with all your tiny habits and every single tattoo. There's nothing I'd change about you and I'm genuinely, truly sorry if I ever made you feel like you needed to change for me. You're a great guy and I guess that's why I ran back here after sitting in that car, crying for an hour because I couldn't stop thinking about the way you confessed your love to me”, you feel the thick veil of tears appear before they manage to block your sight, making the pretty face in front of you turn into bourry little pixels as your emotions overwhelm you.

“And yes, you are meant to be loved; maybe not meant to be loved by me but you deserve to be loved, do you hear me?"

You go up to him, closing some of the distance between the two of you before your finger darts out and poke his strong chest, trying to ease the tension after letting go of all those thoughts, "you deserve to love and to be loved because you're a good person. And I just – wanted to thank you for letting me into your life. Meeting you, getting to know the beautiful person you are has been one of the best things that has happened to me and I will cherish these memories forever."

And with those words you take a deep breath, let out another sigh, goving away your acceptance of defeat before you lift your head and prepare yourself to say your last goodbye no matter how painful it is.

"Take care, Kyoutani Kentarou and thank you, for everything", the words fall past your lips in the form of a whisper solely because you're too scared to break if you raised your volume just slightly.

You turn around and feel the first tear find its way down your cheek before you even get to walk away.

And just as you wrap your fingers around the doorknob, the sound of rushed footsteps approaching you makes you halt your movements.

"D-Don't go", Kyoutani suddenly says, his voice breaking when he comes to stand behind you, so close you can actually feel the warmth he's radiating, "I need you...so bad", he whispers into your ear, pressing his forehead against the back of your neck and it's like everything that happened tonight becomes irrelevant.

You turn around, not expecting Kyoutani to push you against the door with his whole body, yet still embracing him as much as you can.

With a soft sob, you start inhaling his unique scent, grazing his soft skin with your fingers and letting the warmth blossom inside of your chest after feeling his rapid heartbeat beneath your palm.

"Don't leave me, please", he cries, the tears running down his flushed cheeks despite his desperate attempts of holding back, "let's do this whole love thing.”

You stand there for what feels like an eternity, just hugging each other, taking in each other's presence and calming down from everything that has happened in such a short time. You finally calm down completely, Kyoutani's soft touches and tiny kisses give you the last bit of energy you needed and for the first time in almost three months, there's not one demon in your head trying to make you overthink something.

Because this feels perfect; there's literally no other word to describe the feeling of holding Kyoutani Kentarou and being held by him.

But nevertheless, you've been on a constant adrenaline rush for the past four hours and the exhaustion has been killing you, making you grow tired a lot faster than usual.

"What about moving this to your room, hm? I'd rather fall asleep with you in your bed than against the door; especially because I know the boys are out and will be coming home soon", you say softly, lifting Kyoutani's head from the crook of your neck and looking at him.

He sighs and gives you a soft kiss, giving you a nod in response before he gets himself to let go of you; his warmth leaving with him and it's almost disgusting how you literally crave his presence.

After Kyoutani makes you drink two glasses of water to avoid the dehydration of your body, he hands you one of his thick hoodies and leaves you to get ready in his bathroom.

You come back to the sight of him sitting against the headboard of his king sized bed, his oversized shirt revealing the perfect amount of collarbones and you enjoy the sight of his pretty skin and the dark lines covering most of it as well as the way his sweats hug his strong thighs in the best way possible.

And as you watch his eyes lazily roam your body, a hot jolt of arousal finds its way through your veins and right to your cunt.

"Don't look at me like that, sweet girl", Kyoutani suddenly groans and cocks his head to the side, his tongue poking out to wet his lips before he gulps harshly; his eyes never once leaving yours.

"B-But Tani...", you reply, approaching him with tiny steps become you come to stand right next to his tall figure, feeling yourself growing needier because of the way your body is craving his touch now more than ever.

“Baby…”, he replies and gulps harshly, knowing your body better than yourself after weeks of getting to know you in a way nobody has ever before.

"Please, Tani...please, fuck me. I need to feel you inside of me. I've been waiting for so long...", you plead, your fingers coming to graze his pretty lips as memories of all the times he had turned you into a crying mess with those lips.

Kyoutani is just as affected by the change in tension as you, the slight bulge in his grey sweatpants as well as the hunger burning in his eyes giving him away.

"You're such a pretty angel girl, aren’t you?", he whispers and sits up, pulling you closer to make you stand in between his legs as he starts caressing your hot cheeks with his fingers.

“Yet you're saying all those naughty things”, Kentarou chuckles deeply, “imagine how people would react if they knew what a cockhungry little slut you actually are", upon hearing those degrading names, your cunt starts clenching around nothing and a high pitched whimper escaped your throat.

"For you...", you whisper, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth the second Kyoutani starts placing open mouthed kisses on your neck.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, pulling the material of his shirt a little too tightly.

"Of course, baby, you're mine after all and this sweet cunt", the sudden feeling of his palm pressing against the damped fabric of your panties has you gasping for air, "belongs to me, and me only", Kyoutani grunts, pulling the skin of your neck between his lips before he starts sucking gently as well as slowly moving his fingers against the lacey fabric between your legs.

"Yes, it's yours", you reply, after several weeks of being intimate with Kyoutani you've learned one thing and that's how much he loves hearing you say all those dirty and lewd things, "please fuck me."

"Patience, my love, patience. I am going to fuck you", Kentarou replies calmly and suddenly pushes you away, his hands disappearing from your body and when your lid flutter open because of the lack of touch, he shoots you one of his cocky smirks, "but let's not forget the whole friend situation, hm? What about you make it up to me before I fuck you like the little whore you are?"

His words have excitement rush through your blood, your head literally spinning just from the thought of finally getting to be on the giving end after weeks of him playing the selfless lover.

You nod eagerly, anticipation sparkling in your eyes as you watch him palm himself over his sweats before you get on your knees and wait for him to let go of his now fully erect cock.

However, the more seconds pass by like this, the more nervous you become because for some reason you suddenly remember that you've basically never sucked dick before.

Your head shoots up with slight panic written all over your face and of course Kyoutani notices your change in demeanor right away.

"What's wrong, angel?", he asks you and stops the movements of his hands.

"I don't know how to do it, Tani", you whisper, knowing there's no point in being shy about it, after all he happens to be the guy you've experienced your most firsts with.

"It's okay, baby, I'm going to help you”, Kyoutani replies and actually loses his composure for a second, “fuck baby, don't look at me like this when I'm literally about to fuck your throat", he hisses, throwing his head back as he grunts and his hips desperately bucking into the air.

Kyoutani takes another deep breath before he finally pushes his hand underneath the waistband of his sweats and with your eyes focused on his movements, you watch him pull out his hard length, a soft hiss falling past his plump lips when the coldness of the room grazes the slightly wet tip of his cock.

You gulp harshly, his impressive size in girth as well as length has your pussy throbbing like crazy, yet you can't help but wonder how the hell he's going to fit inside of you.

“Don't worry, baby, I know you're going to take all of my cock like the good girl you are", Kyoutani says after observing your facial expressions for some time.

"Give me your hand", he asks you softly, his voice still raspy and incredibly hoarse yet still soothing and you appreciate his attempts to calm himself down so you won't feel too nervous. With your heart slamming against your rib cage, you lift your hand up and are slightly overwhelmed at the sudden feeling of Kyoutani's warm spit pooling inside your palm. Without adding anything, he straightens himself and motions you to stroke his hard cock.

Not once do you stop looking at him as you wrap your fingers around the base of his impressive length and slowly start jerking him off.

Kyoutani cocks his head to the side, his bottom lip pulled in between his teeth and his eyes constantly fluttering close.

"Start with the tip, angel- just wrap your lips around it and start sucking, but be careful with your teeth, yeah baby?", he grunts, his hips thrusting into your fist every time the pace of your strokes slows down.

You give him yet another nod before look up at him one more time and do as he says.

The feeling of his cock between your lips is – different.

It feels like it's not supposed to be there, yet the salty taste of his precum coating your tongue has you sighing softly. Your tongue darts out, giving his tip a tiny kitten lick before you go back to sucking on it eagerly.

And while you seem to enjoy it a lot, Kyoutani is going absolutely crazy. You can see the way he's tensing his body as his grip in the bed sheets tightens and the vein on his neck pops out.

"F-Fuck, baby, just like that", he praises you "now try to take more of it in a-and use your hand for the rest", Kyoutani's voice is shaky, his eyes are nervously roaming your swollen lips and the string of spit connecting them to the tip of his cock.

Without giving it another thought, you take a deep breath and take more of him, trying your best to not graze his sensitive cock with your teeth and despite your initial struggle, you still enjoy the feeling of his cock on your tongue.

You subconsciously wrap your fingers around the part of his cock which you can't fit inside your mouth and suddenly it's like your body knows exactly what to do.

Kyoutani's moans grow louder and the soft thrusts of his hips become a little less controlled. You look up at him every now and then, trying your best to keep the steady rhythm as you bop your head.

And then he suddenly thrusts his length all the way to the back of your throat, your gag reflex just about to go off when he pulls back which is the moment you take notice of the tears streaming down your cheeks.

You give him a soft smile before going back to wrapping your lips around his tip, but you don't get very far.

Kyoutani pulls you back, his grip on the back of your neck not firm enough to hurt you.

"I promise I'm going to fuck your throat properly and even cum in your mouth the next time we do this but right now I just can't stop thinking about that tight cunt of yours", he says, helping you get up and almost instantly pulling you onto his lap; his wet cock rubbing against your panty covered core as Kyoutani pulls you in for a kiss.

It's sloppy and rushed, the way his tongue grazes over yours before he pulls it between his lips and starts sucking at it. Your hips start moving against his cock, your sensitive pussy craving some kind of friction as the arousal has your head spinning like crazy.

You start moaning and whimpering into his mouth when Kyoutani’s hips start meeting your desperate movements, applying the perfect amount of pressure onto your needy clit.

You feel the knot in the pit of your stomach tightening, the clenching of your cunt becoming worse the more you hump Kyoutani's cock like a woman starved.

But nothing prepares you for the feeling of one of his large digits entering you. Your hole start clenching around his finger Kyoutani pushes another one in, both digits buried inside of your little cunt.

"Such a good girl for me, aren't you, baby? I'm going to finger you nice and slow so you're ready for my cock. Now come on, my love; show me what a good whore you are and ride my fingers", Kyoutani encourages you, his hot breath fanning against the sensitive skin behind your ear and without missing a beat, your hips meet the skillful thrusts of his fingers.

Kyoutani continues to whisper naughty things into your ear, his other hand eventually wrapping around your throat as he makes sure you look into his eyes when you stumble over the edge.

Your high hits you hard and fast, the intensity knocking the breath out of your lungs and leaving you gasping for it; something you should be used to by now yet still can't believe is even possible.

He pushes you off of his lap softly, helps you get rid of his shirt as well as your ruined panties before he makes you lay down in the middle of his bed; eyes locking with yours when he also starts undressing.

"My pretty girl", Kyoutani sighs, his hand caressing the soft skin of your thighs, spanking you every now and then just because he's absolutely obsessed with the way your whole body tenses whenever his hand meets your skin.

“Look at me", he orders and almost instantly your head shoots up to meet his gaze, the sight of his naked body distracting you a lot more than you expected but after all this is the first time you get to see the rest of his tattoos; the ones you usually only get a tiny glimpse of depending on his outfit choice.

Kyoutani spreads your legs apart, his eyes never leaving yours even when he starts jerking off again and you can't hold back the soft whimpers and begs leaving your lips.

But also something about his flushed cheeks and swollen lips as well as his messy hair falling into his face has you incredibly turned on.

"We've never talked about this before but are you on the pill, baby?", he asks, pushing one of his thumbs into his mouth before he brings it down to your clit and starts rubbing soft circles into it, making you arch your back off of the mattress as you bury your face in the pillow to keep your noises down.

"N-No", you whisper, a deep sigh coming from Kyoutani and even though you know you shouldn’t do it, you stop him from bending over to the drawer of his nightstand, making him look at you in confusion.

“But I still want you to raw me, please...", you add and gulp harshly when his whole body seems to go into some kind of haze once the words leaveyour lips.

Kyoutani looks at you, his eyes darkening even more as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and lets out a loud moan of your name.

"I can't just raw you, baby", he presses through gritted teeth, his mask slowly falling apart the more you rub yourself against his cock, "you've never had sex without a condom and my pull out game is weak, even weaker when it comes to you because fuck – the thought of filling you up with my cum sounds so fucking good", Kyou groans when you scoot up a little, taking his length into your hand before you line him up with your entrance.

"B-But what if you get pregnant, sweet girl?", he sighs and tries to pull away, making you wrap your arms around his neck as you look into his pretty eyes.

"That will just show everyone around us how well you've fucked me", you whisper and elicit another deep moan from him, his whole body shaking slightly as he tries to hold himself back from just pounding into you.

"Such a cockhungry whore", he hisses and – finally – starts pushing his fat cock into your tiny cunt, the slight stretch making you both gasp for air.

“If that's what you want, then that’s what you get, you little slut. I'm going to fucking raw you and fill you up with all of my cum, make you my cumslut", Kyoutani grunts, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth before he harshly grabs your face and looks into your eyes as he buries more of himself inside of you.

"F-Fuck, you're big", you whimper, throwing your head back and trying your very best to stop clenching around his cock.

“We're almost there, baby- you got this, s-stop clenching", Kyoutani grunts against your parted lips. Without a warning, Kyoutani pushes the rest of his huge cock inside of you, bottoming out completely.

“F-Fuck...you’re so– tight”, Kentarou grunts, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, “it’s like you’ve never been fucked before.”

“S-So good...so fucking good, nngh-”, your little whimpers and whines are slurred, barely coherent as the feeling of being filled to the brim pushes you into a haze of pleasure.

You feel the pulsation of his cock against your spongy walls, his hands nervously roaming your body and groping one of your tits, as he obviously tries to calm himself down.

And then he finally starts moving.

A deep, guttural moan leaves the both of you when he pulls himself out of your tight hole, dragging his huge cock along the walls of your little cunt in the most delicious way possible before he almost brutally shoves himself back in again.

“Mhm, just like that, you little brat”, he grunts, sitting up on his knees as he pushes your legs further apart, his eyes focusing the way his fat cock stretches your hole just how he’s been imagining it all this time, “coming up to me and talking about having your little cunt rawed like some cumhungry little whore.”

You start nodding almost instantly at his words, your brain barely recognizing them, the only thing you can focus on being the way the tip of his cock grazes the entrance to your womb with every harsh, brutal thrust of his hips.

His thrusts find a steady rhythm, hard and so, so deep.

“Open your mouth”, Kyoutani grunts, a single drop of sweat finding its way down the center of his tattooed chest, the sight making you whimper and whine for him even louder as you part your lips as soon as you process his words.

“You know what? I’d rather have you say it”, he suddenly hisses, pulling his cock out of your spasming cunt before he presses your legs together and shoves himself back inside of you with one skilled thrust of his hips.

You have no idea at what point you start crying but by the time Kyoutani's moans and grunts start picking up their pace, you're a sobbing mess.

“S-Say wh-what?”, you sob, hiding your tear and spit stained face behind your hands, not daring to look up at him.

“I want you to ask for my spit and beg for my cum”, Kentarou’s voice grows raspier, the dominance seething through every single one of his words makes it so easy for you to fall even further into the hole of absolute submission, “and stop hiding yourself, angel girl..I wanna watch the way I’m fucking your brains out.”

A row of loud, high pitched whines and a combination of sobs and moans are the only thing you manage to respond with, your brain clouded with the feeling of his thick cock dragging along the spongy walls of your cunt.

And before you can even comprehend his next movement, you hear the loud sound of skin meeting skin followed by the delicious feeling of a sting sending jolts of pain through your body, something you’ve come to love after so many hours with the tattoo artist.

“I told you to ask and beg for it, angel girl..you’re making me wait”, Kentarou spits, never once halting the movements of his hips as he watches the way you start sobbing even more, your cunt spasming around his cock after his painful spank.

“Please...f-fuck, please spit in my mouth and my face and on my cunt- want it all”, you start brabbling, another row of incohrent begs following right afterwars as your hips sloppily meet his harsh thrusts, “I want you to stuff me full of your cum, too- please, Daddy, wanna be your little c-cumdumpster.”

“There you go..”, Kyoutani’s plump lips stretch into a big smile as his cock throbs at the sound of that one forbidden little word he’s come to love even more after hearing it from you only a handful of times.

He didn’t hesitate to tell you about how much it turns him on around two weeks after the two fo you had started dating and even though he never really expected you to use it, he was secretely hoping for you to overcome your shyness.

You had used it only twice before when the pleasure had gotten too much for your brain to handle and Kyoutani knew you’d stop holding yourself back as soon as you got a taste of his cock.

“What did you just call me, pretty girl?”, he cooes, giggling softly at the way you whimper and cry even harder, knowing oh so well what he wants to hear.

And for the first time you just can’t get yourself to argue with the little voice in the back of your head; the feeling of his cock stretching your tiny cunt making it so, so easy to just let go of all those doubts and worries.

“Please, Daddy”, you reply and look into his eyes, groping your own tits as you arch your back to feel him even deeper inside of you, “n-need your cum inside of me...please- want everyone to know who I belong to.”

You don’t really expect it, yet your pussy almost instantly start clenching around his cock when kyoutani harshly grabs your face, making you part your lips before he spits into your mouth.

The loud, lewd sound of it rings in your ears in the best way possible and acting like a literal aphrodisiac in combination with the delicious taste of his saliva coating the hot muscle of your tongue.

You hum softly before you swallow it all, a gentle sob escaing your lips before you look up at him again.

"Now go on, angel girl”, he growls, pushing his hand in between your legs to rub circles into your hardened clit, “I want you to cum for me. Be a good little dumpster for your Daddy and show me what only I can do to you.”

You can barely process his words, the lewdness just fueling the fire in the pit of your stomach as you lose yourself in the feeling of your upcoming high. But you still start nodding, cringing at the feeling your saliva dripping down your jawline.

And with one last thrust, you feel your high crashing down onto you with such heaviness, you're left absolutely breathless.

Your whole body is trembling as the waves of your orgasm hit you, a row of incoherent words leaving your lips before you stop trying and just start crying for your precious Daddy.

"That's my baby”, is the first thing your brain manages to process again, everything still a blurry mess and when you look at Kyou, you realize you’re still cumming.

Your cunt is almost painfully spasming around his big cock, your juices dripping down the sides of his length as he helps you ride out your orgasm.

“You’re such a good, good girl for Daddy, aren’t you? I'm so proud of you", Kyoutani praises you, his thrust a little sloppier than before and from the way he's digging his fingers into the skin of your waist, you can only assume that he's also quiet close, "you're also going to take all of Daddy’s cum, right, baby? We gotta make sure I fill you up nicely..."

You take a deep breath, your slightly overstimulated cunt sending shivers down your spine as your eyes focus on Kyoutani's parted lips.

"Please, Daddy...need you to fill me up with your cum", you encourage him and when you slowly push two of your fingers into his mouth, knowing how much he loves to suck on them no matter what situation you’re both in, you finally get to see his whole face crunch up in pleasure.

His body tenses up as his grip on your waist becomes firmer before he starts cumming inside of you with a deep, raspy moan; coating the walls in several shades of white with three thick spurts of his cum.

Kyoutani buries his face in the crook of your neck as he slowly calms down, loud breathing and rushed gasps for air the only thing to fill the inside of his empty room.

"I love you so much", he whispers and gives you a soft kiss, his cock still firmly buried inside of your sensitive cunt before he shoots you a soft smile; looking almost boyish with his glossy eyes and flushed cheeks.

"I love you, too, D-Daddy”, you whisper, gulping harshly as the words leave your lips, feeling yourself grow even smaller underneath his strong yet comforting gaze, “thank you for giving us a chance", you add and pull him into for another kiss.

"Kyoutani Kentarou, your favorite group of walking disappointments is back and better than ev - oh", Iwaizumi Hajime, Kyoutani's High School best friend, fellow tattoo aritst and roommate suddenly yells and almost brutally slams open the door, startling you to the last bone in your body.

Kyoutani is quick to cover you up with his body, his hand reaching for one of the blankets on the floor as he grunts in annoyance.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know–", "What is it, Iwa-Chan? Is he jerking off again? Kyoutani Kentarou you little piece of shit, just go and fuck that–", just like Iwaizumi, Oikawa – who also happens to be his best friend, felow tattoo artist and roommate – comes to stand in the doorway, bumping into his best friend before he finally spots the two of you.

"You're naked", he points out, closing his eyes almost instantly after realizing what he has just come to witness and despite the disgusting feeling of wanting to disappear and never come back again, you can't help but giggle at their shocked and slightly disgusted faces.

Kyoutani takes a deep breath and pulls out of you, still making sure to hide you behind his body before he hands you the blanket and lets his eyes shift to the door, looking at his best friends in pure disbelief.

"Kawa stop fucking staring and – can you two please fuck off?", he yells, pulling the boys back to reality and the way both of them shift to look at you only to blush from their necks to their ears has you chuckling softly.

This type of situation is nothing you’re not used to – unfortunately.

"Uhm – of course! Oh, my fucking God! So sorry, Kyou", Iwaizumi stutters and wraps his fingers around the doorknob, avoiding your eyes as much as he can before he pushes Oikawa away and then closes the door with another row of apologies.

Kyoutani just looks at you apologetically as he shakes his head and face palms himself, making the both of you burst into loud laughter.

And after taking a shower together and actually eating some late dinner with the boys, you fall asleep with Kyoutani's arms tightly wrapped around your waist, his face buried inside the crook of your neck and one last love confession.

And when those sweet words fall past his lips yet again, you realize – you're finally home.

[ banner source ]

[nochuvalencia]

𝐁 𝐁 𝐇 𝐌 𝐌 - jjk

I was basically inspired by these ^^^ pics of jk bc wow hot hi

⚠️ ALSO QUICK DISCLAIMER :: this is my first fanfic on here so it might be terrible but enjoy anyway. ⚠️

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 :: reader x crimeboss!jk

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: bitch you better have his money.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 :: ABSOLUTE SMUTTY FILTH heh angst too ig

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 :: 11.9k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 :: long haired tatted jk, that’s it, that’s the warning, uh kinda sketchy plot hsjsjsj, WOW ANGST ASF at the beginning tho, dub!con towards the middle don’t hurt me, fuck or die ig, gunplay????? yeah????? jks BLATANT OVERUSE of pet names, dacryphillia, major-ish character death, describing the injuries on a dead body, jk has a sir kink ig??? um excessive over exaggerated choking bc jks hands yum, explicit seggs, rough jk, he’s kinda mean, dom!jk, sub!reader, oral m&f receiving (facefucking on both ends), coochie sniff if you squint, coochie slaps if u squint too, spanking, OVERSTIMULATION, unprotected seggs, degradation, he calls her a bitch once idk, other bad names, praise too ig, jk gives an ultimatum, SLIGHT aftercare, he kinda like switches from flirty to murderous like a bunch of times it’s kinda weird, jk has an impossibly huge shlong obv, contemplating death, super mature themes, reader is a BIG fucking crybaby, overuse of the word fuck, corruption kink at the end if u squint super hard, also DUB!CON in case you didn’t see it, at this point I should just write what it doesn’t have

“If you’re not out of my house in 3.4 seconds, I'm dragging you out by the testicles” you uttered, your alarmingly calm voice laced with raw brutality as hot tears cascaded down your burning cheeks, your arm outstretched and pointed toward the blinding light of the hallway that contrasted with your dark bedroom. You said nothing more, with your eyes trained angrily at one of the four blank tan walls nearby, not possibly being able to bear speaking to or sparing a glance into the eyes of a cheating whore. The woman you had just caught him with scurried past you wearily, a terrified and confused glint in her eyes as she passed your frigid frame sans underwear, with her sparkly silver pumps dangling from her fingers and a wrinkly silver dress hanging limply from the clutches of her other hand. The man in question shuffled cautiously around the bed, clutching the exposed parts of his body and approaching you with extreme hesitation and outstretched hands, as if trying to calm the already blazing flames of your fury. He laid a cold, rough hand on your shoulder squeezing softly, a motion that once brought you comfort but only added the all consuming hatred that bubbled up inside you akin to ravenous bile filling up the pit of your belly. “Did you not hear what I said? Get out.” You spat, glossy eyes still pointed toward anything but him.

“____ please” he croaked, like the slimy frog he truly was, his voice dripping in false agony which only neared you closer to the brink of undoubtedly committing an act of extreme violence against that man. “Please baby it wasn’t-'' you blanked. He was about to make an excuse. A stupid, rediculous, horrible, completely false excuse which you had absolutely no patience to hear. So you snapped, harshly shrugging your shoulder and sending his arm flying back to his side. He stepped back, ceasing his incessant chatter as he stared at you, a surprised expression painting his “pained” features. He wasn’t accustomed to you acting like this, you were never one to raise your voice or act out in any sort of way so he stood there, eyes widened in dumbfounded silence and you took this chance, bending down, scooping up as much of his discarded clothing as you possibly could and throwing it in his face, your rage bubbling over into something much more carnal as you inhaled deeply through your nose.

“Shut the fuck up and leave!” He scrambled to catch as many clothes as he could and was taken aback by your abrupt outburst. He stood silent once again though this time, he was making the face he often made when forcing himself to cry. It was the face he made around his mother to get out of family responsibilities. The face he made around his friends when guilt tripping them into buying him drinks, and now he's using it for you. To guilt you into taking pity on his pathetic actions which merely was the catalyst for your unforgiving violence. In an instant you were behind him, heaving him out of the door with your bare hands, pushing with all your might, using the immense pain coursing through your limbs as motivation to drive his beefy frame further and further out of the bedroom, down the hallway, into the living room and closer to the door yelling “I said leave! Leave! Now!” Pushing harder and harder with every word you choked out. The tears began to flow faster, clouding and distorting your vision as your face contorted into an expression of pure anguish until finally, he was forced out of the open doorway and into the main hallway of your apartment building. You promptly slammed the door in his face and the only thought traveling though your mind was ‘thank god she left that door open’ because you wouldn’t have been able to force him through it otherwise.

You stood silently for a few seconds, back to the door, face still slick with tears as the cool wood on your back shook senselessly with every beat of his fist and muffled shout of his voice crying phrases like “____ open the fuking door!” , “this is my apartment too baby come on” and other variations of the sort. Your mind was empty while you remained there, letting the harsh reality sink in like the slowest molasses. You allowed that man, that pig, to take 10 years of your life. 10 years of your prime. 10 years that you'll never get back no matter how much you beg and plead for it. Come to think of it, you had shaped your entire life around him. His influence was there no matter how much you wished it wasn’t. His residue staining your life like the blackest ink of which you would never be able to rid yourself. At the surfacing of these thoughts, you’d finally broke down and cried, like ugly cried. Broken heaves and sobs escaped your throat until you felt like you were suffocating as you slid down the door, not caring if he heard your wails and whines of torment on the other side of the polished mahogany. You actually hoped he did hear, you wanted him to hear the anguish and grief he put you through. You wanted him to hear you cry out all of your attachment and love for him until there was none left, so he knows the tears flowing from your body hold all of the affection you harbor for him. All ten years of attraction flowing out in a gigantic tsunami of grief that can only end in a new start.

Your mind played through all the memories, and the small amount of good times you had with each other while you sobbed mercilessly, also coming to the realization that he never did anything for you. Ever since you were 14 you’d been changing everything about yourself for him, while he merely lived his life, dragging you along like a supportive little puppy and rewarding you with cheap token gifts and mediocre sex once in a blue moon.

He wanted to attend university in your hometown so you abandoned your dream school, which accepted you, to attend a closer college. He made the decision to study abroad, so you had to drop everything and move to Australia for him. He wanted to wait to have kids so you froze your fucking eggs for him. He got a great new job at a large company in Asia, so you dropped everything again and moved to South Korea. You learned Korean for him. You have the same friends as him. You even cut a few family members off because he was “uncomfy” around them. He wouldn’t even go down on you because it also made him ‘uncomfy’, which should’ve been a red flag from the start. You did all of this bullshit in the haze of love. The promise that he’d reciprocate all of it in affection and adoration, which he didn’t, and now you’re sitting in your living room bawling your brains out because you were too lovestruck to see the signs.

After sobbing hysterically for what seemed like hours, you’d sat limply in front of your door, slouching back onto it as if it were a plush armchair and staring blankly into space, your mind completely empty. Feeling overwhelmed and exhausted beyond belief, you leaned forward, groaning in anguish as your tired muscles cried out in distress after being immobile for more than four hours. Crawling over to the couch, you tiredly flung your nearly paralyzed body onto the soft cushions with a sigh, not even bothering to pull the fluffy throw blanket over your body as your entire frame began to steadily shut down. Before your eyes completely shut, you caught a glimpse of the clock perched on the wooden tv stand which read 11:11 and scoffing quietly as you thought to yourself, ‘I thought that was supposed to mean good luck’ and you gave in to the delicious expanse of slumber.

You were startled awake by the incessant pounding of your now ex-boyfriends fist on the door, again. For the past 4 days since you’d forced him out, he’d show up outside your door at the ass crack of dawn just banging on the door profusely, as if that would persuade you to open it an inch. He had a schedule, he’d come at 5am, before he went off to work, then at 12:30 on his lunch break, then again at 9:45 just to make you miserable before you went to bed. You’re actually surprised the neighbors haven’t complained to the landlords yet. You tossed the blanket off of your sticky body, kicking and thrashing wildly due to the annoyance caused by that nuisance.

You cried more times than you can count during these last 4 days, especially during the times he would attempt to win you over with sappy shit like “baby, you’re my everything, you’re all i’ve ever wanted”, the lyrics to one of your favorite songs or, “you’re my forever ____, you can’t just throw 10 years away babe” to which you cried about for 3 hours after he’d said it, after realizing that he actually wasted 10 fucking years of your life. Anger bubbled up in the pit of your stomach as you listened to the repetitive banging of his fist and at this point you had enough and came to the decision it was finally time to pack his shit. Stomping into the living room, you grabbed a necessary box of bags that sat on the coffee table in the center of the room, figuring you were ready to use it. With a final nod of your head, you marched into your shared bedroom and opened all of the cabinets and drawers that contained the plethora of his belongings and flinging them on the floor, grabbing the box of xl trash bags you’d snagged on your march in here and started tossing things in left and right, not caring about the brand name or the state of the fabric or anything for that matter. All you saw was red as your eyes welled up with tears for the first and probably not last time that day.

“I can’t do this” you sobbed out, voice hoarse as you fell to your knees, ignoring the rugburn that was soon to form on those areas as your shoulders shook with every harsh breath you took. You had been dreading this task. Dreading it only for its significance that once you packed all his things and tossed them out, your relationship would be truly over. You definitely didn’t want him back but this would be the first time you’ve been alone in 10+ years and you were not certain you were prepared for that let alone wanting it. Inhaling shakily, you sniffed, ridding your face of any moisture as you cleared your throat and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of chardonnay from your anniversary that fell on the week prior and venturing back into the closet to resume your task. You weren’t much of a drinker but for this task, you’d need a bottle or two.

A few hours later, he’d finally went off to work and you sat in the doorway of the closet, drunkenly dressed in the wedding gown you were made to be wed in this summer still combing through all of his clothing and tossing them messily into a bag that laid open on the floor beside you. You took a swig from the bottle, hissing softly at the satisfying burn that seared it’s way down your throat and rubbing at your puffy eyes with the knuckle of your index finger. The closet was mostly bare, except for a rack with some of his clothes and one rack of semi-expensive clothing his cheap ass reluctantly purchased for you and you glanced around, catching a glimpse of some ugly floral fabric in the corner of the small space. Getting on your hands and knees you reached a limp hand out, taking hold of the horrendous fabric and dragging it out with a groan, eyes wide at the surprising heft of the object in your hand.

It was a pillowcase. A pillowcase full of something brick shaped. You raised an eyebrow quizzically before reaching into the bag and pulling out a fat stack of cash. Taking a sharp intake of breath you paused, staring blankly at the wrapped wad in your hand and cocking your head to the side. You peeked over into the bag after a few minutes, eyes popping out of your skull as they feasted on more huge stacks of money. It was Korean currency but there had to be at least 250k USD worth in the entire sack. You furrowed your brows, tossing the money back into the pillowcase forcefully as a tornado of thoughts whirled in your mind. Had he been saving behind your back? Was he planning on getting rich then eventually hanging you out to dry for some younger girl? How long has he had all of this? Where the fuck did it all come from?

You looked back at the money then back at the corner you found it in, squinting as you spotted some more ugly purple fabric. Crawling behind the clothing earnestly, you managed to fish out 4 more pillowcases full of money. You stifled a laugh, having never been in the presence of so much currency, you guessed it had to be more than 1 million dollars. You smiled for the first time in 4 days, lips curling up into a wide joy filled expression as you dumped all of the money onto the rugged floor of the closet. With all of the alcohol coursing through your veins, (almost a whole bottle) you didn’t hesitate to grab the biggest tote bag you own and stuff as much money as it could hold inside. You figured it was the least he could do after cheating on you.

He deserved to pay, and you obviously deserved a raise.

It was a full on shopping spree. After throwing all of his shit into bags, you tossed them outside your door and left with as much money as you could carry before he could come back on his lunch break. You even came back to get some more money, just to go out and spend it again. To say you splurged would be an understatement, you spent almost half of the money on clothes, shoes, a hair and makeup appointment, a manicure, a new car, and you even paid rent for six months after taking his name off the lease.

So here you were, struggling up the stairs as quick as you could, due to the fact that it was 9:30 and you were trying to avoid seeing him at his 9:45 visit. Your feet screamed in agony in your new jimmy choo pumps, because you’d been on them all day, and you had at least six shopping bags hanging from each arm, all full with an assortment of gaudy items such as shoe boxes, makeup products, and clothing. You had finally reached the door after a while, smiling at the absence of his bags which meant he took them and swiftly unlocked the door, clamoring in and tiredly dropping the bags in your hands. With a sigh, you locked the door, running a hand through your freshly styled hair as you rid your face of the designer sunglasses that shielded it. Kicking off your shoes, you hummed gratifyingly at the pleasurable feeling of bare feet and shuffled over to your couch, plopping down on the end cushion groggily.

A soft buzz in your back pocket caught your attention as you carefully fished out the new phone you purchased and unlocked it with your perfectly manicured fingers, raising an eyebrow quizzically as the texts rolled in, ‘i thought i blocked him’ you thought, preparing to do it a second time before a few texts caught your attention and you froze on the spot, chuckling heartlessly at his words.

+82 2 2263 5950 : whose car is in our parking spot?

+82 2 2263 5950 : did you already move on?

+82 2 2263 5950 : wow whore

You rolled your eyes, wondering where he attained the gaul to accuse you of a feat such as that. Calling you a whore as if that name isn’t suitable for himself. Even more so than you. You decided to text him back, feeding off of an unknown source of confidence as your fingers furiously tapped along the screen.

me : it’s my car asshole

me : bought it with the money u left me

me :thx baby <3

+82 2 2263 5950 : what money?

me : the money in the closet you didn’t bother telling me abt u dumb fuck

+82 2 2263 5950 : don’t use that money

me : why should i listen to you?

me : you aren’t my bf

+82 2 2263 5950 : no seriously ____ don’t use that money wtf is wrong with u

me : already did bye babe

You blocked him as quickly as you could, face burning with absolute anger as you tossed your phone on the cushion beside you. Who is he to tell you what you could or couldn’t do? You had come to the decision then and there that you wouldn't let him treat you like a child. He wasn’t your dad. Thanks to him you barely speak to your dad. The only thought going through your mind at the time was ‘fuck him.’ Before you could delve into your thoughts any further, it started. His incessant pounding on the door. Again. Although, this time it was much more frantic, desperate. He was much louder with his pathetic pleas and whines, crying out “please don’t use that money!”, “Listen to me god damn it!”, “___ open the fucking door now!” But you stood your ground, ignoring him once again as you did for the past few days.

Just to escape the racket of his wails of desperation, you retreated to your room, slipping on one of his expensive balenciaga sweatshirts you kept for yourself and climbing into the cool blankets, burying yourself under the plush fabric and folding your pillow over your ears. You knew this would be the longest night of your life..

And you were correct, It was the longest night of your life. He never truly got the memo that you would not be coming out to communicate with him so he finally left at around 1:30 in the morning. You had slept horribly, tossing and turning as the aftermath of his cries and pleads left a print on your mind and tormented you at all hours of the night, you didn’t manage to get any real sleep until around eight and woke up a mere five hours later in a state of confusion. It was well past noon and yet it was silent, you had woken up of your own volition, not because of some crazy man outside of your apartment screaming like a banshee. In due time, you had come to the conclusion that he had finally given up and gone about his day without banging on his ex-girlfriend's apartment door like an idiot at all hours of the day.

This theory was almost set in your mind until you heard a knock. Groaning violently, you stared up at your ceiling, eyebrows furrowed as you erased that theory from the whiteboard in your cortex. Fully prepared to ignore the person at the door, you rolled over to your side until another knock was heard. This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be him. The knocks were way too soft, they lacked an element of urgency, desperation. They were simply just way too calm. So, you sat up, swinging your legs over and reluctantly standing up, before making your way into the living room to be greeted with another knock and a smooth male voice calling out. “Miss ___ ___?”

You glanced wearily though your peep hole to be met with a tall male, dressed in a blue and white uniform. “Looks like a cop. He called the fucking cops on me, shit.” you whispered to yourself, voice small as you held onto the door handle. Figuring it’d be worse to make him wait, you opened the door, being met with the warm, dimpled smile, of the decorated individual. “Yes, i”m ____” you respond, shoving your hands into the pockets of your sweatshirt and looking everywhere but him, which probably seems more suspicious than anything but you were too riddled with anxiety to care. The officer clutched a navy blue manilla folder in his hand and opened it promptly in order to sift through its contents.

“Hi, i’m officer Kim.” he breathed out, calmly bowing and resuming his apparent spiel, “do you know this man?” he pondered, raising an eyebrow quizzically as he pulled a photo from his folder with calloused fingers and lifted it, spinning it around to face you. Your eyes widened slightly upon being shown a picture of your ex and you nodded hesitantly.

“He’s my ex boyfriend- well ex fiance I guess.” you responded, voice barely audible as your mind raced faster than the speed of sound. You asked yourself what he could’ve done that was bad enough for the police to show up at your door. Maybe you had been too harsh on him and he had gotten into one to many bar fights, maybe he robbed a bank at gunpoint, maybe he stole some old lady’s car and filled it with off brand mayonnaise before he returned it. All your questions- all your thoughts stopped as Officer Kim responded, running a tired hand through his hair.

“He passed, earlier today.” he paused, giving you time to digest things and you froze, staring at his face blankly as your mind processed what you had just been told and you hummed questioningly, your throat becoming tight with realization. “It happened around five this morning,” he paused again as you stood in complete silence. Sure you hated him but you’d never wish death upon another person, especially him. You hate him now but you were in love with him once too. You hate him now but, he was the closest person in your life. He was all of your firsts, your fiance, your best friend. You thought you wouldn’t be able to get all of that back because of the breakup but now you truly can never get any of it back, because he’s dead. Then, you started to cry, for the hundredth time this week but this one was different. You weren’t crying because you missed him, or wanted him to come back like all the other times, as horrible as it sounds. You were crying because you felt bad. Because of his short life that was ripped from him by the unforgiving hand of death. You weren’t crying because of him, you were crying for him. A hand on your shoulder interrupted your sobs and you wiped your face, glancing up at the culprit with glassy eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss...” he paused, giving you a few moments to breathe as he rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before speaking again, “but we have an idea of who did it, it would be helpful if you just came down to the station with me for some questioning.” he asked softly as the shaking sobs and whimpers that came from your body slowed to a halt and you nodded.

“Yeah, uh. Let me just go get dressed.” You muttered, smiling up at him softly and shuffling back to your room to prepare. The longest night of your life was about to turn into the longest day.

And you were correct again as you stood in front of your apartment door after the absolute, and I cannot stress this enough, longest day of your life. Your ex was murdered, brutally, and they made sure to go over all of the gory details with you while you were at the precinct, they even took you to see his body, which made you cry because it was mangled almost beyond recognition and you were horrified. Apparently, he had been tortured for hours, which explained all the bruises, gashes, and burn marks on his body, strangled, thus the huge ring shaped mark around his neck, and dumped into a river, which made his body all pruny and wrinkled. You had spent 10 long hours at the police precinct and it was now nearing midnight as you fished your keys from your pocket in order to unlock the door. Inserting your key, you jiggle it around in the lock for a minute before realizing it was already unlocked initially. Figuring you had left it unlocked accidentally in your depressed haze, you pushed your way into your apartment and locked it promptly, pressing your forehead into the cool wood of the door. You sighed softly, relaxing only for a minute as you absorbed your surroundings before freezing as you heard the rhythmic tapping of someone's foot.

“Long day huh?” the voice was deep, one you hadn’t heard before as you remained facing the door, your grip of the handle tightening until your knuckles turned white. He spoke again, “you must be ____.” he murmured softly, sending a terrified shudder down your spine. “I’ve been wanting to meet you but he said you were off limits. You know, he talks about you a lot-...” he stopped himself as if realizing something, “well talked, I mean.” the man mused, an ominous chuckle flowing from his mouth.

“Who are you?” you rasped, attempting to conceal any cowardice but blinking your eyes harshly as your voice broke. You vaguely hoped this was one of your ex’s friends coming to visit, at an odd hour of the night, sitting ominously in the dark of your apartment waiting for you to come home just to say hi but the chances of that actuality was very slim.

“None of your business” the man retorted, a smirk evident in his ominous tone. “Now, let’s get down to business little dove,” you furrowed your brows at the nickname. You had never been called a nickname, especially by a man who randomly just snuck into your apartment one night. Your ex only ever called you baby or babe so little dove was different for you. It seemed endearing in the worst type of way. “I want the rest of my money.” he paused, “I found half of it in a closet here, and he said you might know where the rest is.” he paused again, only this time a sound is heard, a metal rattling of some sort that ricochets off of the walls of the apartment like a stray jumping bean in a pill case. Then it hits you, he has a gun, and he just shook it as if he intends to use it. . “Don’t make me ask again sweetheart.” Your eyes widen and well up as your head falls down, knowing you're going to die today and you take a deep breath, telling yourself you’d be ready for whatever happens so you decide, if you’re gonna die, you should at least know the name of the man that’s gonna kill you so you scrape together every last drop of confidence you can muster and ask once more.

“I said, w-who are yo-” you choked out, in an attempt to hold onto the last shred of your dignity as you blinked back the tears threatening to fall from your glassy eyes. However, your small shred of confidence is promptly ripped from your grasp as the man cuts you off mid sentence, slamming his gun down onto a hard surface with a loud clatter. You jolt, crying out softly as the tears you’d been holding back with all your might fall onto the ground before you.

“I said none of your fucking business bitch where’s my fucking money.” he spat, his sinister tone draing a choked sob from your thoat as you realized, you wouldn’t be getting anything you wanted today. “Answer me” he said, alarmingly calm as the sound of him cocking his gun travels directly to your mind.

“I spent it” you muttered between your soft hiccups and stiffened slightly upon hearing a heavy footstep approach you, then another footstep, and another, and another until they cease, and you can feel the man's warm breath raising the hair on the back of your neck. All your readiness for whatever happens and willingness to die flies out of the window as you lean your head on the door once more, taking a shaky breath as you begin to plead, aware of how pathetic you sound and part of the reason why you have such a strong urge to cry harder. “Please don’t kill me” you whined desperately as you feel the cold metal of the gun barrel resting on your shoulder.

“Relax little dove” he whispered, his lips brushing the back of your ear and sending a chill rushing through the entire expanse of your body. “Just find a way to pay me back and we’re even,” he continued calmly, his raspy voice reverberating in your eardrums as you think through what he just said carefully. You gasp and sniffle, shaking your head softly and lifting it slowly from the wooden door frame.

“I-” you stopped, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself as much as you could for his response then opened your mouth to continue. “I don’t have that kind of money” you whispered hesitantly, shutting your eyes tightly, allowing nothing to escape but the numerous tears that fell to the ground in anticipation of his actions. There was an eerie silence as he contemplated your words before he abruptly turned away, lifting the gun from your shoulder and holstering it in the waistband of his jeans, causing you to let out a wavering breath you’d been holding that entire time. His hand traveled back up, taking refuge on your left shoulder as the other hand made its way up your right arm, the warmth setting your skin aflame and sending a shockwave of warmth coursing through your body.

“There is another way you could pay me back.” his velvet voice rasped, stressing the word ‘another’ in a way that you immediately understood his insinuation and you took a sharp intake of air, bracing yourself for what he was about to say next. But he didn’t say anything for a moment, letting his hands do the talking for him as he gripped your arms softly, using his hands to spin you around and face him. You whirled around, yelping in surprise but stopping when you were met with the most exquisite, carnivorous brown eyes you had ever seen in your life that were accompanied by full pink lips and a tousled bunch of fluffy black hair you just wanted to run your hands through. Even in the darkness of night, the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window illuminated the room enough for you to trail your eyes down his face and get a vivid idea of what he’d look like with illumination.

Yummy as fuck.

Your eyes began to wander down to his exposed collarbone and before they could travel any lower, his fingers roughly grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze upward until you met his borderline cannibalistic gaze, which crushed you into nothing. He cocked his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes as the corner of his lips turn upward slightly. “He was always bragging about you… saying,” he speaks, his sultry tone lulling you into a state of compliance as he spoke, “you’re such a good fuck,” he continues, placing his left hand gently on your waist and stepping even closer, if that’s possible, his soft breath hitting your face with every word as he speaks. “Your sweet little cunt is so tight” he glances down at your lips, running his thumb over your bottom lip “your mouth feels like heaven” he pauses again, running his hand down to hold the side of your neck softly to which you gasp “maybe i’d like a demonstration little dove.” he smiles, a twisted horrifying smile that snaps you out of his seductive trance and back to reality as your eyes widen and you pull yourself quickly out of his hold, running over to the couch and bracing yourself on it.

“No” you cry out, out of breath for some reason as you swallow thickly and shake your head. “No, I'll find a way to pay you back, I promise.” you plead, praying he wasn’t going to kill you on the spot and that he hadn’t noticed your blatant ogling. He probably did but at this point you didn’t care, you just wanted him gone.

“Whatever you say sweetheart” he replied, emitting a dark chuckle “call me if you change your mind, my number’s in your phone” he opened the front door and you glanced back at him, noticing the way his all black attire contrasts with his tan skin, and most of all, you notice the full sleeve of tattoos that ran down his right arm. Heat crawled up to your face as you realized you were gawking again and you nodded in response, feeling unable to form the words to respond with. He only uttered the words “you have a week.” before the door slammed and you were left alone in the dark.

You ran your fingers along the side of your neck where the aftermath of his touch lingered like a searing residue. No one had ever touched you like that, especially your ex. He was the man that took your virginity and was the man there for every time after so you’d become accustomed to his textbook missionary vanilla sex that left you touch starved and unfinished every. single. time. But you’d finish yourself off each time, feeling bad because you thought he was trying his hardest and truly didn’t understand how to please women. But as time went on, you realized he didn’t care about your pleasure and too enveloped in his own release to ever worry about your needs, but were too deep in love with him to care.

Your thoughts were interrupted when your phone went off to signal a text and upon picking it up there were two text messages from an unknown number that sent a shiver down your spine which read.

+82 2 5284 8735 : don’t try to run

+82 2 5284 8735 : we’ll hunt you down little dove

“Can’t you just take the shit back?” You questioned frantically, clutching the phone by your head until your knuckles turned white, rolling your eyes tiredly when you got no response. “They hung up, great” you deadpanned, plopping onto the couch you had been pacing in front of. It has been 6 days since the man showed up and you were running out of time and hadn’t slept in two days, your mind running frantically with the thought of him coming back to see you nearly empty handed. Well, not exactly empty handed. You had managed to get 253k of the whopping +400k dollars you had spent of his money and after not being able to return the car, manicure, hair appointment, rent, and a bunch of clothes and shoes, you were manic. Some might even say a bit crazy. Many of the stores and the dealership knew you by name because of the amount of times you called them. You dropped your phone into your lap, burying your face in your hands and wishing someone was here to console you through this but the only person you knew even remotely enough to offer any consolation was your ex. You wish he was alive so you could punch that bitch in the face and ask him what kind of shit he got himself into because the man that paid you a visit was most definitely not from corporate.

You sat for a silent minute deliberating if you should text the mystery man and take him up on his offer. You had asked yourself, is it really worth your life? Were you really going to die because you didn’t want to sleep with the hot guy you stole money from? The answer at first was yes because you still had your pride intact then but now, you had been starting to second guess your confidence in getting all the money back. After all, the deadline is tomorrow. You still had your hesitations, the only man who has ever seen you in such a lewd nature was your ex. You didn’t know if you were ready for sex with another person, even if he was the hottest man you’d ever seen. But, against your better nature, you convinced yourself that your ex was gone and this was bound to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner?

You grabbed your phone in earnest before anything inside you could convince you to stop and unlocked it, opening the messages for his number and typing out your text, hitting send before any sort of regret had the chance to sink in.

me : i’ll take your offer

me : this is ____ btw

You placed your phone down on the couch cushions beside you and chewed nervously on the not so fresh manicure that was still on your nails. To your surprise, his reply came in quickly and you frantically reached for your phone as the dings came rolling in.

+82 2 5284 8735 : i know who you are

+82 2 5284 8735 : i'll be there in 20

+82 2 5284 8735 : be ready sweetheart

Your heart thumped restlessly as you shot up from your seat shouting “twenty minutes?!” and you cried out nervously. You hadn’t even seen his face in good lighting and you didn't know his name so you’d basically be fucking a complete stranger which scared you enough as it is but the fact that that stranger held you at gunpoint merely a week prior is what scared you shitless.

In the limited time that he gave you, you decided to freshen up a bit so you hopped in the shower. Your first shower in a few days after your psychotic state worsened. Humming in bliss, you relished in the feeling of the scalding water flowing over your skin as you took your time washing , shaving, and singing, in an attempt to rid yourself of the horrendous nerves that overtook your senses. After reluctantly stepping out of the steamy oasis, you’d decided on a white lingerie set you had gotten yourself for christmas but never got to wear for anyone because your significant other was always “working” or too tired/busy to take the time of day for you. Pairing the set with a matching white silk robe and not bothering to wear any shoes because you’re in your own house, you slicked your lips in a thick coat of gloss and applied some mascara and eyeliner to your tired eyes just to spruce up a bit. You figured, if you put effort into your appearance, then maybe he’d spare your life after the sex. You stared at yourself in the mirror, tying your robe, smacking your glossed lips together and ogling your appearance before a soft knocking was heard from the living room. “He’s here” you told yourself with a deep shaky breath as you vacated the bathroom and slowly ventured toward the door.

You stood silently before the front door, contemplating whether this was a mistake or if it was too late to turn back. As much as you hated to admit, there was no logical solution to your problem that was in compliance with any standing laws. Heck, what you were doing was probably illegal in everywhere but Las Vegas so you had no other choice than to twist the handle, open the door and stare up at the most alluring man you had ever laid eyes on. You ran your eyes all over his body, studying him, his features, his gorgeous eyes, impeccable nose, plush lips, smooth hair, and strong arms that lead to a presumed strong chest hidden under his plain white tee. He noticed you blatantly checking him out to which he placed a finger on your chin, lifting your face up so your eyes met and making you watch as he rolled his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment. Oh how you wished that was your lip.

“You ready little dove?” he asked, his tone seductive and smooth like chocolate as he walked closer to you, closing the door behind him and backing you up until you stood patiently before the couch staring up at him, a wistful glint in your eyes as you nodded. He reached up, using a finger to push your robe off of your right shoulder and cocking his head quizzically. “All dressed up just for me?” he pondered, his eyes trained on the white lace peeking out from under the robe. You nodded, to which he gripped your chin roughly, furrowing his eyebrows at your response. “Use your words sweetheart” he warned, loosening his grip so you could speak in affirmation.

“Yes…” your voice trailed off, thinking of what to call him, as you still didn’t know his name, so you addressed him as you would any man you didn’t know, “yes, sir. I dressed up just for you” you concluded, your voice barely greater than a whisper as the corners of his lips turned up. He let out an animalistic growl at the name you gave for him, obviously satisfied and moved his hand from your chin to grip the back of your neck promptly.

“It’s Jungkook, but sir will do nicely” he basically growled before latching onto your lips with carnal aggressiveness. You whined heartily into his mouth as his tongue slipped deftly into yours and intertwined with yours, causing your mind to fall into a haze as he coiled his arm around your waist, bringing your body flush against his toned frame. You reached up with shaky hands, fumbling with his shirt, eager to get it off of him and gaze upon the expanse of his abdomen. His lips detached for a moment, giving you the chance to pull his shirt over his head, which he gladly obliged and lifted his hands over his head, swiftly resuming their positions when his shirt formed a pile on the floor beside you. You leaned back in, attempting to capture his lips in another phenomenal kiss but he pulled back, leaving you to chase him and whine when you ultimately lose, to which he laughs mischievously, taking his hands off of your body and toying with the silk tie on the front of your robe.

“How do you want it baby?” he pondered, the new nickname sending shivers down your spine as you glanced at him quizzically, as if asking what he meant. He chuckled softly, tugging at the ribbon and opening your robe as he brought his hands up, carefully sliding it down your arms and bending down so his face was level with your collarbone. He placed a gentle kiss there, leaving fire in the wake of his lips as he spoke, his breath cooling the seared flesh, “would you like me to be gentle?” he asked leaving more hot kisses along the expanse of your shoulder and neck, drawing salacious sounds from your parted lips as he brought his hand up to rest at the base of your neck. “Or…” he paused, sliding his hand up and increasing the intensity of his grip on your throat, restricting the blood flow to your brain as your mind became hazy and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “Do you want me to be rough?” he continued, lifting his head to watch your face as he loosened his grip. “It’s your choice little dove.”

You were elated, ecstatic and a little disappointed when he loosened his grip on your neck. Your ex was always into sex that lindered toward the vanilla side, as mentioned before, so he would never think to try anything like choking, which always intrigued you just a little bit. You wished you would have experienced other styles of love before you met him but you didn't, and this was your chance to try them out now. Your fingers travelled up, lightly grazing over that hand that was tightly wrapped around your neck. Whining quietly you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, biting it softly as your other hand came up and wrapped around Jungkook’s forearm.

“I wanna try it rough” you mumbled, eyes closing as you relished in the hazy feeling this restriction gave you which only heightened as he tightened his grip.

“Perfect.” he groaned out almost inaudibly as he pulled your face to his, colliding your lips in the roughest, most passion filled kiss you’d ever experienced. He devoured your mouth with gluttonous amusement, his grip on your airway never wavering for a moment as he tongued you down, his carnal need prevalent and present in the thick air of the room. You reached up, completing a task you’d been wanting to do for days, tangling your hand in the messy black mass that fell upon his head, and relishing in the soft feeling of his waves. Then he detached from your lips and moved away, forcing your hands to fall from his hair and onto his broad shoulders, which, while pleasurable to touch, didn’t even come close to frolicking your fingers through his locks. He moved his hand from your neck to your shoulder, to which you whined with a small pout, missing the new contact as he chuckled at your eagerness. He stared at your lips, before leaning down and capturing your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on it voraciously before he spoke. “Do you want me to put this slutty little mouth of yours to use little dove?” he asked, pulling back as if waiting for an answer, to which you obliged.

“Yes sir” You answered quite honestly in fact, as you felt all your hesitation and weariness about this task slip away. “Please put my mouth to use.” you pleaded, staring up at him, a wanton expression on your soft features.

“You’re so good for me .” he whispered, his soft breath fanning your face as you nodded in agreement, “such an obedient little dove, hmm?” he asked, to which you nodded once again, a bit more frantically this time as you awaited his cue. He used the hand on your shoulder to abruptly push you down with a small yelp so you were seated on the black leather couch behind you, the colder leather contrasting the burning lust in your entire body as you looked up at him. “Get to work slut.” Your eyes widened at the name. Maybe it was supposed to be an insult or he just liked calling you that but you couldn’t help the gargantuan wave of slick that coated your panties at the moment.

You looked down, a bit above eye level with his crotch as you reached up to palm him through his faded blue jeans. His scent was tantalizing, musky, and you couldn't get enough as you stared up at him through your eyelashes, your lips slightly parted as you gazed in awe. He gave you a warning glance, as if scolding you for teasing him for this long and you unzipped his pants. He held out his hand, as if to stop you before reaching behind his pants and pulling his gun from the back of his jeans. Your eyes widened, gaze now trained on the firearm in his hand, a horrified expression on your face as you ceased all actions. Which he noticed, peering down at you, a horrifying smile etched on his godlike features as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Relax darling, I won’t kill you,” he purred, reaching down and weaving the fingers of his free hand into the roots of your hair, grabbing and pulling back roughly so you have no other choice but to meet his dark eyes. “We’re only just getting started.” he lowered the gun, pressing the muzzle into the underside of your jaw, the cold metal like ice against your scalding skin. However, you felt no need to cry, felt no need to fear for your life even as this gun was pressed to your neck, aimed to kill, because you knew he wouldn’t do it. Through the dark facade and ominous gaze in his eyes there was something else that made you trust his inability to kill you. You realized you were enjoying the thrill, the excitement of putting your life in his hands. So, you did what any crazy bitch would do in this situation, you breathed out deeply, relaxing your shoulders and slouching yourself down to push your neck further onto the tip of the gun with a mischievous smile. Jungkook stared down at you in awe, running his tongue on the inside of his cheek and taking his gun off of your neck before tossing it over to the end of the couch behind you.

Resuming your actions with a shaky breath, you tugged his pants down until they fell to his ankles and placed your hands on the sides of his underwear clad hips. You might’ve been inexperienced in his style of fucking but you sure knew how to give a good blowjob, so you got to work, placing open mouthed kisses to his clothed appendage. You looked up at him once more seeing the lust clouded haze that filled his deep brown eyes. After a bit of teasing, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down in a seductively slow manner as you allowed his needy cock to spring free, and you stared up at it with a gasp.

It was huge.

You didn’t really know what qualifies as huge because the only dick you’ve ever had was around 6 inches on a good day but this alluring appendage swinging before your face had to be at least 9 inches long and you wondered how the fuck you were going to fit it all in your mouth let alone your pussy, which was already aching for it. Your mouth involuntarily opened wider in anticipation of his delicious dick inside and you grabbed the base, with two hands, drawing a hiss from the man that stood over you as he kicked off his shoes and the rest of the clothing that pooled around his feet. You licked teasingly up the sides of his dick, stopping at the tip to swirl your tongue around it, and catching some salty precum when you did. You glanced up at him and he looked absolutely furious in the best sort of way. Frustrated to the max as you teased him mercilessly, only spending meere fleeting moments at the spots which needed the most attention.

Then he snapped, taking you by surprise and using his hand that was still tangled in your hair to hold you still while he shoved his cock in your mouth. You tried to gasp but it merely came out as a small strangled whimper that was cut off as his length reached that back of your throat. You moved your hands to the sides of his hips once again, bracing yourself as he slowly pulled his member out of your mouth, most likely winding up for another thrust. He propelled his hips forward once again, stuffing not nearly all of his cock into your mouth, as his tip grazed the back of your throat. The feeling of him completely filling your mouth had you livid, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you moaned, the vibrations reverberating onto his appendage which drew a salacious moan from his plush parted pink lips.

“Fuck, your mouth feels like heaven.” he moaned out, then he started to fuck your face, tears pooling in your eyes while his dick basically hit the back of your throat with every harsh stroke of his hips as he gripped on your hair tighter. After one particularly hard thrust, he held his length down your throat as tears rolled down your cheeks and you gagged around him. He took his cock out of your mouth, to which you gasped, swallowing the spit that pooled in your mouth with an aroused groan.

“Tastes so good.” you mumbled, not possibly being able to get enough as he shoved his cock back into your mouth and fucked your throat relentlessly. The tension building in you was too much to bear and your need to cum only heightened as his actions resumed. You arched your back slightly, pushing your clothed clit into the black leather cushions of the couch as you gyrated into it slowly, praying he wouldn’t notice and would be too invested in fucking your throat to realize.

You were wrong. He noticed immediately.

He halted all movements, taking his cock from your throat and grabbing your neck harshly, to which you gasped, whimpering as he pulled you up to stand in front of him, cock slapping the front of your body as you stared at his face in anticipation of his actions. You could imagine what you looked like right now swollen glossy lips, and tear stains running down your face because you didn’t bother to wear your waterproof mascara. You never needed it any other time so you figured why would you need it now. Oh how wrong you were.

“Dirty little dove, trying to get off on the couch because you want me that bad?” he rasped, nearing closer to your face with each word and you nodded frantically, basically begging him to do something, anything. “Words” he barked, drawing a cry from your lips as you thought of what to say.

“I want your cock, please sir.” you begged, before he groaned hungrily and captured your lips in a ravenous kiss, taking you by surprise. No one had ever kissed you after they’d fucked your throat before so why would he do it. You didn’t dwell on that thought for too long before melting into his touch and wrapping your arms around his neck. Jungkook took his free hand, trailing it around your body to unclasp the back of your bra, your eyes going wide at the skillful ease of his fingers. He snatched the white lace clothing off of your frame, tossing it to the other side of the room and reaching back up to cup one of your soft breasts in his hand, flicking the nipple with his index finger and making you sigh satisfactorily into his mouth. He leaned forward, taking you with him as he lowered both of you back onto the couch, settling himself between your newly opened legs and never breaking the kiss. He unlatched his hand from your neck, trailing it down your body as the other hand continued to knead your breast skillfully. His burning touch slowly ventured further and further down your abdomen until he reached the band of your panties and abruptly tore the thin while lace from your body to your dismay and discarding it on the floor beside him. You whined sadly, as those had been your favorite pair of underwear but barely had any sort of time to grieve as you felt two rough fingers dip into the wetness of your slit, trailing them up and stopping right over the spot you needed him to be at, pulling a moan from your still swollen lips.

He began kissing a trail down your body, stopping for a mere moment to suck on the pert bud of your free breast before resuming his path of destruction. He moved his hands to settle on the inner sides of your thighs, spreading them apart and sighing as he got a glimpse of the treasure between them. Your eyes widened upon realizing his destination as you scooched away, holding a handful of his tousled black hair in an attempt to grab his attention.

“I-…” you paused, chewing on your bottom lip and thinking of how to word your statement. “i’ve never asked anyone to do that for me before, so y- you don’t have to do it.” you stuttered wearily as the nerves set in. No one’s face had ever been remotely close to your womanhood and the thought of it sent a chill down your spine as you released his hair from your grasp. You wondered what it would even be like. He glanced up at you, eyes dilated as he chuckled, a dark chuckle that made you shiver as he tightened his grip on your thighs, yanking you closer to his face and taking a deep drag of your scent once you were close enough.

“Oh baby I want to” he basically moaned out, licking his lips and glancing down at your glistening slit, the corners of his lips turning up in a hungry smile. You raised an eyebrow, asking yourself ‘why the fuck would he want to do that?’, and ‘isn’t this for my pleasure?’, but all your concerns were answered once he spoke again. “I can’t wait to make you writhe on my tongue little dove” he muttered, causing your cheeks to burn with the intensity of a thousand suns as he talked into your soaking entrance. “... make you beg and cry without even using my cock.” he continued, releasing your left thigh from his grip as he placed a hand on your pubic mound, lowering his thumb and slowly beginning to circle your clit eliciting a loud wail from you. “You think, if I had the power to turn you into a messy little whore all for me just by using my mouth, I wouldn’t use it at any chance I could?” He asked and you whined, nodding as your hips stuttered up in desperate need of more friction. “It’s all about power baby, and I have it all here” he groaned, watching you clench pathetic around nothing.

Then, he finally gave you what you wanted. His hand resumed its grip on your thigh, forcing it away from the other as his thumb was swiftly replaced by his warm tongue licking up and down your wet sex. You moaned, placing your shaky hands on the mounds of your chest, toying with your nipples just to add to the pleasurable sensations he was creating with his tongue. This feeling was unlike any ecstasy you had ever felt and you never wanted it to stop. His tongue slipped deftly into your soaked entrance twisting and turning skillfully as you keened loudly. His warm wet appendage swirling around your wet cavern was the best feeling in the entire world and you knew if he continued ravaging you at this pace, you’d cum in no time. But, you needed this release. You needed to let go of all this pent up sexual frustration you didn’t even know you harbored. You needed to experience your first orgasm in months, if not years, that wasn’t self inflicted and you hoped and prayed with all your heart that it would come soon.

He switched his focus,, moving his tongue up to play with your aching clit and slipping two fingers into your formerly empty hole with a deep groan that reverberated through your core like a powerful vibrator which only intensified your moans and cries of pleasure. You looked down on yourself to see the delicious sight of him devouring your cunt ruthlessly, the sight alone almost tipping you over the edge as you brought your hands up, covering your eyes while you neared completion.

“Jungkook you’re gonna make me cum.” you called out, an exasperated cry leaving your lips when your impending orgasm was painfully ripped away from you as all his motion stopped. You uncovered your eyes, about to stare down when your body jolted, a harsh sting being felt directly on your clit, sending a wave of warmth barreling through your entire body. Then you understood, he slapped you, and you peered down at him, your eyes glassy due to the orgasm that was ripped from your grasp.

“Who? said you can cum.” he deadpanned menacingly, staring up at you through hooded eyes as you leaned your head back tiredly, realizing the error in your words and prepared to beg, just like he said you would.

“Sir” you cried, holding your arms limply over your head as you continued to plead. “Sir please, please make me cum.” you begged mercilessly, a tear of relief sliding down your cheek as he resumed his assault on your core, attacking at a steady pace and retrieving the all too familiar knot that formed in the pit of your stomach. You reached up, grabbing the edge of the couch with an iron grip, your knuckles turning white as your hips began circling on his face, your clit rubbing against his tongue with every movement and venturing you closer to your sweet release.”Please don’t stop sir, oh my god” you whined loudly, fucking his face relentlessly as you chased your high, nearing it more and more with each thrust of your hips until he finally pushed you off the brink of ecstasy, a scream leaving your lips as Jungkook continued his unrelenting attack on your pained pussy.

You rode out your high, writhing and panting before him, his pace never faltering, his fingers never slowing, his tongue never relenting and it soon became too much. The euphoric delirium quickly turned into madness as you barreled down the path into overstimulation. You wailed pathetically, thrashing under his hold as the pleasurable pain consumed your body and you could barely form a coherent sentence but you persevered, scraping all the coherent thoughts you could muster and turning them into tangible words that sat on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spoken. “Sir please, it's too much!” you cried to which Jungkook finally let up, slowing his pace to a halt and sitting back.

“Oh my god that was so fucking hot” he growled before sucking on his glossy fingers and cleaning around his mouth with his skilled tongue as he gazed amusedly upon your exhausted body. But he was nowhere near done with you. This fact made apparent when he stood and wrapped an arm around your hip, lifting your limp body and turning you over with ease, positioning you so your face was pressed into the now warm couch cushion and your ass was raised high into the air before him. His eyes rolled at the view of your swollen cunt bent over for him and he gave it a light smack, eliciting a pained, but tired yelp from you as he chuckled muttering “you’re going to drive me crazy little dove.” under his breath.

He crouched down, coming face to lips with your abused cunt as he wrapped his arms around your bent bottom, lacing his fingers together as they rested at the arch of your back and dragging his nose up the tortured path of your slit, drawing whines and cries of overstimulation from your wiggling frame as you tried to get away from the punishing menace that was his face. “No, please. I can't take anymore, it's too much.” You whimpered, your voice muffled as you leaned your face into the couch tiredly to which he obliged, reluctantly, as he stood, grabbing his neglected dick in hand and pointing it toward your pink entrance.

“I can’t wait to stretch your pretty little pussy ____.” he purred and you moaned at the sound of your name slipping off of his tongue like the creamiest butter. He dragged his tip along your swollen clit, abusing it again for what seemed like the millionth time that day as he covered his girth in your slick, a guttural groan emitting from the back of his throat. Then, abruptly, he sunk into your slippery cavern, barely all the way in but you’d never felt so full in your entire life as he pushed forward slowly, filling you up and providing you with the most delicious stretch you’d ever felt. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you whined, a desperate whine that you could barely register was your own voice as he pushed his length completely inside of you, his head falling back and your name, rolling off of his tongue once again.

After barely giving you time to adjust to his alarming size, he reeled his hips back before slamming into you again, and again, and again, over and over again until he was fucking you at an unrelenting speed you barely knew was possible to achieve. Suffering from the overwhelming pleasure he forced you to endure, you shut your eyes tight, crying out in strangled indulgence as you grasped onto the fluffy throw blanket strewn lazily over the couch in front of you. You relished in the sting of his girth, staring ahead blankly with glassy eyes as he rammed into you with a punishing speed and black mascara filled tears streamed down your cheeks.

You knew you were about to cum soon, again, only due to the all too familiar feeling accumulating in the pit of your belly. Jungkook reached down, placing a hand on your shoulder blade and pressing your chest further into the couch while he drilled into you, moaning and cursing at the feeling of you flexing deliciously around his cock. He felt you were close, so he moved his hand, snaking it around your waist and trailing his other hand to assume its position around your neck, hoisting you up so your back was arched against his abdomen and you had no choice but to stare up at him as he talked down on you, never slowing the snapping of his hips for a wavering moment.

“You’ve never been fucked this good have you?” he teased through clenched teeth as he leaned down, sucking and marking all over the expanse of your neck with grunts and growls of pleasure. You were way too fucked out to even think about the words to form a coherent sentence, barely being able to form whimpered versions of ‘mhm’ after he questioned you but he was having none of that. He unraveled his hand from your waist, tightening his grip on your throat and landing a hard slap to your left asscheek, drawing a shrill shriek from the depths of your throat as he warned in your ear. “Words little dove” he slapped you again, “how many times do I have to fucking warn you.” he concluded, landing another harsh smack to your abused flesh as you whimpered.

“You’re the best I’ve ever had, I’m such a slut for you sir.” You sobbed out, “please let me cum, please fuck” you whined, drawing out your words and you reached back, tangling both hands in his unruly mop of hair as he split you open, moaning directly in your ear which in itself, was a thing that could make you cum on the spot.

“Cum then.” He said obviously, as if it was the most simple response, only it was this simple command that shoved you off the precipice of ecstasy for a second time. The feeling that bloomed deep in your stomach soon blossomed into a full blown orgasm that racked through your body quickly, leaving nothing but white hot pleasure in its wake as your legs trembled viciously, with one last loud cry of Jungkook’s name. But, he still did not falter, his pace quickening as he neared his own climax, the speed both too much and not nearly enough at the same time. You reached back, attempting to push him and escape the all consuming pleasure torturing your body like a blazing fire but your hands were caught quickly by Jungkook’s hands which crossed them tightly and held them behind your back, resuming his attack.

You shook your head, letting it hang as your tears fell freely onto the couch before you, his moans and groans of ecstasy increasing in volume and frequency as he neared his own climax, his hips faltering in their pace for the first time in a while as he worked to his own release. In what seemed like an instant, he released the most beautiful, salacious, strangled moan you had ever heard, pulling himself out of your soaked cunt, and painting the surface of your ass with his white hot ropes of cum. He finally let you go after a moment, watching as you fell limply to the couch, laying face down, panting exhaustively, your arms still crossed limply behind your back as he smirked down at your fucked out frame. He left you alone for just a bit, coming back but a few moments later before you felt the sore skin of your asscheeks being wiped off with what felt like a warm hand towel. You were relieved he had the respect to clean his mess, it made you respect him just a little bit more as a person but you were way too tired to dwell on the subject any longer.

“You did so good for me little dove” he cooed, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it as he placed a sweet chaste kiss on your lower back, caressing his hand up the side of your body. A simple touch that lacked any sort of sexual aspects, it felt comforting and you sighed, leaning further into the soft couch as you heard him begin to put his clothing on. You felt a pang of distress, seeing as you were more of a fuck and cuddle kind of girl, but you really hadn’t expected him to stay so why’d you feel the need to ask him to. Pushing the feeling deep inside your gut, you sighed deeply as he walked in front of you to bend forward and grab his gun that laid discarded on the opposite side of your couch, also grabbing the throw blanket beside it and tossing it over your naked frame before thinking about something. “So,” he started, tucking his gun in the back of his pants and humming, “I’m thinking that was worth about, hmm 50k” he started. You vaguely understood what he was saying and knew you’d flip out once you were conscious enough to truly comprehend his words. “I’ll keep in touch.” He said, pulling his shirt down and smiling deviously at you as you uttered a hoarse ‘huh?’ To which he answered simply, “if I wanna come collect some more money” and he spun on his heels, opening your door and sauntering out of the threshold.

When he got into the hallway, Jungkook burst into a wide smile, satisfied with the encounter he made today. He entered this agreement fully prepared to either fuck you once and take the money you’d earned back or just fuck you and kill you, but once he’d had a taste, he was insatiable. You were flawless, your compliance was impeccable. The way you obeyed him, begged for him, the way you tasted, the way you felt, the way you looked. There was no way he could ever get enough and is probably the reason he kept overstimulating you like a frat boy with a bruised ego. There was no way he was gonna just let go of an absolute gem like you, so he made his excuse, a plan. Everytime you fuck him, you pay back a portion of the money. He was so tempted to tell you this session was only worth $100 just as an excuse to come back over and over and over until he had his fill, but he kept his composure, giving you hope that you’d ever be free of his grasp. Jungkook for once was extremely ecstatic, elated, excited to ruin you even more than he already had and he was dead set on making you want him just as much as he craved you no matter what it took. Though he was pretty sure you already did.

[hyunsuks-beanie]

Knight

Pairing: Minho x gn. reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 0.55k words

Mellow speaks: Minho is here to be everyone's dark knight!! Hope you guys enjoy haha, especially 🫒nonnie!!

Tagging: @freckledwinterfalls

Riding on a white horse,

Heading to save you,

Who's trapped in the darkness

To the world, Lee Minho appears to be a rude, narcissistic man who loves having people fawn over him. He knows he's talented, he knows he's good-looking, why would he spare so much as a glance at anyone apart from his own reflection, right?

But you're the only one who knows just how wrong this perception is. Because in your heart, you hold the memories of all the times Lee Minho has saved you, in more ways than one.

I'm your dark knight,

I can skilfully defeat,

The monsters in your dreams

He's your knight. Sure, maybe he doesn't have a shining armor, but who likes mainstream anyway? He's your dark knight, out to save you from all your demons, be it the monsters under your bed, or that ex-boyfriend who broke your heart.

He might never get the chance to save you from a tower high up in the mountains, but you can bet that he'll always find a way to protect you from the dangers that lurk behind dorm doors and drunken glasses.

One might think it's just your casual young love, given the way the two of you seem to be fooling around every living second. But what they'll never know is that every time you've found yourself be overwhelmed, be it because of overflowing emotions or a killing numbness, he's been there.

He's been there, his form galloping in on a white horse, the prettiest you've ever seen, from the depths of the dark, his hand outstretched for you to take. When you're with him, you can finally sleep peacefully, your fears at bay as long as you're in his embrace.

He's the one who saved you, and he's the one who always saves you. That's what you say to anyone who asks, blissfully oblivious of how he utters the exact same words whenever he talks about you, little stars dancing in his eyes.

I have slight much if a fear,

But look,

I'm pushing my way through the dark woods

He's scared too, of course he is. He's got stuff he'd rather hide in the darkest parts of his heart, because everyone does. But when he's with you, he feels himself grow stronger, his heart full of the need to protect you.

He's always been popular, and while he does enjoy the attention, what he dislikes is the amount of negative attention that comes along with it. The ugly rumors that make him want to roll his eyes and gag at how mean people's imagination can be.

But you. You're the only one who sees him for who he is, the only one who is willing to look past the rumors and actually get to know him. The real him. That's what makes him adore you, makes him fall even harder in love with you.

Baby don't worry,

You'll be safe beside me

And even though you'd think he would see it as a hassle, that's really not the case. Because he's willing to do anything, even if it means making a fool of himself, if it's for you.

And so, even though you know he's your knight, even though you know you sleep better when sharing a bed with him, in reality, you're just as much as his knight as he's yours.

[ignisnocturnalia]

I think I've figured out how I want to write these (Exposition/mini story, when relationship is established HCs actually start) based on a previous statement I made, also ANOTHER REQUEST! All headcanons are placed at the back of the story part. Let's get this ball rolling!

Crow x Reader

"Now, if he ever flies too far from the nest?" Spider leans forward, "Boom." Your stomach made a flip at the kingpin's explanation, and you've never been more uncomfortable to have your Ghost out in the open. Some part of your mind is saying 'Who cares? That's the man that killed Cayde', but another half is saying 'He has no idea. It isn't fair to judge him for something he can't remember'.

That meeting had happened an hour ago and you couldn't get his dumb gray face out of your head. He looked so.. sad. Regardless, having a Ghost rigged with explosives did not sit right with you at all. Spider wanted you to help him with his Wrathborn problem? Sure, alright. When all of this was over, you knew exactly what you wanted your payment to be.

One large change about the new light that you've found impossible to ignore is diminutive he is. His commentary after successful hunts and small chats after a lure upgrade is administered are curt. Even more surprising is his willingness to present mercy to the corrupted Fallen. He is nothing like Uldren.

Acknowledging this division between his past and present self is when you start to realize that you like working with him. A lot. Probably more than just work, but will you admit it? No. Besides, you tell yourself, he really doesn't look like he's searching for a relationship while figuring himself out.

Petra often asks why you've taken to visiting the Tangled Shore so frequently now, and everytime you scramble to spit out an answer, something stupid like "Spider has a good deal running right now". In some part, it's true, since when you're not hunting Wrathborn you're showing Crow how to do Guardian stuff and explaining Last City life to him. His calm and curious demeanor is extremely cute, and the velvet sound of his voice does not help.

When Spider has both of you run point on a mission you always look to the rafters of the building to try and see him or listen for his steps. He's annoyingly good at stealth. The only time you ever had to be stealthy was in the Gorgon's lair and the Pleasure Gardens. You wish you could speak to him unfiltered; if Spider ever discovered your crush he wouldn't let you hear or see the end of it.

As the months dragged on and you came closer to catching the High Celebrant, you caught yourself anxiously wondering what lie at the end of it all. What if Spider didn't let you take him? And if he did, would Crow stay with you or do his own thing? Greedy little thoughts ran through your head as you thought of all the times you shared together, both of you visibly happy in your eyes.

As much as you'd like to live a runaway life with him and hope he felt the same, you knew it was wrong. He'd get restless, and you'd start fighting. Whatever he chose to do, is what you would let him do. Osiris has taken notice of your feelings, and the knowing glances he gives when no one else is looking sets your face on fire, acting like he doesn't have a thing for Saint always writing those letters when he's on death's doorstep; dramatic is what you say.

Soon enough, all of your close friends can tell you like someone, but they simply can't figure out who. Ironically, the day you work up enough courage to ask him to be your partner is the same day he pins the location of the High Celebrant. The morning is tense, and just getting ready for the big fight is sending energy through your body. Crow, on the other hand, seems much more grim. It makes sense, really; you're the one who's been slaying gods over the years.

You're guard is quickly brought up when Spider summons you for a talk in the main room. You listen to his next words with a fierce intensity.

"Do not let him so close, or spoil him with pretty dreams. Kill the High Celebrant. Break Xivu Arath's hold over my Shore, and you can claim any prise in my lair as your reward. You'll have earned it."

Hiding a smile, you nod and make your way to disembark on your mission; looks like you won't have to ask.

The Dreaming City was as mystical as ever, and you vaguely wondered if Petra had seen you come in. Making quick work of the scarce Hive, you found yourself in Harbinger's Seclude. The massive Cryptolith was impossible to miss, and a full body shiver racked you as you approached it. This was it.

Stabbing the lure into the roots, Crow's voice filled your comm channel.

"Ha! Tagged it! It's bleeding energy and on its way back to you." Your heart jumped at his excited tone. Nobody had any business being that cute. The trademark screech of a Hive portal drowned out all noise, and your next big fight ensued.

The next period of time was spent chasing the Celebrant through realms, until, that is, it sealed the last portal. Osiris had given weak condolences, but you weren't going to give up on Crow. Not today! The blight high above you twinkled teasingly as frustrated tears swam over your eyes as you attempted scrambling up the large Awoken statue, just barely missing the hand and falling back to the ground uselessly.

The silence was becoming overwhelming, deafening, even. Osiris continued to tell you to return to fight another day, but he was too important for you to just leave behind.

"Maybe there's enough Hive magic left in the lure to find another way through!" For once, your Ghost didn't parrot the obvious; you almost wanted to kiss him. Turning around with a new fire, you thrusted your lure into the crystalline floor over the last trace of the High Celebrant's blood. Sure enough, platforms much like those of the Dreadnaught revealed themselves over the edge of the bridge.

You wasted no time, racing over every gap and closing in on the blight. Palpitations overtook your heart when Crow's voice returned to the feed, spewing some kind of death message. Death wouldn't take him. Especially not if you had anything to say about it.

Jumping through the portal, you recognize the bitter feelings of anguish. This is exactly how you felt when Sundance's light washed over the Prison of Elders. Not again.

By the time you see the High Celebrant, all you're seeing is red. Faintly, you remember how Drifter said the Hive in the system were scared of you; good. They should be.

Bullets fly and the ether sings with each corrupted Fallen whose head flies by your gun. If you weren't so pressed for time, you would've strangled the Wizard that had your sought after stolen Light. Standing in the pool of green magic, you turn a furious glare on to the Celebrant and unload your heavy straight into its bony head. Something inside of you lurched in desperation to finish the kill when it summons a portal, trying to make for a retreat and trapping you at the center of the room.

"Crow! The portal!"

"I see it! Now finish it!" Just as he says those words, the trap falls and the portal across the room implodes, sending the High Celebrant to its knees. Your body erupts with power as you descend upon the Hive that killed Sagira and nearly killed Crow, sending it off with your super into the abyss.

Heaving a sigh, your brain finally has a chance to clear with no more present danger. In fact, your chest swells with affection as your Ghost confidently speaks of his trust in Crow followed by his reply.

"It's been an honor, Guardian."

Finally leaving the location, Celebrant head included, you decide to sleep on your short trip back. Your Ghost wakes you up before you land, and when you transmat your eyes immediately fall on Crow, who is safe and sound. Behind your helmet, you smile wearily at the former prince.

The moment you step into the Spider's lair, the air is thick with tension. You can tell the kingpin is pleased to have the Shore cleansed of Hive corruption, but also upset that he has to give up one of his prizes.

"It's done." You say firmly.

"So it is... so it is," he leans forward in his seat with a leer, "All right, Guardian. As promised, you can have a prized bauble from my lair as compensation for your... heroics." The last word rolls off his tongue with a quiet distaste, and you have no problem returning the feeling.

"I want... him." Jerking your head in Crow's direction, you can feel the energy crack through the room.

"Cute. Real funny." Your brows crease in impatience at his dismissive snicker.

"You said anything in the room." You do your best to keep your eyes off of Crow; a distraction now could be bad news. Spider lets out a terrible laugh as his guards step forward, readying their spears.

"Oh... You really want my little bird," he puts an uncomfortable amount of importance on the words "really want", "Fine. You can have him." The large Fallen turns his gaze to Crow, mockingly waving his arm upward.

"Fly away," he looks back down at you, "and get the hell out of my lair."

No further instruction is needed as you and Crow make your leave. As you exit the safehouse, both Glint and your Ghost come out.

"Now what?" Glint looks to Crow for an answer. The reality of the event settles on the Awoken, and he looks at you in a way he hasn't before.

"Why would you do this for us?"

As a formality, you've never taken off your helmet around Crow. He'd never seen, or even had an idea about your face, until... now. The tear streaks from the mission are still on your face, slightly visible in the dim light. Walking over to him, you slowly bring your eyes up to his. He doesn't move away, but you do notice with a flash of hope that a blush is starting to grace his cheeks at your proximity. Clenching your eyes shut, you close the gap between you two and press a kiss to his lips.

He freezes for a moment before placing his hands on your shoulders, and you pull back afraid that you've just made the wrong move.

"I... uh." His eyes dart here and there before settling back on yours. His face straightens out, and then he hesitantly leans forward into your range again. This time, he's the one kissing you.

Both of you leave the Tangled Shore together.

Relationship HCs

He never fails to pick you up during your special brand of greeting, which is running straight at him and jumping into his arms. You even do the little spin around like those movie couples

He's okay with subtle PDA like handholding, but nothing too extreme such as kissing in front of others; he prefers to keep more intimate moments between you and him

Surprisingly eager for cuddles with you at the end of the day

He will let you indulge yourself by doing stupid things every once in a while, like seeing how much whipped cream you can put in his mouth before he can't take anymore

There are times when you just talk about random stuff because he knows you like the sound of his voice

He usually has to calm you down whenever another Guardian stares too long. You see it as a threat, and you're ready to defend your glowing boyfriend with your life

When you're not busy with Vanguard tasks, you're bringing him to the planets that weren't swallowed by the Darkness and showing him the layout, along with whatever endemic life is present

He becomes enamored with Earth's crows, which you had expected

Whenever he has visions of his past, he'll tell you and you do your best to fill in with rudimentary details such as location or time; you hope he never remembers the moment when you had to kill him

You especially love playing with his hair, it's nearly softer than silk and you are intrigued by the white streaks at the front of his cut

Both of you will decide to sit down every once in a while and just touch each other's face; you prefer running your hands along his jawline and cheekbones while he'll brush just under your eyes and along your temples

Dates can range from a quiet, romantic dinner to hunting down large and difficult quarry

Whenever you find a Golden Age waltz piece, you bring it to him and give it a listen; these sessions always end with you two dancing and swaying with each other

Truly, a couple of many talents

NSFW 👁👄👁

The first time you get anywhere close to the act he's so unsure of himself you both stop and instead explore each other at the surface level

No matter how many times he sees you nude his face is a blushing mess everytime

The first few times you take the lead, but once you both get over the fact that you've exchanged pleasantries he's the one who figures out he likes to be dominant in bed

He's vocal to an extent, mostly heavy breathing/moaning and grunts to let you know exactly how good you feel

He's super into bondage (who would've known?) whenever you're the one tying him up

He always prefers the ability to see your face, and whether it's because he can see your face contort in pleasure or because he can lock with you in a heated kiss, you can't tell

His sides are usually ticklish, but they act more like erogenous zones when both of you are deep into it

He starts out rough since he isn't used to this kind of activity at all, but over time he finds a balance between being gentle and absolutely blowing your back out

He's likely to caress your arms and waist the whole time to add another sensitive layer to your already overstimulated body

He also likes draping his body over yours, and with how hot his chest is and the press of his lower body? You're not arguing

Once you finish, he either goes straight to sleep while huddling against you or you convince him to get up so you can shower together

I have 2 asks for Drifter HCs, but I'm implementing a personal/request system so I can keep my monsterfucker train going. The next HCs I'm releasing are for Nokris, then I'll do Drifter HCs, and for now my last personal writing will be for Ghaul

[pars-ley]

Come away with me

Pairing: Jimin x f reader ft Namjoon x f reader

Summary: Roses are dead, my soul feels blue, come away with me, I only want you. Being forced into an arranged marriage is not ideal, even less so when you're hopelessly in love with someone else. But with your choice, could come bloody consequences.

Genre: arranged marriage au / affair au / angst / smut / fluff / mafia au / 

Rating: 18+ (nsfw)

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Oral f recieving / sex / finger foreplay / mention of murder /

Beta reader: @taegularities​ thank you so much!

A/n: This is for the btswritersclub February prompt 'dishonest love'. 

When you die, do you think you'll be able to go back to the time you were the happiest, and relive those moments forever? 

Or if there's a life after this one, maybe it'll be another chance at happiness with the person who satisfies your soul completely.

Either way, your mind only sees one person behind your eyelids. And replays one moment…

Your bare breasts shine from the orange light of the fire, bathing you in a golden glow as you watch his soft, gentle lips cascade slowly down your body. Every part of your flesh he meets, sings under his touch and creates a pathway of goosebumps, leading him onward.

"You're so beautiful," Jimin whispers against you, an involuntary shiver vibrating down your spine.

You smile at his words, fingers smoothing the hair from his eyes so you can see him. His intense stare, so full of love and adoration makes your heart ready to burst in your chest, pouring emotion singing his name at full force.

His fingers are on you and in you, manoeuvring in a way only he can, knowing your body and pleasing you in ways that make your back arch and your toes curl. Your fingernails find anchorage in the soft pile rug beneath you as you ground yourself from floating away, as the feel of his hot, wet mouth on you is enough to tip you into the abyss.

When your quaking body eases under his touch, he climbs slowly up your body, his lips journey upward leaving a trail of wet prints behind him.

You pull him into a fiery kiss, tongues dancing a heated rumba. The taste of you on his mouth brings fresh heat straight to your core.

You have never felt more free and more happy than in this moment. You do not allow yourself to think about tomorrow. You want to drink in everything about this night.

"Run away with me," he whispers. 

His words are exactly what you long to hear and what you long to do.

"You know I can't." You stroke the side of his face, the curve of his cheek fitting perfectly in your palm.

"You can. Forget about what your duty is. Forget about your father. Live for yourself."

A sad laugh escapes you. "If only it was that simple."

He sits up, pulling you up with him. "It can be! Come away with me. We can go anywhere you want. Your dad won't find us, we can just live our life." 

Tears sting your eyes as hope overwhelms you. Could it be possible? To live your life freely with him and forget about everything else? 

"Please, choose me and I swear I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you make me."

The desperate plea in his eyes has you melting and in this moment you truly believe it's possible.

You nod as he responds with a heart stopping beam, one that has you weak and wanting to do everything in your power to make sure it keeps dazzling you.

His hands capture the sides of your face, lips moving against yours, pouring every ounce of love into this kiss.

You make love on the rug in the firelight until the early hours of the morning. He draws his name from your lips more than once and you relish in being able to say it so freely. You've had a taste of freedom with him and you know you can't go back now.

"Pack a bag. Meet me at the old oak tree on the edge of town at noon?"

You nod as he strokes your face with his thumb, bringing you the most amount of comfort from such a tiny action.

As he sneaks out through your window, your heart leaves with him, feeling safe and loved in the warmth of his embrace.

You watch until the dark night captures him completely from your sight.

You and him forever, how it's meant to be. Could your dream become a reality?

You race to fetch your bag and begin shoving clothes and your most prized possessions in every crevice.

A knock on your door has you frozen in place before shoving your bag under your bed in time to see your mother’s face peer in.

"I thought I saw your light on," she says sweetly as she steps in, closing the door behind her. "Wedding day jitters?" she asks. 

You nod automatically, guilt already threatening to boil over inside you.

"I thought as much. I was the same when I married your father." She walks over, taking a seat on the edge of your bed, patting the space beside her. You do as she asks, as usual, and take a seat.

"Let me tell you something, and I want you to listen to every word." Her eyes blaze into yours, the sweet, cheery side gone, leaving you with only the intimidating and menacing side that made your stomach turn and your palms sweat.

"Before I married your father, I was in love with a boy. Handsome, charming, caring, adventurous, everything I'd ever wanted in a man, everything I could have hoped for. We had a very passionate relationship and we were seeing each other right up until the night before my wedding. That night he asked me to run away with him."

Your eyes pop but you dare not speak before she's finished.

"I wanted to, lord knows how often I still think about that moment but I chose not to follow my heart but to follow my duty, that's what matters the most, dear. I wouldn't have this wonderful life with my lovely dresses, my jewels, our cars, our boats, everything. I'd be a peasant, living the simple life. Is that what you want?" She raises a sharp eyebrow in your direction and you swallow the lump of fear in your throat. 

You want him, you'd gladly give up everything else but you dare not say those words out of fear of the consequences.

She sighs. "I know it's hard, believe me, giving up what you love and desire the most is not easy but it is worth it. Kim Namjoon can give you everything your father gives me. That's all I want for you, dear."

You don't miss the silent earning she's giving you as she stands and heads for the door.

"Because I love you, I'll give you the chance to make this right. Send a message to Park Jimin, telling him why you must marry Kim Namjoon and that he must leave you alone, and I will spare his meaningless little life." She shuts the door behind her, leaving you with a thick silence that grabs your throat and suffocates you.

Your dream is slipping away through your fingers as you grapple at it, attempting to keep it.

You want to run to him now. To grab him and never let go. You wish you could protect him but you can't. 

Seeing his face in your mind, you clutch your chest and let the sobs wrack your body. The love of your life further away than you could have imagined.

You want to run to him, to escape with him now but you dare not put him in any more danger, knowing he must already be being watched by your father’s people.

You were trapped, a prisoner in your own home, in your own life, destined to follow you mother’s footsteps and be the wife of a mob boss, enslaved in a loveless marriage forever. 

That is your destiny. As much as you want to believe differently, you have no choice. You couldn't risk Jimin's life for your selfish wants. He is more important than anything, he deserves to be happy with someone freely.

You sit at your desk and pour all of the love you have left in your words on the paper, printed forever for him to look back on, knowing you sealed your heart in the envelope just for him. Letting him know this sacrifice isn't an easy one and that he will have your heart for eternity and beyond. Begging him not to come and save you as the idea of a world where he isn't living could not keep you too.

You print the wax seal and scrawl his name across the front before letting your tears escape freely until you're lulled into a painful and restless sleep.

You snap out of the memory of last night and stare at your reflection in your long, ornate wedding gown, not a hair out of place, the perfect makeup concealing bags and red rimmed eyes.

You go through the motions of getting ready on autopilot, all noise fading into the background, everyone around you passing in a blur. You feel numb at the prospect of what you're about to do. 

You'd sent one of your fathers errand boys off with your letter, telling him exactly where Jimin would be. You can't bear to think of what his reaction will be when he reads it, you don't want to imagine the heartbreak your words will cause, you are already dealing with enough of your own.

In no time at all you are at the cathedral in the lobby, flowers in hand and desperately holding back the tears you feel burning behind your eyelids. 

"You look beautiful, darling," your father whispers as he intertwines your arm with his.

The empty pit in your chest that used to house your heart is throbbing with grief and mourning at the life you're entering and for the one you're leaving behind.

You take a deep breath and steel yourself as the large, oak double doors open and you're faced with the sea of guests turning back to admire you.

At the end of the aisle you see him, the stern, expressionless Kim Namjoon. Soon to be your husband. Looking at you with utter...indifference. As if you were nothing more than a simple business deal. Which is exactly what you are to him. You look away from his unrelenting, icy stare.

Thankful for the veil, concealing your true feelings behind the mesh fabric.

You glance at the faces you walk past, most people are here because of your parents, they're people you've never met or who you hardly know.

A familiar set of crescent eyes and plump lips draw your attention, capturing all your focus immediately as your stomach drops.

Jimin.

Your Jimin.

All you want to do is run to him, but you dare not falter and draw attention to him. How did he even get in?

Why is he here?

He moves slowly along the row towards you, panic seizing your organs and squeezing them in an alarming grip.

Your breath hitches in your throat and as it leaves your lips in a rush, your father follows your gaze and spots him. 

Everything stops. Everyone looks around to him and all you can hear is the hushed chatter of the people around you.

You can't bear to tear your eyes away from him as all he does is offer you that breathtaking smile that makes you believe in gods, and angels and everything in between.

You shut your eyes tight wanting to keep that image burned in your mind and not wishing to see whatever is about to happen next...

[ari-shipping-stuff]

Monochrome Week 2020

Day Five - High School AU

———

@monochromeweek

sequel to day three's fake dating au

———

Weiss couldn't get it out of her head.

It made her breathless. Light. Dreamy. She couldn't see clearly.

When she slept. Whenever she closed her eyes. The she was.

Blake, staring at her with that curious little head tilt she did. And her catlike amber eyes glowing under the orange lights.

In the place of every sound, it was still her. That one simple word. Her voice like velvet. Echoing relentlessly in her head.

And her hand. Held in hers. That's what had her the most. Their hands. Fingers intertwined. Staying that way for what Weiss wanted to be forever.

They never did let go last night. Not until the very last minute when Blake brought her home. And just before she left, she turned back. Another moment Weiss wished would last forever.

Blake had smiled ever so slightly. Easy to miss. But Weiss did see. Explosions might've gone off around her, but she could only see her smile. That smile that filled her with such an overwhelming, beautifully unfamiliar feeling that made her want to climb up a mountain and sing at the top of her lungs. To smile like there was no tomorrow. To steal every star from the sky. To conquer the world and give it all to Blake.

Weiss had all that to say as she drifted into space in the following day's English lecture. That.. And another thing.

Fuck.

She was not supposed to feel like this. What the hell did I do? What would Blake do?

Weiss was restless for the whole day, incessantly tapping her feet and answering questions only because she was annoyed that said questions were breaking her train of thought and she couldn't think straight at all.

As soon as the last bell rang, Weiss was ready to run out and curl up in bed forever.

Unfortunately, certain nosy people have other ideas.

Ruby, curse her track team legs, ran up to Weiss from behind, pouncing on her to prevent her escape. Though it did backfire (not that Ruby cared), causing them both to fall over.

"What are you doing, you dolt!?" Weiss screeched.

"Sorry!" Ruby giggled, not sorry in the slightest. She let go, rolling over and helping Weiss back up. "You didn't answer our messages last night!"

Weiss brushed off herself, groaning at the sight of her other friends' grinning idiot faces.

"Do you people ever stop?"

"Unfortunately not." replied Ren.

Weiss shook her head, sighing. "I used to think you were a sensible person.

"Now what do you dolts want?"

"We saw you leave the party!" said Nora.

"Early." Yang added, grinning. "Again."

"We went home." Weiss deadpanned. "Can I go?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Not a chance."

Ruby only shrugged. "Sorry, Weiss. This is a democracy."

"Democracy." Weiss rolled her eyes, leaning against a locker. She pouted, looking away from Ruby, who was trying to pull off her typical five-year-old pleading face.

Weiss kept running through thoughts about how all of this should be kept private. Whatever she and Blake did was absolutely none of their business. But then it struck her again— no. It didn't. They were not in a real relationship. Every juicy detail of their fake relationship needed to be widespread.

Oh, how confused she'd become. It was almost laughable. Level-headed Weiss Schnee couldn't discern which parts of her and Blake's relationship were real or not. Was the relationship real? It couldn't be. Yet it certainly felt real last night.

"Weiss?" Ruby called out, pulling Weiss back to reality.

"We went out to eat."

The group leaned towards Weiss expectantly, like puppies waiting to be fed. She only rolled her eyes in response.

"That's it. That's all you're getting."

Nora jabbed an accusing finger at Weiss.

"So there was more!" she yelled.

"No." Weiss snapped. "There was not. Leave me alone."

Someone cleared their throat.

All heads turned to see Blake. She had a hand on her hip and an eyebrow raised. Her eyes landed on Weiss.

'What are you doing here?' Weiss mouthed.

Blake snorted, walking up next to her. She snaked an arm around the shorter girl's waist, smiling casually at the rest of the group.

"Can you guys back up a bit? My girlfriend needs some space to breathe, you know."

"Girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?" 

Blake rolled her eyes amusedly, tightening her grip around Weiss's waist.

"Yes. Girlfriend." she said. "Now if you'll excuse us, I'm supposed to walk her home."

"Don't worry about it then!" Yang grinned, winking supportively at her best friend. "Make sure she gets there safely, Kitty Cat."

Blake snorted, waving. "Yeah, I will. See you soon."

From there, Blake began to steer the dumbfounded, red-faced Weiss out of the building.

"Got everything you needed?" Blake asked casually.

"What was that?" Weiss hissed. "Girlfriend?"

An intense red crept up Blake's cheeks, as if waking up from a daydream. She pulled back her arm. A cold nothing grew on the small of Weiss's back. They both looked away.

"Sorry." Blake mumbled. "Did.. Did I make you uncomfortable?"

Weiss sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"W-Well, yes, a bit. But nevermind that. Technically, that was a good move. Get this scheme moving along faster."

"O-Oh." Weiss didn't catch the twinge of hurt in Blake's tone, her own mind spinning.

"But next time warn me before you get all forward like that!" Weiss exclaimed. Then she stopped in her tracks, grimacing.

Blake watched her worriedly.

"Weiss? What's wrong?"

Weiss switched positions with Blake, so that she was on their left, as if she was hiding.

"Be discrete. He's there."

Blake searched around the parking lot as they walked. But the ridiculous amount of gel on Henry Marigold's hair was hard to miss.

Weiss instinctively linked her arm with Blake's, turning them to pass along the other side.

"Weiss!"

Drat.

Weiss twitched, wanting nothing more than to bash Henry's head against a rock and hope he never wakes up.

Then Blake pulled back her arm, placing her hand on hers. In a laughable moment of deja vu, Weiss pushed her fingers forward, intertwining their fingers.

She looked up at Blake, chills running down her spine.

'I'm here.' Blake mouthed.

"Weiss!"

Reluctantly, Weiss tore her gaze away from Blake's. Henry was running towards them, completely abandoning the band of cheerleaders near his car.

He stopped, not so smoothly, in front of the two, a wide smirk on his face.

"Weiss Schnee." he drawled, leaning on his arm against the hood of a stranger's car.

"Henry."

He glanced at Blake. He pointed at her, his finger orbiting an imaginary circle.

"Isn't.. She that girl who lived in a box?"

Just as Blake was opening her mouth, Weiss cut in.

"Blake." she snapped. "Her name is Blake."

"Right.. Didn't she transfer last year?" he eyed their hands with a raised eyebrow. "What's she doing here?"

"She came to bring me home, Henry." Weiss's grip on Blake's hand tightened. She tugged ever so slightly, ready to leave. "Now if you'll excuse us—"

"No, no, baby—"

"Baby?"

"—I was waiting by my car for you the whole time!" he exclaimed, squaring his shoulders. He ran a finger through his hair, stepping forward towards Weiss. "Thought we could talk. Y'know.. Some.. Stuff."

He was playing attention to Blake, Weiss noted. He wasn't nonchalant about her presence like he was with everyone else. He almost looked..

"Worried, Henry?" Weiss asked.

"What?"

Weiss looked him up and down, a slow, giddy smirk creeping to her lips.

He saw the pictures.

She relaxed, smiling politely. Though after that sly expression she pulled earlier, Henry had to admit it looked almost eerie now.

"Sorry, Henry." she grinned, placing a hand on Blake's arm. "I don't think my girlfriend would rest so easy if you brought me home. Especially after walking all the way from her school."

"Girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?"

Henry was too dumbfounded to notice Blake's expression. But he frowned, his mood turning bitter rather fast. He tugged the collars on his rust-colored jacket.

"Didn't take you for a dyke, Schnee." he sneered. "What a waste."

Blake stepped in front of him. She was stiff. Somewhat calm. But her seething amber eyes told another story.

"Take that back. And walk away."

"Or what?"

He glared at Blake, leaning forward to make himself seem much taller.

Weiss could feel the chill in Blake's hand. It turned cold with icy fear. But Blake let go, curling her hands into fists around Henry's collar. She pulled him towards her harshly.

"Or I'll make you." she growled.

Weiss placed a hand on Blake's shoulder.

"Blake." she said softly.

After what looked like reluctance, Blake pushed Henry away.

He ran and never looked back, once again ignoring the cheerleaders near his car.

Blake glared after him until he was out of view. Until she felt Weiss's fingers lace between hers. She sighed, turning to Weiss with an apologetic look.

Weiss smiled, shrugging.

"At least, he won't be bothering us anymore, huh?"

"Was I that bad?" Blake winced.

Without thinking, Weiss tucked a loose strand of hair behind Blake's ear, blushing once she realized what she was doing. But she played it off easily.

"I wouldn't call it bad."

"Adam.." Blake sighed. "He used to do that thing. Lean forward. Intimidate me. Make me feel small."

"Blake.."

Blake laughed, gently brushing her fingers along Weiss's cheeks.

"It felt good to stand up to someone for a change."

Weiss laughed.

"Yeah, it did."

———

i'll sequel this too lmao. that'll be the last one, i swear

— ari

———

part one | part two | part three | part four

[eryiss]

Event: LGBTQA+ Month hosted by @ft-wwtdp​

Ship: Fraxus (Freed Justine x Gajeel Redfox)

Prompts: Gamble, Balance, Thirst, Quarrel Accident

Verse: Victorian AU

Alternate Places To Read: Fanfiction, Archive of our Own. Event master list here.

Here’s my sixth group of one shots for the LGBTQA+ month. You can read rest in the master list linked above. Again, this is set in the victorian era, and has some minor period typical values. Nothing graphic, but be wanred of suggestions of a less accepting time. Also, the thirst prompt has sexual undertones. There’s only kissing, but you might want to skip it if that’s not your thing. 

Day Twenty-Six – Gamble (On Yourself)

Gajeel had taken far too many gambles today.

It had been a gamble to cut through the docking area of Magnolia where many people got mugged, even despite his intimidating style. It had been a gamble to let his workmates know he wouldn't be at home, as that might allow questions to begin as to where he would spend the evening. It had been a gamble to even look towards the establishment that he had just entered. Tonight had been a night filled with gambles.

The building looked… normal. Pretty much like every other bar that Gajeel had patronised in his life. For the unknowing, this might have been just a regular tavern. But The Guild – or more colloquially referred to as Fairy Tail – was no such bar.

It was a bathhouse.

A place for men of Gajeel's persuasion to meet in safety. It was filled with all sorts of peoples, and acted as a safe heaven for them all. Men interested in buggery, those who rejected the gender they were born into, and those who didn't conform to what society wanted of them in some other capacity. It was Gajeel's first time in such a place and, despite knowing that he had more in common with the patrons of this bar than any other he'd been in, he felt incredibly out of place. Like a stranger, looking upon something that he shouldn't have seen.

He slowly approached the bar, unaware if the feeling of being watched was justified or not. He was regretting coming here already; he could have stayed home or drunk at a more common bar. He shouldn't have let Laxus tell him of such a place, or convince him to even think about going there.

Fairy Tail wasn't only a bathhouse. There were rooms available for renting upstairs should two men need them, but it was by no means a requirement. It was just a bar where you could be yourself. Laxus had said Gajeel would enjoy himself.

"Hello sir," A woman behind the bar greeted when he got close. "What can I get for you?"

"Erm," Gajeel mumbled, not wanting to be seen. "What d'ya have."

"Oh we have lots to chose from," The woman smiled, speaking patiently. "Anything any other bars have. Beer, ale, lager, wines, champagne if you're so inclined. And, between you and me, I've been practicing my cocktails and I'm getting rather good at them. So anything you might want, I'm sure we'll be able to accommodate."

"Beer, ma'am," Gajeel requested. The woman nodded, and Gajeel took a seat at the bar.

The woman got to work on pouring Gajeel's drink into a tankard, and the man kept his eyes straight on the bartop. He was just coming here out of curiosity and because he had let Laxus get into his head. Too busy trying to look inconspicuous, he failed to notice the man who had walked into the bar and sat beside him with a considerably greater amount of confidence when compared to Gajeel himself. It was only when he spoke that Gajeel realised he wasn't alone.

"A glass of my regular please Mirajane, my dear," A smooth, refined voice said, and Gajeel glanced to his side.

The man beside him was clearly wealthy, as portrayed by his fancy clothing and clean fingernails. When Gajeel glanced up he saw a head of long, silky green hair and a strong jawline. A gentleman then. Looking up further, Gajeel saw striking eyes and an expression of contentment.

At that moment, he was pretty much everything Gajeel was not.

"Give me a moment Freed," The barmaid, Mirajane, commented as she finished Gajeel's drink. "This gentleman got here first."

"And I don't get preferential treatment for being here so often?"

"Driving away my customers? You're lucky you're not charged extra," Mirajane laughed.

The man, Freed, seemed to enjoy the joke at his expense. It appeared that the contrast of Gajeel's discomfort and Freed's easy and relaxed nature seemed to have been noticed by the richer man, who looked to Gajeel with an expression of quiet intrigue. In response, Gajeel turned down and looked towards the top of the bar again, trying not to allow himself to be pinned by the sharp expression of the man beside him.

He couldn't help but squirm slightly. It wasn't often than he was around men with his fondness for the same sex. Well, there was Laxus, but neither man had interest in the other. But Freed, in his slight nobility and smooth voice, was the type of man that Gajeel enjoyed.

In theory at least, in reality the man looking at him made him squirm.

"I think you could only look more uncomfortable if a crocodile was threatening to bite off your toes," The man said to Gajeel, smiling softly. "First time in a place like this?"

"That obvious?" Gajeel asked, looking back to Freed and cupping the beer he's been given.

"It was either that or you're a copper who drew the short straw, and has to come here undercover and you're scared of anyone getting within a foot of you," Freed laughed at his own joke, and Gajeel let out a single chuckle. "With my experience, the police are much too boring to allow a man like yourself in their ranks."

"What d'you mean by that?" Gajeel asked, slightly offended.

"You have a rough beauty to you, sir. From what I've seen, any individuality is whipped out of you and replaced by a baton and a badge," Freed smiled, and Gajeel found himself speechless at the compliment. He had never once been called beautiful, never expected that to happen either. "Freed Justine, a pleasure to meet you."

"Gajeel," He introduced himself, delighted he didn't stammer over the word. He didn't say his surname; that was a gamble he wasn't going to take.

"Oh," Mirajane interrupted. "You must be Laxus friend, he mentioned that you might come by and I'm to look after you. I should have known."

"He thinks I need looking after?" Gajeel grunted, squaring his shoulders a little.

"No. Those weren't his words," Mirajane was quick to correct him. Out of the corner of his eye, Gajeel could see Freed smiling amusedly at the situation. "It's just he mentioned that you might not be used to places like this, and I know that they can be a little intimidating for new people. He just wanted me to keep an eye on you, make sure it didn't overwhelm you or that someone unknowingly made you uncomfortable."

"Oh," Gajeel mumbled. "Well, you don't need to put yourself to any trouble. I can look after myself."

"And if not, I'm sure I can look after our new friend," Freed smiled, before whispering. "Miss Strauss, though a kind woman, is rather a gossip. Harmlessly so, she enjoys knowing things rather than telling them, but she can be rather vicious when she wants to find something out."

"I can hear you," Mirajane stated, her voice less melodic now.

"Thus proving my point, don't you think," Freed smirked, and Mirajane glared at him. "Attend to your customers, dear, I'll keep him company," He then looked to Gajeel. "If you'll have me, of course."

Gajeel reddened slightly. "Ain't got any objections."

After that, Mirajane decided to leave them alone, and the two men began to speak. Gajeel didn't know if it was purposeful, but the conversation never once approached the reason why Gajeel was there. No speak of relationships, identity, or lovers. It started off about the best kind of drink – Freed fighting for wine, Gajeel for beer – which then divulged into what both men did for a living. Then, they just talked about nothing.

And it was good. Gajeel had never really had a conversation in a bar before. Men didn't speak in the bars he usually went to. Men drank, smoke, and sometimes made hopeless advancements on women. This was rather an improvement.

Freed was pretty good company, too. He was interesting, and perhaps the most handsome man Gajeel had laid eyes on. Rather destructively, Gajeel had a fondness for men above his station. Freed was that, most definitely. Refined, well spoken, obviously wealthy too if he was as successful in his career in law as he stated.

"Tell me, Gajeel," Freed said suddenly, finishing his wine. "Have you ever kissed a man before?"

"Erm," Gajeel blanked. The topic had come from nowhere. "Guess not."

"Shame," Freed smiled pleasantly. Seductively? Maybe Gajeel was thinking too deeply about the conversation though. "Would you like to?"

"E-excuse me?" Gajeel stammered. People weren't so forward, particularly when they were speaking about committing a crime. An unfair crime, but a crime none the less.

"Would you like me to kiss you," Freed grinned a little. "You're my type, and I think I might be yours. And I'm rather good at it."

"I mean… is that-" Gajeel was suddenly overwhelmed by the situation.

He hadn't come here to meet a man, or act on his impulses. It was just meant to be a place where Gajeel didn't have to look over his shoulder, and to perhaps drink with men with the same fondness that he had. A safe space, essentially. He hadn't expected anyone to pay any interest to him, let alone a man that would tick off the boxes of Gajeel's perfect man. He had no idea how to deal with such a situation.

Luckily, Freed did. The man reached over, took Gajeel's chin in his fingers, and engaged him in his first kiss.

And it was euphoria.

~~~

Day Twenty-Seven – Balance (And Adjustments)

Freed had always managed to keep his life well balanced.

He had put a lot of effort into forging a strong and reliable career that afforded him a more luxurious lifestyle than most. He had a small group of good friends who had allowed him the social interactions he needed, but also understood that sometimes he needed space alone. He had many hobbies that he often kept up with, be that reading, translations of old languages, or the investigation of antiques. These three aspects of his life were all he had needed, and he'd made sure to give them all the time they required.

With this balance, Freed had been happy. There hadn't been anything obviously missing in his life, nor was there a sense of melancholy. The life he had created for him had been satisfactory. But, with the inclusion of Gajeel, something more had been added.

And that something was threatening to throw this balance off.

Gajeel was unique in Freed's life, in almost every way. He was of a lower class and rough around the edges, something that Freed enjoyed greatly. He was more open with his opinions, lacking the middle class fear of insulting people. He was also more willing to take risks than Freed often allowed himself to be, the brashness of his personality invading Freed's life in a delightful way. It was as if someone had taken a jaw-droppingly handsome hammer to Freed's existence, with the intention of building up something new in its place.

But would this new thing be better, or worse? It was a question that Freed found himself pondering silently as he walked down the road towards his modestly comfortable home, with Gajeel at his side.

The two men had been on a few dates at this point. Well, they had drunk together and shared a single meal, but it was the closest thing two men could get to dating. So far, Freed had kept his interactions with Gajeel limited to these meetings. He was keeping the man at arm's length, because he didn't know if he could risk Gajeel getting closer to him.

But that night, Freed might have changed his mind.

They'd gone to a bar of Gajeel's choosing, which was considerably rougher than anywhere Freed went. They had done almost what they always did, drinking at a bar in the same way friends would. But when, after both got slightly tipsy, drinks had been placed before them, Gajeel had offered a challenge. He bet Freed a tuppence that he could finish his pint before Freed could.

And in that moment, Gajeel was the most attractive man Freed had ever laid eyes on. With a cocky smirk, challenging Freed to a competition, he was irresistible. He had a slightly crook in his nose, his sharp teeth visible, and his piercings glinting in the candle light. If it were acceptable, Freed would have jumped on him then and there.

But he didn't. Instead, he drank. And then he started to think.

They'd shared a few kisses in the seclusion of a dark alley, but that was it. Again, Freed had stopped it before anything further could happen, and it was all because he didn't want to upset the balance of his life. He had spent a lot of time creating a stable existence for himself, and Gajeel posed a threat to it. And now he had to decide if he was willing to risk it. To allow the balance to be upended and recreated with Gajeel in it.

He had to decide weather to invite him in his home, or leave him at the gate again.

Even thinking about it, his gut supplied the answer. Let him in. Gajeel was everything that Freed could have dreamt of, if he was honest. Fun, competitive, cheeky, creative, heartfelt, honest. And he wasn't just looking to take Freed to some secluded room and bed him, he genuinely seemed like he wanted a relationship. That was rare, and Freed shouldn't throw it away.

"Yer awful quiet suddenly," Gajeel commented. "Still pouting about losing?"

"No," Freed laughed. "And I still maintain you distracted me on purpose," Gajeel cackled at that. "Running your thigh against mine is a rather nasty trick."

"Doesn't mean ya don't have ta pay up, does it?" Gajeel smirked.

"I could drink you under the table with a higher quality wine," Freed rebutted, faux glaring while he tried to supress a laugh. This was something Gajeel had already done to him, allowed a more juvenile delight enter his every day life. That was definitely something that Freed wasn't ready to get rid of.

"You wanna take me to some fancy bar and prove it, fine by me," Gajeel crossed his arms, and Freed could see his arms flexing under the fabric of his clothes. "But yer paying."

"You certainly know how to get a drink out of me," Freed commented sardonically.

Gajeel laughed, and pat him on the shoulder with a little amount of strength. That was something that he did often, and Freed had concluded that it was his alternative to a romantic gesture. They couldn't very well hold hand in the middle of the street, after all, so a masculine pat on the back would have to do. When the thought struck him, Freed had to wonder what Gajeel's hands would feel like. Callous and rough no doubt. Rather delightful sounding.

It was then that Freed realised just how ridiculous was being.

He was thinking about what the other man's hands would feel like in his own. He couldn't pretend that this was platonic, nor could be delude himself into thinking this was two men who would eventually use each other for satisfaction.

He wasn't just attracted to Gajeel sexually. There was a romantic feeling too.

Worst still, Freed realised just how patient the other man was being with him. Freed had been the one to instigate the whole damn thing, and at first he had held off getting too far with him because Gajeel was inexperienced. But they weren't just strangers at a bar anymore, they were friends. They were comfortable around each other, and if the suggestive comments Gajeel had started to make were reflective of how he felt, Gajeel was willing to become lovers. And so was Freed, so why the hell was he putting things off?

To keep some sort of balance. What was the point in that? He wasn't keeping himself safe, he was allowing himself to stagnate. If he didn't take a step forward with Gajeel, then he never would. And his comfortable, balanced life would be all he had. And, right now, he wanted a bit of adventure.

"Taking you to a bar seems counter-intuitive," Freed continued, a sudden rush of adrenaline pushing him forward. "I've rather a well-stocked liquor cabinet right here. I can prove my point to you now, if you'd like."

Gajeel faltered a little, looking towards Freed's house as they stopped at the gate before it. He had walked Freed home after each of their dates, as the street was part of his walk home, but had never been invited in before. He glanced at the building, then at Freed, and grinned.

"You wanna be humiliated in yer own home, that's your choice," Gajeel grinned.

Then, as if it were natural, Freed found himself opening the gate to his home and walking down the path. Gajeel followed him, and an electric drumming of anticipation and excitement flowed through him. As he put the key in the lock, he wondered why he had taken so long to let this happen.

And once the door was closed, and Gajeel was pushing him against a wall with his lips, any thoughts of balance left him completely.

~~~

Day Twenty-Eight – Thirst (Of A Nobleman)

Anybody else would just think that Freed had been particularly thirsty. Nobody would have even noticed just how much Freed had been drinking throughout the day, and if they actually had, they would've just assumed that he needed a drink. There was no chance of anyone realising the actual reason that Freed had been continually drinking flute after flute of champagne throughout the afternoon.

Freed also hoped that Gajeel didn't know the reason for his apparent thirst. He would be intolerably smug when he realised it was because of him.

Weeks prior, Freed had been invited to attend a party at a nearby manor house owned by the Dreyar family. Being close with the son of the family, Freed had also gotten Gajeel an invitation. His lover would be there under the guise of a possible business partner that Freed needed to impress. Only the Dreyar's themselves knew that Gajeel was Freed's lover, so the excuse was needed.

And with such an excuse, Gajeel needed a change of clothes.

The man, being an ironmonger, didn't have many luxurious pieces of clothing, and had needed to go to the tailors so the lie of him being a businessman could be believable. Freed had through nothing of it as he'd sent the man to his tailor, expecting him to come back in something more similar to what Freed often worn. He had thought that Gajeel would have some clothes of a nicer fabric and more modern stylings, and that was it.

He hadn't expected the outfit to be so… flattering.

Of course, flattering wasn't the word that came to mind when he first saw Gajeel wearing it. Freed's immediate impressions were that it was gorgeous, gentlemanly, and, importantly, tight. Tight enough to encourage a rush of blood to swell Freed's groin.

And throughout the afternoon, Gajeel had been wearing the outfit. It was a test of patience for Freed rivalling torture, and the man believed he deserved a damn medal for not insisting they find an unused room in the house and buggering the man against the wall like a pair of animals. The urge had been there throughout the entire day, and Freed had only managed to keep his hands off his lover by busying them with something else.

Namely, drinking.

It had been a hellishly difficult task. The formal clothes had been measured to fit snugly around Gajeel, highlight his strong physique. His biceps bulged in his sleeves, his chest was pronounced in his shirt and coat, and his riding trousers had been so damn tight Freed could see the musculature that made up his thigs through them. Freed would have to have a word with his tailor, perhaps docking him some pay for making his balls blue.

What was worse, Gajeel himself had taken to the outfit perfectly. Well, in a sense. He didn't play the part of an aristocrat, but as someone who had fallen into money but stuck to his workman roots. The juxtaposition of the man's luxury against his rough and common personality had an effect on Freed he couldn't quantify.

Forget a medal. Freed deserved compensation for being so patient.

And Gajeel had more torture for Freed yet. Once the party was over, and they had returned to Freed's home, Gajeel had delivered a final blow. He shucked off his jacket and undid the top two buttons of his shirt. Now a tantalising vision of his hair covered chest was peeking out, and Freed felt his sanity slipping away.

"Scoundrel," Freed muttered to himself, not expecting Gajeel to hear.

"What?" Gajeel asked, and Freed looked up to see he was grinning.

Freed's breath caught in his lungs. Gajeel was sitting in the armchair that Freed often read at, lounging over the leather with the smuggest expression on his face. His legs were spread wide, and Freed was given clear clarification that Gajeel hadn't worn a codpiece. His arms were bulging in his sleeves and, finally, Freed realised that the bastard knew what effect he had on his lover, and had been making it worse.

"I called you a scoundrel," Freed said again, glaring. Gajeel grinned. "You… you bloody well did all of that on purpose, didn't you?"

"Don't know what you mean," Gajeel grinned. He didn't even try to be convincing. "I just asked for my clothes to be tight cause I like the feeling."

"You… you-" The words wouldn't come to Freed. Gajeel sauntered over to his lover, smirking.

"I thought this party was gonna be full of stuffy asshats, I needed to have a little fun," He grinned, standing over Freed. He leant down, took the glaring man's chin in his fingers and leant closer. "I've never seen a nobleman so thirsty before. The sun must have been getting to ya. Only thing that makes sense, given how hot and sweaty you were lookin'."

"You will regret doing this," Freed muttered, eyes hard. The looming presence of his gorgeous lover above him was starting to take an effect, however. "I will make damn sure of that."

"I'm scared," Gajeel chuckled. "If it makes ya any less angry, I wanted ta jump on ya just as much."

Before Freed could say anything, Gajeel leant down and brought their lips together in a heated and passionate kiss. Freed returned it within an instant, running a hand over Gajeel's strong arms and feeling the muscles flexing over the fabric. He grabbed the collar of the man's shirt and tugged on it sharply, making the man collapse into his lap. The kiss continued as he did so.

"I very much doubt it," Freed snapped against Gajeel's lips.

Gajeel cackled, pressing himself further against Freed as they kissed against the chair. When he felt Freed's hands roaming under his shirt, unbuttoning it without elegance nor patience, he grinned into the kiss. Freed pinched his skin in retort, and Gajeel laughed. He would have to make his nobleman 'thirsty' more often, it seemed.

~~~

Day Twenty-Nine – Quarrel (And The Aftermath)

Gajeel had been homeless before, he could do it again.

It wasn't an ideal situation, but he would get by. Just because he had got used to the luxury of living in Freed's cosy household didn't mean his street smarts had been removed. He had spent just shy of a year on the streets, and he'd made it through well enough, he just had to do it again. It wouldn't be anywhere near as comfortable as his life had been with Freed, but that was okay. He could tough it out until his situation got better.

He'd already found a good spot; under a canal bridge, close to an inn that Gajeel knew from experience would hand out scraps of uneaten food. And he had a trunk of clothing to keep him warm, which was better than what he'd had before. The trunk wasn't his, but Freed probably wouldn't miss it.

Freed. Gajeel felt a little sick when he thought of the man.

They had engaged in an argument in the morning. It was initiated by the most ridiculous of things; Freed had thrown a piece of fruit away that was bordering on rotten. Gajeel claimed it was a waste, Freed said that he wasn't going to eat spoiled food when it wasn't necessary. Somehow, this had devolved into a petty but nasty argument between them both about Freed's middle class upbringing and the contrast against Gajeel's own childhood. It had reached it's nastiest when Gajeel had claimed that Freed was a spoiled bastard without a grasp on reality.

The argument had been left there, as Freed had stormed out to go to work. Gajeel had festered in his anger for a while, before he realised what this argument had meant. He had been living in Freed's home for months, and the man was his landlord. It was unlikely that he would be allowed to remain after their fight.

So he had packed a trunk of his clothes and his items that he could sell, and left.

It was a bad day to do it, as well. The rain was heavy, and the dark clouds made Gajeel think that thunder and perhaps even lightning was coming. But he wrapped himself up in the large coat Freed had gotten him for his birthday, trying to ignore the irony that he was taking comfort in something of Freed's despite the fact he had left the mans home.

The more he thought about their argument, the queasier it made him feel. They had grown up in different ways, but that didn't mean Freed was a bad person. He was a criminal lawyer; he knew the struggles people went through better than most. Gajeel had just been angry – and perhaps embarrassed – that he hadn't been afforded the same luxuries that others had. But Freed wasn't to blame, and he had never been patronising about the difference in their lifestyles.

"Shit," Gajeel sighed, fingers tapping against the battered leather of the trunk he was sitting on. "Really fucked that up, didn't ya."

But it was too late now. Freed was a prideful man and – while Gajeel enjoyed that side of his personality – it was unlikely he would sit back after being insulted. Gajeel should have just kept his insecurities to himself. His stupid pride had lost him his home and his lover.

Leaning against the wall of the bridge, he allowed his eyes to close and was consumed by sleep.

He didn't know how long he had slept for, but when he felt a shaking on his shoulder and woke up again, it was now late enough for the stars to be out. He blinked groggily to see who had woken him, and saw that it was Freed, looking at him with a face of concern.

"How the hell d'you find me?" Gajeel asked, voice croaking.

"I spoke to Laxus, he told me of a few placed you could be, one being here," Freed explained. "Why aren't you at home, Gajeel?"

"Assumed you didn't want me there," Gajeel shrugged; it was obvious, he thought. "Guys don't normally like it when their shagging partner insults them. Thought it was best to leave before you came back."

Freed gave Gajeel a look of many emotions. It started off confused, flickered to annoyance for a moment, and then settled on resignation. He shifted slightly, moving so that he could join Gajeel on the trunk he was sitting on, looking out over the canal that was lit by stars. Gajeel frowned at the action, looking at his lover – ex-lover now, most likely – not understanding his actions.

"You're not just the man I sleep with, Gajeel," Freed said softly.

"Sure," Gajeel scoffed.

"I mean it," He spoke more firmly now. "I understand that a relationship like ours isn't the most conventional, but that doesn't mean it's any less valid. I don't want you to just be my lover – just someone who I know who I can take to bed – I want you to be my partner," He smiled at Gajeel, and looked beautiful. "I love you, Gajeel."

"You do?" Gajeel almost froze at the statement.

"Yes. I have never seen us just as people who can settle the others urges. I've seen you as my partner, the man who, if I could, I would marry," Freed admitted, and Gajeel felt a surge of emotions flow through him. Freed spoke again before he could understand them. "And I think you feel the same way. You've just denied it because it makes leaving easier."

At Freed's conclusion, Gajeel realised he was right. They weren't just having fun with each other, they shared emotions and feelings. They had courted and moved into a home together. Gajeel hadnt allowed himself to think of it that way, but of course that was what they had done.

"Shit," Gajeel mumbled. "I-I love you too."

"Quite so," Freed grinned, and Gajeel nudged him. "And, I'm sure you know, people in relationships often argue. It doesn't mean that one of them moves out and make themselves homeless."

"You don't want me gone?" Gajeel asked.

"Of course not," Freed assured him, smiling. "We will have arguments, of course we will. But, as people in love often do, we just need to get past them. Put aside our pride and come to a middle ground," Freed patted him on the thigh. "And I should apologise. I often disregard your childhood and how it has shaped you, and that's not fair. I shouldn't have been dismissive of what you said, and I shouldn't have gotten so defensive when you challenged me."

"No," Gajeel shook his head. "I shouldn't have made such a big deal about a fucking apple. And I called you a lot of nasty things that weren't appropriate."

"Well, some of them were. I was being rather a bastard," Freed chuckled, and Gajeel grinned slightly. "You have a sailor's mouth when you're angry, don't you?"

"Sorry," Gajeel chuckled.

"It's charming," Freed smiled, leaning against his lover with a soft smile. "We probably should have had a conversation like this before I stormed out, shouldn't we?"

"Probably," Gajeel agreed.

"Come home, Gajeel," Freed requested softly, and it made Gajeel feel warm inside.

Freed was his lover, his partner and his friend. This was something that Gajeel had never expected, and something that he held dear to him. They were good together, Gajeel had always known that, but hearing that his feelings were reciprocated was something that he hadn't thought would happen.

But now that it had, he felt damn idiotic for his actions. For leaving, as if it was an appropriate response. No, he and Freed were adults in a relationship, and they could work though their problems. That was a brilliant feeling.

"Okay."

~~~

Day Thirty – Accident (And Realisations)

It turned out it was true. Life really did flash before your eyes in a near death situation.

A mugging, that's what had caused it. Three men had cornered him in an alleyway, he removed his cane from his person and had started to beat him when he hadn't given them his wallet. He had put up a fight for a small amount of time, but the three of them were strong and outnumbered him. They were armed with impromptu weaponry and had thrashed the fight out of him, leaving him to die most likely.

As he had slowly lost consciousness as blood trickled from his wounds, his mind had supplied a stream of images from his life. Leaving for boarding school for the first time, riding a horse without help, his first dalliance with a farm-boy in a barnyard.

Then Gajeel had entered the stream of memories, and had dominated the experience. He remembered the first time they had met, their first kiss, their first night together, the first time Freed had confessed his love for the man. Smaller things to, like the cocky grin he had when he was issuing Freed some kind of wager, or the nights spent in their shared living room, reading or talking by the fire. Small moments of their relationship that Freed found himself adoring on reflection.

He passed out soon after.

Waking up in an unfamiliar room was disconcerting, and the pain flooding his body was vicious and unrepentant. He hissed at the sensation, and tried to distract himself somehow. The strong hands gripping his own were a good way to do that.

When he looked up, he saw a pleasant looking room. He adjusted his eyes at the open window and saw a street lit by the morning son; the street was familiar, but he was in a part of it that he didn't know. After a few moments he realised this was the same road he lived on, but a different house. Most likely, given the pain he was in, Porlyusica's house; a retired nurse that lived about three homes down from Freed.

But none of that was particularly important when compared to the fact that Gajeel was holding his hand.

He didn't seem to notice that Freed was awake, and it gave the injured man time to smile slightly. Gajeel had always been more cautious about being intimate in public than Freed – the lawyer had enough blackmail on London Police that they wouldn't go near him – so to have him openly touch him in a place not their home was a rather nice feeling. The feeling was soured when he realised why Gajeel was doing it; he was probably worried for him.

"Gajeel," Freed said, voice hoarse. It felt as though his throat were sandpaper.

"Freed," The mans head shot up, his voice tired and slightly croaky as well. "Fuck, how long have you been awake. Shit, here," He reached for a glass of water and handed it to Freed.

"Thank you," Freed smiled as he drank.

"You feeling okay. Course yer not," Gajeel cussed at himself. "Can I do anything for ya?"

"I don't think so," Freed shifted slightly as he sat up against the headboard. "Have you been here all night?"

"Couple nights. Would have been here longer but the old witch sent me away," Gajeel glared at a door, but Freed frowned.

"How long have I been unconscious?"

"Six days," Gajeel said quietly, and it was clear to see that the other man had been worrying for the entire time. Freed gently ran his thumb across the palm of Gajeel's hand in a comforting gesture, and his lover tightened his grip. "What happened?"

"I was leaving my office. Some men wanted money; I didn't give it to them. I'm sure you can guess the rest," Freed sighed, looking at the expression of worry on his lover's face. "I'm okay, Gajeel. I'm alive, and I'm sure that the pain is only temporary. You really needn't worry."

"Should have walked you home or something," Gajeel muttered, and Freed sighed.

"You weren't to know," He said comfortingly. "Has it been a long week for you, without my charming company to keep you busy?"

Gajeel laughed, albeit forcefully. Freed leant over and pressed his head against Gajeel's softly, as close to a kiss that they could do in anywhere slightly public. Gajeel nuzzled into the gesture, and Freed expected that the man would join him in the bed and wrap him in his arms if possible. Gajeel had always seemed to enjoy touch, be it holding hands, kissing, or even just pressing his side against Freed's as they sat next to each other. Perhaps it made things feel real for the man; Freed wasn't going to complain whatever the reason.

"Done a lot of thinkin'" Gajeel admitted. "I ain't ready to lose ya."

"I'm not going anywhere," Freed assured him softly, stroking his hand again.

"Better fuckin' not be," Gajeel said firmly, but was smiling, and it warmed Freed's heart just a little. "Because, well, one of the things I was thinking of was…"

Freed frowned a little when he looked at Gajeel. The man may not be the most blessed when it came to words, but that wasn't what was stopping him. He was nervous about something. That was defiantly unlike Gajeel, he was a headstrong man who often thought before he acted; sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. He didn't say anything though, letting Gajeel think before he spoke again.

"Couple months ago, you said you'd marry if you could," Gajeel eventually said. "And, I realised that I'd marry you too. So, well."

He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small box, which he flipped open. A simple plain ring rested inside of it, and Freed looked at it with shock as Gajeel shifted so that he was on one knee. Freed forgot the pain his body was in, looking at the piece of jewellery with wide eyes. Gajeel gave him a shockingly hopeful smile.

"I know we can't… I mean legally it won't be…" Gajeel glanced down in annoyance of himself. "I love ya, Freed. And I wanna spend the rest of my life with ya, and I was scared that I would be able to for a while. And I know we can't go it in a church, or get it done legit, but I wanna be yer husband. I wanna get married to ya. So, will you marry me?"

"Yes," Freed grinned. "Oh fuck yes."

[speedy-1236]

I'm going to be that asshole who takes the short meme and throws an essay at it. Apologies in advance. ;-)

It's not untrue what the original post says, but it's superficial, and I'm going to do in-depth now, because there's more to it. The meme makes it sound like hypocrisy, but I feel that's not what it is. It's cathartic fantasy. It's one of the core elements of fanfic culture. It's the Fix It™.

We, as fanfic people, both as writers and readers, I think are not an emotionally constipated crowd. Quite the opposite. Fanfic is such a character and emotion driven genre because we as the creators and audience look for emotional depth in our fiction. How much fanfic is basically "we're taking a potentially emotional moment from the source material that didn't get much screen time and write 10+k words of character angst about it, and oh, here's another 10k of fluff to chase it down with"?

We're an emotional crowd. We're doing fanfic because we are. We're not unaware of how we feel, nor unable to express it. Technically speaking, the average fanfic person is more than well-equipped to talk about their feelings.

But we live in a world that doesn't want us to. I'm going to freely extrapolate from my own perspective here, but it's never been about not knowing how to put my feelings into words for me. I've never struggled with that. There are pages and pages of diary-like rants and musings to prove it, along with the tip of the iceberg that actually ends up being in stories. It's not about the words. It's about the audience.

The society we live in doesn't want us to express our feelings. It wants us to walk through life pretending we hardly have them, and if we're encouraged to express something, it's something superficial and inconsequential most of the time. Nobody wants you to talk about your existential angst or your identity or about what keeps you up at night or what dreams, however unattainable, keep you going when you're at your worst. Nobody wants to see the deep sea. They allow the shallow tide, but show them an actual proper wave and they're running.

Most adults are scared of feelings. They're fucking terrified when you express them, or when you recognize theirs and dare put that into words. As an emotionally aware person, you learn to be quiet about it. You don't talk about your feelings, no matter how well you understand them, or how much talking might help in growing to understand them, because you learned that nobody will listen. You'll earn mockery for your troubles ("don't be so dramatic, you're making too much of a big deal of it" and so forth), or you'll embarrass people, or downright frighten them off, or make them angry because it's easy to be angry about something you don't understand, and a disturbing amount of adults don't understand feelings, their own and other people's.

I think in all of our lives there are very few people we feel safe letting in, letting close enough to really know us. A few close friends and loved ones we can trust to actually listen to us when we put our feelings into words and to not judge us for it. In real life, someone to talk to about your feelings is a rare treasure, and even with friends and family you often have to jump the not insubstantial hurdle of "nobody ever told us how to talk about feelings properly" first.

But this is fiction, and as such it's a world we can control. A world that follows whatever law we want it to. The "characters don't talk about their feelings" trope isn't so popular because it mirrors reality. It doesn't. It's a fix it.

They say every story needs a conflict to resolve, and in this case it's "these stupid characters don't talk to each other properly". But the key word here is "resolve". That's what the overwhelming majority of these fics do. Sure, the characters grapple with not talking, the story might grind us through chapter after frustrating chapter of those idiot characters not talking to each other and it drives us slowly mad, but in the end, the whole point is that they overcome that hurdle of not putting their feelings into words. No matter if the fic is shippy or friendshippy or working through trauma or whatever else you have, the resolution is usually some variant of "they solve the problem". They talk to each other, and even if it's not all the thousands of words we learned about their unspoken feelings in the parts of the fic leading up to it, in the end they talk, and it's good, and everyone feels better.

The "they don't talk about their feelings" fics aren't about the frustration of watching characters have the same problems as you have in real life. They're for the catharsis of seeing their struggles and relating to them, and the relief of seeing them finally triumph over them. The "they need to talk about their feelings" fics are a discreetly raised middle finger to an emotionally cold society, and I love them for that. Let's never stop writing them, friends.

Me, at fictional characters: THIS WOULDN’T BE A PROBLEM IF YOU JUST TALKED ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS

Me, in real life: if i give even the vaguest notion of my feelings to anybody i would die